‘How dare you?’ hissed Tovi. ‘I stood on Golden Moor, my sword dripping Outland blood. I watched my brothers cut down, my land swallowed by the enemy. Where were you when I fought my battles? I’ll tell you – you were sucking on your mother’s tit! I have lost much, boy, but don’t presume to insult me.’
‘My apologies, Hunt Lord,’ said Loran softly, holding to Tovi’s angry gaze. There was no hint of weakness in the mild manner in which Loran spoke, and Tovi’s eyes narrowed.
‘You did that on purpose, Pallides. You think to fire my blood through anger.” Tovi released the younger man, then nodded. ‘And you were right.’ Clumsily he tried to brush the creases from Loran’s tunic. ‘Damn it all, you are right. Live under the yoke long enough and you start to feel like an ox.’ He laughed suddenly, the sound harsh. ‘I do not know how gifted are your Gifted Ones, Loran, but we will lose nothing by at least sending supplies back into the high country. And tonight I will call a meeting of the Elders to discuss the rest of your proposal. You are welcome to stay here the night and meet them.’
‘No,’ the younger man told him. ‘I want to see the drunkard you spoke of.’
‘It is a long walk and it will soon be dusk.’
‘Then I’d best finish this meal and be on my way.’ Loran tore a chunk from the bread and bit off the crust as Tovi returned to his seat.
‘You mentioned a whore? We have only one whore in Cilfallen, and she rarely leaves her house.’
‘A young silver-haired woman. She offered herself to me without even asking a price.’
Tovi suddenly chuckled. ‘You should consider yourself most fortunate that you did not call her a whore to her face.’
‘How do you know I did not?’
‘The last man who called her such a name had his jaw broken in three places. It took two men to pull Sigarni away from him; she was about to cut his tongue out.’ The smile faded. ‘She is the last of the true blood line of Gandarin. Any son of hers would be the undisputed heir to the crown. And it will never happen.”
‘She is barren?’
‘Aye. She was due to wed Fell, the Forest Captain. Old Gwalch, our Gifted One, proclaimed her infertile. She is no whore, Loran. True she has enjoyed many lovers, but she picks only men she likes, and there is no price to pay. She is a woman of fire and iron, that one, and well liked here.’
‘You are saying I should feel flattered?”
‘Did you not?’ countered the baker, a twinkle in his eye.
‘She is very beautiful. I watched her make a dive into Ironhand’s pool and it took the breath away. I have always spurned those I thought to be whores. Now I am beginning to regret my decision.’
‘You may never get another chance, boy.’
‘We will see.”
The sandy-haired young man sat with his head in his hands, his eyes bleary with drink. Before him was a half-empty tankard. Ballistar climbed to the bench seat and then perched his small body at the edge of the table. ‘Getting drunk won’t solve anything, Bernt,’ he said.
‘She doesn’t want to see me,’ said Bernt. ‘She says she will neversee me again.’ He looked across at the dwarf. ‘I didn’t mean to do it, Balli. I got excited. I wouldn’t have hurt Lady, not for all the world. I just wasn’t thinking. I was watching Sigarni. She looked so beautiful in the morning sunlight. So beautiful.’ The young man drained the tankard and belched. Ballistar looked at him – the square face, the deep-set blue eyes, the powerful neck and broad shoulders – and knew envy. All that height wasted on a dullard like Bernt. Ballistar felt guilty at the thought, for he liked the young man. True, Bernt was not bright, yet he had a warmth and a compassion lacking in other, more intelligent men. In truth he was a sensitive soul.
‘I think,’ said the dwarf, ‘that you should just lie low for a while. Lady is almost healed and she is hunting well. Wait for a little while, then go out and see Sigarni again. I expect she’ll relent. You were always good for her.’