‘I hope you learned a goodly amount today,’ said Jaim Grymauch.
Kaelin settled down opposite the big man. ‘I learned that Connavar was a Varlish prince and not a clansman at all,’ he said.
‘Aye, I’ve heard that. Did they also tell you that he shat pearls and pissed fine wine?’ Putting aside the broadsword Jaim reached out and took Kaelin’s hand, turning the palm towards the firelight. ‘I see that you’ve been insolent again. What was it this time?’
‘I told old White-Wig that Connavar was Rigante and that the man who wrote about him being Varlish was a stinking liar.’
‘I’m a great believer in diplomacy, Kaelin, and it pleases me to see you mastering it at such a tender age.’
‘Oh, and I saw Mr Galliott. He says you’ve to pay one chailling and nine daens for damages and you’ve been fined another two chaillings and six daens. He says it must be paid by the end of the month or you’ll be taken before the Moidart.’
‘So how much do I owe in all?’
‘A lot,’ answered Kaelin.
‘I’m not good with numbers, boy. Calculate it for me.’
Kaelin closed his eyes. Best to calculate the daens first, he thought. Nine plus six made … he counted it on his fingers. Fifteen. Suddenly he thought of Banny again, wondering if his cough had improved. Jerking himself back to the problem he calculated that fifteen daens made one chailling and three daens. To which he had to add the fine – two chaillings. Making three chaillings and three daens. He told Jaim the figure.
‘You’ve lost a chailling,’ said Jaim.
‘I have not!’
‘Forget the daens for a moment. How many chaillings was the fine?’
‘Two.’
‘And how many for the damages?’
‘One.’
‘Well that makes three already. Now you have fifteen daens. That makes one chailling and three daens. So, I owe them four chaillings and three daens.’
Kaelin scowled. ‘You told me you were bad at figures.’
‘I am bad at figures. I’m just not as bad as you.’ The warrior sighed. ‘I’m getting old, Kaelin. Was a time when the damages and fine always came to more than five chaillings. But now I’m weary before I’ve bent the second chair over some poor fool’s head.’
‘You’re not old,’ said Kaelin, moving to sit beside the grizzled warrior and enjoying the warmth of the fire. ‘You’ll never be old.’
‘That’s probably true.’ He glanced at Kaelin. ‘You staying long, boy?’
‘Only an hour or so. Aunt Maev has chores for me. Why don’t you come back and have supper with us?’
Jaim shook his head. ‘I’m feeling solitary.’
‘You want me to go?’
Jaim grinned, then winced as the scab on his lip parted. He dabbed at it with a finger. ‘No, I don’t want you to go. Sitting like this reminds me of times I sat with your father. You look just like him, save for the eyes. His were strange, one green, one gold. You have your mother’s eyes. She was a good woman, Gian. Deserved better.’
Kaelin looked away and added some sticks to the fire. His mother had been killed two nights after he was born. Beetlebacks had raided the settlement. Few had escaped. Aunt Maev had been one of them, carrying the infant Kaelin in her arms. He changed the subject.
‘What was the fight in the tavern about?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘You stabbed a man in the face, Grymauch. You ought to remember.’
‘Aye, that’s true, I guess.’ The big man stretched himself out beside the fire. ‘It was probably over a woman. Most fights are.’
‘Have you ever lost a fight?’
Jaim was silent for a moment. ‘I think that – in a way – I have lost every fight I’ve ever had.’ He sat up. ‘I’m like the Rigante, Kaelin. I have fought men in the highlands, in the south, and across the great ocean. No man has ever bested me in battle, and yet I sit in a hidden cave nursing my bruises. I own no cattle. I have no land.’
‘You should wed Aunt Maev.’
Jaim’s laughter pealed out. ‘She’s too good a woman for the likes of me, lad. As she’d tell you herself.’