"Oh really?" He kissed her lightly.
"Really." She kissed him again.
"Like what?" His arm went around her waist and he drew her closer.
"It's not far to my room," she said. "Maybe you should come and I'll show you."
"That sounds like an offer I can't resist." In spite of that, he kissed her again, long and soft, but becoming firmer and more urgent by the moment.
Her hands tangled in his hair, locks curling around her fingers. His body pressed against hers and she felt his response against her leg.
"We should go."
He murmured his agreement, stepped back and took her hand. "Good idea. I don't want to rush anything with you."
"Neither do I," she replied. With others, it had just been a bit of fun, but with him, she wanted to get to know every part of him, to enjoy every moment and make it last until time ran out.
22
Travin stretched and yawned. His first thought was that his bed felt more comfortable than usual. His second was that it smelled different. He inhaled deeply, recognising the scent as that of Laynin's hair. He could happily lie there and breathe it in all day.
"Morning."
Her voice brought a smile to his lips. He opened his eyes to see her lying beside him, leaning on her elbow. The sight of her, still naked, made him smile. His body responded, even after the hours they'd spent exploring each other the night before.
"Good morning." He rolled onto his side to kiss her, while his hands wandered down her body. "This is a nice way to start the day."
She murmured her agreement as she kissed him back and wound her legs around him. "I should get us breakfast."
"I have all I need here," he said, sinking into her.
"Mmm, me too." She rolled him over and straddled him.
Panting, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He'd had his share of lovers, but none as energetic and giving as she was. He couldn't remember having felt so comfortable and satisfied in his life.
He was vaguely aware of her rising and moving around the room. He picked his head up off the pillow and saw her pulling on clothes. Not, he hoped, the ones from yesterday afternoon.
She looked over at him. "Sorry, I have to go. Risper needs to bathe."
"Can I help?" He'd never bathed a dragon before, although he'd watched them swimming in the ocean often enough.
"I should do it by myself," she said, looking regretful. "Ara will want him washed out of a basin of water. It's going to take ages."
"I'm sorry." He sat up and stretched. "I should go too anyway. I have an idea for a song about some stars which are really lovers."
Laynin smiled. "That sounds nice. Better than an angry song."
He laughed. "I'll play it for you when I'm done."
"Deal." She pulled a shirt over her head and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for last night, it was lovely."
He turned his face and kissed her lips. "It was. We should do it again some time. If you like." He realised then he'd assumed there would be another time. Perhaps that wasn't her intention at all. The draakin was free to do as she pleased, apart from her punishments from Ara. She was certainly not tied to a mere bard.
However, she smiled. "I'd like that." She straightened up and started toward the door. Once she closed it behind her, he lay back and exhaled. He could easily go back to sleep, but he was mindful that this wasn't his room or his bed.
With a sigh, he rose and gathered his clothes from where they lay scattered on the floor. As he pulled them on, he looked around the space. He'd always thought draakin must live in luxury, but apart from the larger bed, it wasn't much different to his lodgings. Instead of four steps, he might have to take five or six to cross this, but the table looked to be the same age as his, as did the chair. The chest in the corner might have seen as many draakin as Risper.
Having a dragon had made the draakin seem like something more than human, but the reality was they were just like everyone else. What would Ara think if he wrote a song dispelling the assumption about them? Perhaps it would be better if he didn't find out. That might end any chance he had of being allowed to try for another dragon.
He slipped out into the corridor and smiled at two draakin who passed as he closed the door. They didn't look concerned at seeing him there, but one gave him a knowing smile. He responded with a shrug and a grin and headed toward the exit.
The air outside was fresh and cool, and helped to wake him further. He remembered then that he'd left his guitar at the tavern. No doubt it was safe, but he'd need it if he was going to write anything.
He changed direction and headed toward the Dragon's Shell, a smile on his face, but a rumble in his belly. He might have to grab some food while he was there.
To his surprise, several people were already in the tavern when he arrived. He recognised the priest of Euru from the temple. He was addressing a handful of others, including two more in the red robes of the cult.
"Euru seeks only your eternal existence!" he declared.
The crowd muttered their agreement.
"Euru wants us to spread the word of Euru's love and desire to give to all people. All anyone need do is accept the reality of Euru. Take Euru into your heart, and your life will continue beyond death!"
""Say it friend!" A man shouted.
"Embrace Euru!" The priest's voice rose. "Love Euru!"
"Embrace Euru, love Euru!" The crowd echoed.
The priest took a breath and stepped aside while those gathered talked amongst themselves. He smiled at Travin and nodded, approaching him with an outstretched hand.
"The bard, as I recall?"
"That's right." Travin shook his hand and returned the nod.
"Did you do as I suggested and write a song to praise of Euru?"
"I did, but—" Travin glanced around uneasily at those gathered. They looked at him eagerly. "I'm not sure it's ready yet."
"Euru placed you here today, so you can sing this marvellous song for us," the priest said. "Euru could not be wrong in this, do you not agree?"
Travin wasn't sure. He thought he might be here now because of his night with Laynin. The idea that a god planned that was unsettling.
"Of course," he said awkwardly, "I'll just get my guitar."
"Excellent," the priest smiled broadly. "We'll await your return with great anticipation, as will Euru." He gestured upward.
Travin glanced up, but only saw the stained ceiling. "I won't be long." He ducked behind the bar and into the back.
"They're not getting rowdy out there, are they?" Targya asked, glancing over her shoulder as she kneaded bread.
"No, just enthusiastic." Travin picked his guitar up and snagged a fresh roll from where they sat steaming on a rack. It was hot enough to burn, but he bit into it, regardless.
"See that they don't." She waved a flour-covered finger at him. "Borvin will be along shortly and you know how he feels about people making trouble."
The owner of the Dragon's Shell, Borvin was a hard-working man who took no nonsense from anyone, and gave none in return.
"I know," Travin said between mouthfuls. "They just want me to sing. What could happen?"
She fixed him with a stern look, which he responded to with a disarming smile. In turn she rolled her eyes at him, but smiled.
He finished the roll and stepped back out to the taproom. Everyone was seated and his stool was already in place. Judging by the look on the priest's face, it was his doing.
Travin sat, and tucked his feet up under him. He strummed a few notes, as he always did to get the attention of listeners, then began to sing.
A handful of men entered the tavern after the first verse and stood scowling at him. As he launched into the second, one of them stalked forward.
"Oy, your Euru nonsense ain't welcome here," he declared, arms crossed over a hefty chest.
Travin faltered and stopped mid-word.
"Friend," the priest rose, "Euru is welcome everywhere. Open your heart and l
et Euru clear the haze from your eyes."
"I'll give you freakin' haze!" The man swung at the priest, who managed to duck to avoid the blow.
Travin jumped up, put his guitar back in a corner, and moved the stool in front of it for protection. He held his hands to either side and spoke in what he hoped was a soothing tone.
"Come on, now, let's not let this get ugly."
"You!" The man poked a finger in his direction. "Spinnin' lies our children might hear. People trust bards, but you're as bad as them." He waved in the direction of the priest and the other two cult members. His companion grunted their agreement and all three started toward Travin.
"I don't want any trouble." He retreated, but one of the congregation tripped the man in the lead. He staggered a few steps, then turned and punched the man squarely in the face.
"Why you—" Another man leapt to his feet and launched himself at the man.
A woman let out a squeal, picked up a chair and swung it, the legs connecting with men on both sides. The original agitator let out a howl, grabbed the chair and smashed it across a table.
The woman ran for the door, as did several others.
Travin found himself face to face with an angry man with small, protruding eyes and thick lips.
"There's no need for—"
The man's fist connected with the side of his face and he was sent reeling back toward the bar. A sensible man might have pretended to be out, but Travin forced himself to stay on his feet and lunged at the man. He drove his shoulder into the man's chest and pushed him back toward the tables. He slammed into them with a crash and a scrape of wooden legs on floorboards.
The man let out a growl, put his hands on Travin's chest and shoved. Travin grabbed his arms and dragged him back with him. They fell to the floor and the man kneed him in the leg. Travin rolled over and landed a punch on the man's chin.
"What's going on here!" a voice bellowed over the uproar.
Travin caught a glimpse of Borvin, face red, clutching a rolling pin in his hand. It must have been the first thing he found on his way through the kitchen.
The man Travin had fought pulled away and stood, as did his companions.
"Them's been speaking about Euru." The first agitator pointed at him, the priest and the other two in red robes, one of who had blood dripping from his nose. "They sympathise with the invaders from down south. We don't want none of their trouble here in Tsaisa."
Borvin gave a curt nod. "Agreed, we don't. Out." He waved toward the door. "Take your fake god nonsense and get out of my tavern. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave Tsaisa too."
"My apologies friend. I was simply trying to enlighten—"
"Out!" Borvin roared.
The priest gave him a bow and hurried out, followed by his congregation.
"You too."
It took Travin a moment to realise he was addressing him. "Me?" he asked, incredulous, "I was only singing."
"About Euru," the man he'd been fighting only moment ago interjected.
"You folk started the fight," Travin argued.
"I said out," Borvin growled. "Take your guitar and go. You're not welcome here any longer."
Travin gaped. The words sank in slowly. He decided against arguing further. "All right. I'm sorry. I meant no offence either." He dragged the stool aside and picked up his precious guitar. Thank Euru it hadn't been damaged. He clutched it to him, and sidestepped Borvin and his rolling pin. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it would damage his instrument.
As he passed the men, he heard one said something about the haze being over his eyes. He didn't bother to try to see which one had spoken. The other man was the fool. The hazing fool. Travin smirked. The word seemed appropriate.
Some day his eyes would clear and he'd see that Euru was the one, true god.
He headed for his lodgings, his mood dark now. If he wasn't welcome here in Tsaisa, maybe he should think about going somewhere he was.
Maybe somewhere down south, with other believers, and other magin.
23
"What happened to you?" Laynin asked. She rose from the log she'd been sitting on and moved closer to him. She inspected his face, her brow creased with concern.
After leaving his guitar in his room, he'd stalked off to the beach. In spite of the day becoming increasingly warm, he'd run the length of Tsaisa beach, from the sand dunes nearest the town, to the cliffs of the headland to the north. With legs aching, he'd rinsed in the ocean, caught a wave or two and then trudged out to lie under a tree and look up at the leaves shifting in the breeze.
After an hour or two, he realised his anger wasn't going to dissipate. Those men had started the fight, and he'd taken the worst of the blame for it. He'd lost his job because they'd had a problem and wanted to use their fists to handle it. All he'd done was to sing a few bars of a song he'd been asked to perform. Wasn't that the point of being a bard? He was hurting no one. He wasn't insisting anyone adopt his beliefs. The priest had tried to be persuasive, true, but only because he was passionate.
Borvin's response, Travin decided, was unwarranted. The tavern owner was angry over the fight, which was fair, but he should have tossed out the perpetrators, not him. Or at least, thrown everyone out until they had cooled down.
Travin rose and kicked a foot full of sand into the air. And another. After a few more he stopped and laughed at himself. Taking out his anger on sand was silly, but it made him feel a little better. At least he didn't need to punch people to feel good.
He started back toward his lodgings, only too aware that without braids, he'd be sleeping under bushes and picking fruit from trees to eat. He'd lived like that before, and could do so again, but he'd been comfortable in Tsaisa.
He scratched his head and wondered if he dared to approach Ara for help. The sinking sensation in his belly told him he'd be lucky if she didn't have him escorted from town and sent on his way. She certainly had no obligation to help a hopeless hopeful.
He was almost to his lodgings before he saw Laynin. He smiled and kissed her mouth, then winced at the pain it caused his face.
"Would you believe I walked into a dragon?" he asked, giving her a guileless smile.
She laughed. "No. It's hard to miss seeing a dragon." On the last word, her expression turned serious. "That answer makes me think you don't want me to know. Please tell me you had nothing to do with the brawl at the Dragon's Shell."
He groaned. "You heard about that?"
She put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a steady look. "Do I need to tell you what Ara thinks about hopefuls getting into fights?"
He almost rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of hearing about Ara-hazing-Lucretia. Apparently using the latrine was against the rules without her permission.
"What do you think about them?" he asked. That was much more to the point.
Her eyes narrowed. "I think they're ridiculous, unless you have a very good reason," she replied carefully.
"The other man swung first," he said. "He did this." He pointed to the bruising on his face. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "I might have retaliated."
What she lacked in a verbal response, she made up for with her eye-roll. "Of course you did. What was it about anyway?"
He sat down on a patch of grass and drew her down with him. After a moment of resistance, she leaned against him and let him stroke her hair. He told her the whole story, not leaving out anything, although he may have embellished the size of his attacker just a little.
"That doesn't seem fair," Laynin said, after he'd finished speaking. "It's almost time for dinner. Come on, let's go and see if Borvin has cooled down a little."
He hesitated, but rose and took her hand. It might not hurt that he was in the company of a draakin but he didn't expect her to speak on his behalf, or try to coerce Borvin. Her presence might be enough to make the man see reason.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked.
"Anything," he replied, hoping she wasn't about to ask some
thing he couldn't answer.
"You're a magin, right? And you believe in Euru."
"Yes, I suppose so," he agreed.
"So, if Tarlu Rosharias and his army marched on Marth, and tried to have his magin convince people to convert to Euru, what would you do?"
"What do you mean?" He turned his face to regard her while they walked.
"I mean, if you had to fight, which side would you be on?"
"The right side?" he ventured.
She snorted. "That's no answer. Which side is the right one?"
He drew in a breath, then exhaled loudly. "To be honest, I'm not sure. If people think like Borvin and those thugs, then I might not be welcome to fight on the side of Marth and Erista."
She looked horrified. "I'm sure those are exceptions. I've heard the king of Marth is a reasonable man. Anyone with sense isn't going to turn down a soldier who is young and strong."
"You might be right," he agreed, "unless they see anyone who believes in Euru as the enemy. I might be executed on the spot."
He felt her hand tighten around his. "I'm sure it won't come to that," she said quickly.
"I'd certainly prefer it didn't," he said, grinning. "I plan to do my best to avoid it."
"Would you stop worshipping Euru?" she asked.
He hesitated. "It's not as simple as that." He searched for the words. "That would mean giving up my next life just to save this one. In the short term, it makes sense, but in the very long term, I don't think I can."
"So, you'd die for it?" She looked at him sideways. She didn't understand, that was clear, but she was trying.
"You think that sounds ridiculous?" he asked.
She hesitated. "I don't believe there's life after this, so I would do whatever it took to stay in it."
He nodded slowly. "Do you believe that Risper has life after you? That he'll bond again?"
"Of course."
"And you'd do whatever it took to keep him alive, even give your own life?" he ventured.
"Yes, but I know he can bond again. It's what dragons do."
Relics and Runes Anthology Page 121
