Nights of Villjamur (37 page)

'Yes. She fell asleep on me. Twice.'

'Not during, I hope?'

'As if.'

'Well, spare me the tales, lad. Been a long time since I dipped me wick, like. My drought's moved into its second year.' Then, to the landlord, 'Two lagers.'

Randur glanced around, noticed a stranger standing at one end of the bar, a hood pulled over his face.

'So,' Denlin said between sips, 'what you got this time?'

Randur handed over two gold rings, each set with a precious stone. 'Either of these any good?'

Denlin put the items under the light, tilted them this way and that. His face screwed up into wrinkles, highlighting his age. 'Not bad at all, lad. Who's this lot from?'

'A Lady Iora,' Randur replied. 'Recently widowed, and damn wealthy as a result.'

The hooded stranger gasped, then looked down at a tankard.

Denlin glanced quickly over to the figure, then at Randur. 'You gonna tell me who your mate is?'

'I'm sorry?' Randur said.

'Your pal who came in here with you.' Denlin indicated the hooded newcomer.

'I came alone,' Randur said. Then, to the stranger, 'Mate, does our business interest you?'

The figure made to leave, then Denlin grabbed one arm. The stranger gave a high-pitched squeal.

'Den, stop that.' With a shocked realization, Randur walked over, pulled aside the hood. 'Lady Eir, for fuck's sake, what are you doing here? How the hell did you get out of Bal-macara?'

Her eyes widened with uncertainty, then all she could do was stare at the floor. Her hair was dishevelled. No make-up, no jewellery, nothing that might indicate her position, but down here they only knew her as a title, not a face.

Randur drew her hood back up, then took her outside, Denlin following.

'Eir,' he hissed, 'what're you doing here?'

She spun around in the dark street, and suddenly she was as passive-aggressive as usual.

'Actually, Randur Estevu, I think it's you who should be answering that question. I've just witnessed you admit to stealing, and from a lady of the court, what's more. You've stolen within Balmacara, so I should have you executed. You're nothing but a common thief. I should've known better.'

'She's got a point there, lad,' Denlin concurred from the doorway of the tavern.

Randur looked back at the old man. Fortunately there was no one else within earshot in the dirty backstreet. 'Thank you for that, Denlin.'

Randur looked to Eir, sighed. He took some time to think of a suitable answer, then shrugged. 'You're right, I've stolen. Maybe I can explain. Though I reckon I should be getting you back to Balmacara before the sun rises. It's not safe here.'

'I think a common thief is the last person who should be responsible for my safety, don't you think?' She folded her arms, glared at him.

Randur took a deep breath.
Be careful what you say, Rand. You've blagged your way into the city, and now your mouth might get you kicked right back out again.

Denlin stepped forward, stood in between them. 'This, uhm, who I think it is? Jamur Eir?'

Eir stared at Randur, unspoken questions in her gaze, waiting for reassurance.

'Go on,' Randur prompted.

'Yes, yes, it is,' Eir said. 'And who are you?'

'Friend of the lad, here, that's all.'

'A thief too?' Eir said.

'Ha! No. Though some might call me that, especially in there.' Denlin gestured vaguely towards the tavern, then scratched his head, ruffling his already messy grey hair. 'No, I'm an odd-job man, like. I do a bit of this, a bit of that. You need something, I'll find it - for a price of course. At your service, my lady.' He took a bow.

Randur couldn't decide if he was being sarcastic or not. 'Den, you think you could leave us alone for a bit?'

'Anything you have to say,' Eir snapped, 'you can say here, in the open.'

Randur looked between them, sighed. 'I don't know about you two, but I want a drink.' He went back into the Garuda's Head.

Denlin scratched his crotch, followed, muttering, 'At last, some sense.'

'What, you're going to just leave me out here alone?' Eir protested.

Randur turned in the doorway. 'You want answers, step into my office.'

*

'I'm a thief, yes,' Randur admitted, then took a swig of his lager, staring at Eir across the table. She clasped a cup of watered wine from which she took occasional sips, making a face as if she'd sucked at a lump of salt. 'But, I'm stealing with good reason.'

'Doesn't every thief?' Eir said.

'She's got a point, lad,' Denlin said, then belched.

'Thank you, Denlin.' Randur glared at him. Back to Eir, he continued, 'I'm stealing because I need the money to . . .' He paused for a moment. He might as well tell everything. 'To save my mother from dying.'

Eir's expression softened.

'From tunthux.'

Denlin whistled. 'Nasty.'

'What's tunthux?' Eir enquired.

'The slow death, they call it,' Denlin volunteered. 'Can take a few years for someone to die from it. At the end they say you bleed from every orifice, blood pouring from your arse-hole--'

'Thank you, Denlin!' Randur interrupted. 'We don't need to hear all that.' Then, to Eir, 'My mother is dying and I came to Villjamur to find a cure, from a cultist. I need to raise money, you see, since a cultist won't do it for nothing. And that's why I'm taking things - jewellery, gemstones - from certain women I give . . .
satisfaction
to. As you yourself explained, Eir, I can't exactly take stuff from Balmacara, so . . .'

'So you seduce vulnerable ladies of the court for their wealth,' Eir sneered. 'How honourable of you.'

'I give them plenty in return. I give them excitement and attention, albeit for a short while. They certainly aren't getting it from anyone else, so is that so bad? That I satisfy them? And besides, who would say a thing if it was a young woman accepting the odd trinket from her older male lover.'

'That's different,' Eir protested, rather uncertainly.

'Is it really?' Randur said. He gripped his tankard, took a sip of lager. 'Is it really so different for a man to expect payment?'

'Whoring,' Denlin offered. 'That's what that is. At least common whores is more honest about taking money, like. And I've known some lovely ones in my time . . .'

'Thank you, Denlin.' Randur wondered if the old man would ever shut up. 'All I'm doing is giving some emotional and physical attention to certain neglected ladies who need it, and taking an unofficial fee in the unspoken market. The jewellery I take is in order to save my mother's life. If you're going to get all moral over this, I still reckon I've got the higher ground - so there you have it. I'm working to get my mother's life back, but I'm still a little short in coin.'

'How much do you need?' Eir said suddenly.

Randur tried to read her expression and said, 'Four hundred Jamuns.'

As he took a sip she said, 'I can get that for you.'

Randur nearly spat the drink on the table. 'Really? You can?' He wanted to be a gentleman, to refuse her kindness, but despite his inherent politeness, despite his pride, he couldn't refuse something like that - because his mother's life depended upon it.

For a normally proud man, he wasn't feeling much pride right now.

'Yes,' Eir said, 'that is, if what you say really
is
true.'

'You think I'd lie about a thing like that? If that's what you think, you can keep your fucking money.' Randur stood to leave, shuffled along the table. A few customers turned to watch. 'Fuck you looking at?'

Eir rose with him. 'Randur, don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.'

He looked at her for a moment, then sat back down. He wasn't sure he'd really have walked out, but it was one of those gestures, a little drama in a situation that required it. And it was time for him to show a lack of trust - why was she willing to give him so much money, to help him so blatantly? It made him highly suspicious. For someone so solipsistic, he rarely
believed
in himself.

'I'm sorry. I don't understand though. Why do you blame yourself for her illness?'

'Because I was more busy having fun than being there for her - being there for my own mother. I was too young and selfish to notice.'

'You mustn't blame yourself . . .' Eir began.

'Well, I do. I have to save her. That's why I'm here, in this miserable city.'

Her brow furrowed. 'So, does that mean you're actually not my genuine sword and dance instructor?'

'No, I'm not the
genuine
Randur Estevu.' He then explained how he'd been able to enter the city.

'And your real name?' Eir said.

'Can't be much worse than the one you're using,' Denlin suggested.

'I'd rather remain known as Randur Estevu, for the time being anyway.'

'Fine. And you will at least continue teaching me dance until the Snow Ball is over?'

'If I'm not hanged for theft, meanwhile, sure,' he said. 'Although I'll need to leave soon afterwards - once I get whatever the cultist gives me - and then get back to my mother.'

Randur wasn't sure what to feel at this moment. Jamur Eir was sitting here, in a dingy tavern in the roughest area of the city. It was not only bizarre enough that she had followed him all this way, but also was now going to give him all the money he needed to pay Dartun Sur. He had assumed it would take much longer to get the funds, so what did he feel now - gratitude, relief?

'Why're you being so kind to me?' Randur demanded.

'I think what you're doing here is quite brave - especially since you're doing it all for your mother. I in particular can appreciate the importance of a mother in someone's life . . . And if it means you don't have to service every rich widow in the city, then I'd feel - then that's good.'

Randur tried not to show his sudden confusion at her words. He would never understand the female mind. 'I truly appreciate it, I really do.'

'One condition,' she said.

'What's that, then?'

'That I can come with you back to Folke. I want to see some of the Empire. I've been sheltered too long. My sword instructor would certainly seem an acceptable guardian in the eyes of those in Balmacara.'

A smile on his face. 'You have a deal. Now hadn't we better get back?'

Eir nodded a yes.

Denlin seemed to have fallen asleep. The old man's head had tipped back, his mouth slightly open.

'Den!' Randur banged the table.

'Whassa . . . Oh, must've drifted off.' He slapped his own face to rouse himself. 'What's happened then? You two all patched up and in love?'

'We're friends again,' Randur said, standing up. 'We're off now. Looks like the sun's nearly up.'

'Aye. So, I guess you won't be coming down these parts again, if the lady's paying your debt.'

Was he really sleeping all that time?
'No, I guess not as much as before.' Randur felt a little awkward. Despite Denlin being crude and obnoxious, they had a bond, had spent a good few nights drinking and laughing together. 'Thanks for everything. We've had some good times down here.'

'Aye, well, don't be a stranger, will you.' Denlin offered his hand. 'Always welcome at my place, too. Enjoyed those card games we had there, without the riff-raff.'

The two men shook, but Randur noticed how the old man had discreetly returned the rings that belonged to Lady Iora into his hand.

Randur shook his head. 'Cheers, Denlin. I'll be back down here sometime soon - only, just for drinks this time.'

'Well, you'll find me here, doing a bit of this, a bit of that.' Denlin glanced to Eir. 'Look after the lad.'

'He'll need more help than I can offer.' Eir stood up quickly, walked out of the tavern.

As Randur reached the door, he looked back and tossed one of the rings back to him. 'Buy yourself something smarter to wear.'

'And waste good lager? You've a lot to learn, Randur.' Denlin peered down into the bottom of his tankard.

A smile was all Randur could offer. Anything else would've been too awkward.

Randur and Eir stepped out into a bright Caveside morning.

People newly woken were venturing out into the streets, where boys were drawing carts of dubious-looking vegetables to the market. The sign outside the blacksmiths said 'No Jobs'. Two officers of the watch were talking to a man sleeping in a doorway, demanding if he had nowhere else to live, and would he mind moving on.

It really is another world down here
, Randur thought, turning to Eir. 'Are people going to worry if you're not back in Balmacara soon?'

'Why do you ask?' She regarded him with those big eyes. He thought for a moment that they might trap a man who wasn't in control of himself. There was a vulnerability in her expression, he realized, something that made him want more from her. You have to be savvy to avoid situations like that. Trouble was, he didn't think he was much able to deal with it.