The Axe and the Throne (29 page)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Titon spent much of the long trek home thinking of the woman, of the crude ring he'd taken from her corpse. He wanted to be rid of it, fearing it carried with it some taint of malfeasance, but he had nothing else to give Red. He focused instead on his plans that he felt would make up for his lack of real jewelry, and as he discussed them aloud, he felt his spirits lifting.

Titon knew that when his father learned of their achievement he would no doubt be proud of them—
both
of them for once. Throughout their trip, Decker had tried to make Titon look good among the men by constantly reminding them all of whose idea it was to descend the cliffs. It was so sloppily done, however, that it had only served to make Titon look like a weakling that needed his little brother to prop him up. Despite that, Titon was eager for Decker to reiterate those same boasts when it came time to recount their tales of victory to their father. The man would have no choice but to acknowledge him for his cunning, and though Titon would not fully admit it to himself, he looked forward to finally winning his father's respect. He also intended to capitalize on that respect.

“With my brother and father's help, it will not take long to finish the house,” Titon explained to his new friend.

Titon had already drawn up the plans for the structure in his head. The house itself would be rather unique, not requiring any load-bearing internal walls, nor a central chimney which complicated construction of the roof. Titon expected that his father, having built his own home, would doubt it at first, then be forced to recognize its ingenuity as it came together.

“If you need another set of hands,” Arron offered.

“I could use your help,” said Titon. “But that will be after the main structure is complete. The house may not be difficult to build, but the stove will be. I intend to route the hot smoke through metal piping around the home.”

Arron looked at him questioningly.

“I will get more heat from each log burned,” Titon explained. “You will see.”

The two walked at the rear of the group, as Arron was compelled to stay downwind of the others.

“Just as long as you can still cook atop the damn thing,” said Arron. “What was that horrid stew you had planned?”

“Rabbit, carrots, onion stalks, potatoes, chopped parsley, and…tinder berries?”

“It's the berries that seem wrong. They are so sour.” Arron had concern on his face. “Your father does not use berries in his stew, does he?”

“No. Maybe mushrooms then.”

“That sounds better,” replied Arron. “Surely a stew to win any woman's heart.” Arron seemed quite willing to humor Titon when it came to the topic of his conquest of Red, though he was likely just happy to have someone to speak to. “My father did far less to steal my mother, and they live together to this day.”

The potential for knowing what had worked for Arron's father piqued Titon's interest. He knew little of what really won over women except what he had read in books, which always involved sweeping gestures of chivalry and romance. The men of his clan who had acquired the most favored women did not seem to have followed those methods, however. Everyone knew the story of how his father had taken his Storm Wolf, and as for Keethro, he was just Keethro. The man could have had his choice of any woman in the clan, and rumors were he did quite a fair amount of choosing before making his final selection.
It is no wonder he chose Red's mother in the end
, thought Titon. Kilandra and Red had their similarities in appearance.

“Tell me how he won her affections, if you know the tale.”

Arron looked a little embarrassed. “I am not sure it will really meet your standards. Nor can I be sure that it is all truth.”

Titon shrugged. “It cannot hurt to hear it.”

“All right. My father claims he went to her home every day and asked to see her, and every day her mother would be the one to answer the door and tell him to go away. He was a tanner's son, same as I, and apparently her mother did not want her daughter with such a man. On the seventh day, her father answered the door instead and told him to piss off or something to that effect. So my father punched him in the face, barged into the home, and left with the girl who then became his wife.”

Titon frowned at Arron. All his people's stories of courtship were eerily similar, and none seemed to him to be very realistic.
Perhaps in the case of a tanner's son there would need to be some level of violence involved to find a mate
, Titon admitted. The prospect of having to battle Keethro, however, was as frightening as anything he could imagine, and he did not see it winning him Red's love. His only chance against Keethro was with treachery, and that was not like to impress anyone.

“Well, it is a good story, no doubt. But I think I will stick with my original plan.”

“It is no good story! It is the crap my father tells me when I complain how no girl will come near me due to the smell. I will be no tanner once I am out of my father's house, I can tell you that. It is a cruel thing to put your family through.”

Titon could not disagree. But every clan needed a tanner, and Arron would no doubt be the one they looked to when the time came, as he had no brothers.

“When I decipher this riddle of courtship, I will share with you all its secrets. It will not matter who your father is or what he does. You will get whichever girl you choose, so long as it is not Red, of course.”

Titon took in his surroundings. This would be the last time he would lay eyes on the dark plateaus of the western coast or the sea full of ice. Unable to inhale deeply to enjoy the scent, Titon brushed some of the sea salt that had crystallized on his brow to his palm, dabbed a bit with the tip of his tongue, and determined he preferred the taste to that of the salt traded near his home.
Perhaps I could rig some device that would allow me to farm this salt straight from the air.
Salt was cheap, he knew, but some may pay a premium for this taste of the sea.

“Rika,” said Arron.

“Rika?” Titon had to pause for a moment to remember what their topic had been. “That girl with the bird's nest for hair?”

Arron scowled. “The girl with the beautiful bright-red curls of hair, you mean.”

“Yes, I meant no insult.” Titon did not wish to anger his newfound friend. “A bird's nest is no bad thing. Every bird needs a home.”

Arron's scowl grew, making him look mad enough to strike Titon.

“What I meant to say is—”

“Yes, it is a fecking mess, that head-o-hair.” Arron interrupted with a chuckle. “And I'll have a mind to tell her to brush the damn thing from time to time, once I have some say in the matter.”

Titon laughed in earnest, something he realized had been rare on this trip. “She is the leatherworker's daughter, is she not?”

“Aye, we do a lot of trade with them so I see her often. I tell you, she may not have the finest locks, but what she lacks there she more than makes up for in other areas. The Mountain be thanked. And you of all people could not fault me for liking a
red-
haired girl, no? Even if Red's is hardly so still, she was when you first became enamored, if I have heard you right.”

“Yes. I loved her then, I love her more now, and I would love her more again should her hair switch back to the brightest red. She cannot do wrong in my eyes.”

“You are not well in the head, I think. You may have slipped on some Dogman entrails and cracked your skull.”

“You know what I was thinking? A bouquet of snow lilies. Oh no, wait, lily petals spread out on the table. I think she would appreciate that. She's very artistic herself.”

“So you will build for her a house, filled with the plunder from the greatest raid ever led on the Dogmen, have for her a supper that is like to be even better than the one your mother prefers.” Titon heard Arron struggle with the decision of using past or present tense to speak of Titon's mother—everyone did that. “And it will be presented upon a table strewn with the petals from the rarest flower.
Then
you ravage her?”

“Ha, no. Then I give her the metal ring to show my undying devotion to her. Then perhaps after that I can.” Titon could not control the size of the smile forming across his face.

“Well, I am no lady, but with such a showing you might even win my heart.”

Arron clasped his hands together, placed them to his chest, and stared at Titon affectionately. Titon punched him in the arm and snorted. The two young men walked for a ways in silence while Titon tried to determine if the flower petals should be randomly placed on the table or placed to form a symmetrical pattern.

“Titon,” Arron began more seriously, “how long do you intend to live in such a house, though? You have been adamant about our need to move permanently south. Why go through all the trouble just to leave?”

Titon
had
thought of it. There was not much that escaped his constant analysis. “I figure we have another year or two of easy raids on the Dogmen via the cliffs. I only warn of the need to move south so urgently because all things with our people seem to happen slower than planned. And to have an extra year or two alone with Red would be…” Titon trailed off dramatically at the thought, causing Arron to chuckle at his love-struck friend.

Titon had retaken his place at the front with his brother as they neared their home. Passing through other Galatai clan territories on the way, they were already getting a taste of what it was to return as heroes. Word of their conquest spread faster than the pace at which they traveled, so it was no surprise to see a gathering waiting for them when they finally reached their own lands.

What did surprise Titon was who was in attendance, or more precisely, who was not. It was always easy to recognize the outline of his father given his size, but it seemed quite obvious even from far off that he was not present.
You neither see us off nor greet us upon our return, Father?
Farewells before battle were not a Galatai custom, but a celebration upon victory certainly was.
Perhaps you have a separate ceremony planned just for Decker.
Titon's sardonic thoughts shifted to confusion as he continued to inspect the figures in the distance. The center figure, toward whom the others were turned as if waiting for permission, was clearly that of a woman. With his father absent, Titon would have expected Keethro to be the one the clan would look to for leadership.
Could it be Mother?
The prospect excited him, but he brushed it aside just as quickly as it had come. He must not torment himself with foolish thoughts as did his brother and father.

It soon became evident that it was not his mother. The woman in the center, in addition to having a shape pleasing to the eye, had long dark hair. Beside her was a smaller woman with a similar shape, and around them were sprawled near a hundred of the members of their clan.
Kilandra and Red.

Titon ignored Kilandra, concentrated instead on his heart's tormentor. The weeks away from Red had only intensified her beauty and perfected her form. What was more, she seemed to stare directly at him with adoring affection.