Just at that moment, a drunken women lurched her way past Gantalla and happened to glance at her plate. “Oh, you like apples,” the woman crowed, grabbing onto the edge of the table for support. “This year’s crop wasspectacular! I like apples,” she said emphatically, grabbing a couple of slices and shoving them into her mouth. Then she staggered off down to the end of the table.
Apples. Right, then. Gantalla resolved to remember the name.
Meal sorted, she looked around for a quiet corner to eat in. Not too far from the main crowd, lest anyone think she was being standoffish, but far enough that she could have a few minutes peace to concentrate on her meal.
But as she cast her eyes over the throngs of people, one man in particular caught her attention. From his build, he was likely a warrior, all lean muscle and wiry strength. But it wasn’t his body that had caught her eye. He was sitting on a wide stone step, with three of the serving women hovering around him. All three were coyly trying to gain his attention, playing with their hair, puffing out their chests, and one was actually sitting on his lap, gyrating her hips as she giggled and smiled.
But the man had clearly been injured. His right arm was in a sling, and both his hands were wrapped in bandages. His injuries were making it difficult for him to eat, and the women seemed to be making a token effort to ‘help’. But they seemed more focused on flirting than actually allowing him to eat anything, and the man, in contrast to so many of the other warriors, seemed more annoyed than amused by the constant teasing. As she watched, the woman on his lap held up a fork with a piece of meat on it, waving it enticingly before the man’s face. He tried to bite at it three times before the woman finally gave in and let him eat it, then she pouted in what Gantalla assumed was supposed to be a seductive way and stroked her fingers through the man’s hair. His hair was dark and long enough that it almost reached his chin, much like the style a hadathmet man might have chosen. His skin was a bronzed brown colour, and his jaw was dusted with a few days’ growth of stubble. He was still ugly, by the colourful scope of Chalandrian beauty standards, but Gantalla could see a certain appeal to him, physical strength and a canny watchfulness in his eyes.
The man gave a pointed look at the plate of food set beside him and said something to the woman, though Gantalla was too far away to hear what it was, and the woman coyly speared the next piece of food with her fork… before cheekily shoving it into her own mouth instead. Gods, at this rate, the man was going to starve to death before he got to finish his meal.
Before she could think twice about it, Gantalla strode in his direction, taking her own plate of food with her. “May I share a little secret with you?” she said to the woman in his lap. The woman looked up, a scowl appearing on her face as she clearly objected to the interruption. “I happened to overhear Calium talking just a moment ago,” Gantalla said, nodding to a warrior over by the dessert table. She’d happened to learn the man’s name as she’d overheard a conversation earlier in the night. “He said you’re lookingexceptionallypretty this evening. And… now, I could be wrong… but I thought I heard him mention something about a sapphire necklace that would look exquisite around your neck.”
The woman squealed in delight, all traces of annoyance disappearing. “Oh, well, I’ll have to go and have a chat with Calium then,” she said, hopping off the man’s lap without a second thought. She was gone a moment later, and as predicted, her two companions got up and rushed after her, no doubt eager to ply the unfortunate man with their own charms.
Gantalla watched them go, then turned back to the man. He was watching her with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. “I’m Gantalla,” she said, taking a cautious seat beside him.
“Nalyx,” the man said. “That’s Nay-lix, with a long ‘a’. Too many people pronounce it Nah-lix, and that sounds too much like Hallix, and the gods know I’ve heard quite enough about him this evening.”
Gantalla, too, had heard quite enough about the revered unicorn-killer, but she refrained from saying so. “I thought maybe you could use some help in eating your dinner,” she said, glancing at his plate – which was still mostly full. Nalyx rolled his eyes, but Gantalla jumped in before he could say anything. “I meanactualhelp, rather than someone just gyrating on your lap.”
Nalyx looked surprised for a moment – likely not having realised anyone had noticed his predicament – then he smiled, a far more genuine expression than he’d given to the group of young women. “That would be most appreciated.”
Gantalla set her own plate down and picked up his, spearing a random piece of food with the fork. She held it out, and he took the bite, seeming both relieved and surprised when she actually let him have it. She waited while he chewed, then fed him the next piece, and in between bites, she ate the food on her own plate, relieved that she seemed to have found the answer to her current dilemma. She had a quiet place to sit, along with an activity that would keep anyone from getting suspicious about her lack of enthusiasm for the drunken flirting going on across the square. And as far as serving the warriors went, helping one of them eat was far preferable to giving them foot rubs or massaging their shoulders, as she saw several of the other women doing.
Long minutes passed in silence, though the lack of conversation was comfortable, rather than awkward, until both their plates were empty.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” Nalyx said, once she’d set the empty plates aside. “And not to push my luck, but could I ask you for a favour?”
“I suppose so,” Gantalla said, wary of what he was going to ask for. So far, he’d neither said nor done anything suggestive, but given the behaviour of the rest of the men, she wasn’t holding her breath.
“Could you go and fetch me a bottle of whisky?”
“Of course.” Such a simple request was a relief.
“I mean abottle,” Nalyx said, as Gantalla stood up. “Not a cup. A bottle.”
Gantalla felt a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said playfully. Odd, how it was suddenly so easy to flirt a little with this man. He had neither horns nor tail to pique her interest, his lips were a little too thin and his ears slightly too low… but he was quiet and respectful, and that was currently making the world of difference. And the crooked smile on his lips when she agreed to his request gave her an odd little flutter in her belly. With the war and the famine going on back in Chalandros, it had been a long time since anyone had had the time or energy for something so simple as flirting.
She headed for the table of drinks. Unlike the last time she’d approached this table, she walked straight up to the grey-haired man at the near end. “A bottle of whisky, please? It’s for Nalyx,” she added, nodding to where Nalyx was sitting at the side of the square.
“Ah, such a fine young man,” the elderly man said. He reached down and picked up a bottle from near his feet, holding it out, along with two cups. “Enjoy. And take care of him, would you? Poor bastard copped a right lashing this time around.”
“I will,” Gantalla said, taking the offered items and returning swiftly to Nalyx’s side.
“Oh, you’re a gem,” Nalyx said, as she arrived back. “I was beginning to think I’d die of thirst before the night was over.”
Gantalla poured a generous portion into one of the cups, then, because Nalyx seemed to expect it, she put another splash into the second cup. She wondered if she would have to help him drink it, but Nalyx reached over, cradling the cup between his bandaged hands, and lifted it to his lips. It was a clumsy movement, but he got the job done well enough, taking a large swallow. Then he sat back, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Oh, sweet nectar of the gods.”
Curious, Gantalla took a cautious sip from her own cup, surprised to find it tasted quite good. There was a drink in Chalandros called gerian which tasted similar. Normally, of course, she’d have been sipping on sweet wine from a fine crystal goblet, but given the circumstances, this was a pleasant surprise.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, before Nalyx spoke again. “Aren’t you going to ask how I was injured?”
Something in his tone made her look twice. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” he said bluntly.
“Then let’s talk about something else.”
