Nalyx raised an eyebrow at her. “I haven’t seen you around here before. You’re not like the other women.”
Thank the gods for that, she thought bitterly. She had yet to expose either her breasts or her buttocks, nor had she felt the need to run her hands over anyone’s muscles. “I’m not from around here. I’m on my way to Palashran. To see my brother.” She was sticking to the one lie, lest idle gossip catch her out and she find herself having to explain any discrepancies in her story. “I happened to be in town when the gate closed, and then everyone insisted I stay for the festival.”
“You don’t sound terribly happy about it.”
Gantalla sighed. “I’m very grateful to all the warriors for your efforts,” she said, knowing it was the expected answer. “But it’s not a good time for me. My father was killed recently. I only have one brother left, so I thought…”
“Gods, I’m sorry. It must be rough. I mean, around here, everyone gets so caught up in worrying about the gate, it’s easy to forget that people have other things to worry about.”
Gantalla smiled sadly. “I don’t want to inflict my problems on everyone else.” They both fell silent, but she found herself wanting to continue to conversation. Nalyx seemed more respectful than most of the warriors, and if nothing else, talking to him gave her something to do for the evening. “Tell me something about you?”
“Like what?”
“Why did you decide to become a warrior?” It wasn’t just an idle conversation starter. She was genuinely mystified about the humans’ insistence that all those from Chalandros were demons, so maybe hearing Nalyx’s story would put some of it into perspective.
Nalyx sighed. “It seemed a pretty easy decision at the time. My father was a warrior. So was my grandfather. They were both killed defending the gate.”
She gave a pointed look at his injured arm. “So you thought you’d try and do the same?” she said, before she could think better of it.
Nalyx scowled. “Takes more than a busted shoulder to take me out,” he said.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Gantalla apologised. So it seemed he had an ego after all. Plenty of the other warriors did, though so far, Nalyx hadn’t seemed interested in boasting about his accomplishments. But she still had a long way to go before she got the hang of the humans’ culture. “Please, go on.”
Nalyx took another mouthful of whisky. “I grew up listening to stories about how many demons my father had killed and how brave everyone thought he was. I wanted to be like him. I still do. But he was killed when I was fifteen. There was this big funeral and everyone gave my mother gifts and sang songs about the demons he’d killed. They kept telling me what a noble sacrifice he’d made, but I just wanted him to come home again. And I guess I thought twice about it all, for a little while. I mean, for young, single men, it’s fine, but once you’ve got a wife and kids… But then my mother…” He stopped, a dark look coming over his face.
“But then your mother…?”
“Never mind,” he said, swiftly changing his mind. “The point is, I was sixteen, and I needed to find something useful to do with my life, so I started training with the warriors. Defend the city, make some money, have a bunch of pretty young women running around after me. It didn’t seem half bad. So here I am.” That seemed to be the end of the story, and he picked up his cup again, draining the last of the liquid. Then he reached for the bottle, only to be brought up short as he realised he couldn’t undo the cap with his injured hands. “Gah, fuck!”
“I’ll get it,” Gantalla said, filling his cup again. He drained it in one go, then held it out again.
Obligingly, she filled it. It was none of her business if he ended up with the mother of all hangovers tomorrow. She’d be long gone by then.
“So it was just you and your brother?” Nalyx asked, an obvious attempt at changing the subject. Since the raid on her city, Gantalla hadn’t actually had a chance to talk about it. Perhaps it would help to exorcise some of her own demons.
“No. I had three brothers and three sisters. I was the youngest of them all. Two of my brothers were killed. I still have a sister, though. But she’s still in Gadash.” The name of the city was irrelevant. Her sister has chosen to remain behind. “My father was…” She stopped herself before she blurted out that he had been a king. That detail would make no sense to these humans. “He was wealthy. He owned some land. But our home was attacked by raiders. They burned the whole place to the ground. I tried to talk my sister into coming with me, but she refused to leave. She said the journey would be too dangerous. Maybe she was right. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I just figured I had to try. There was no point in staying.” She sighed, taking another sip of her whisky. “I guess I’m just taking it one day at a time.”
“Sometimes, that’s the best we can do,” Nalyx said. “I gotta say, though, I’m glad you came here. If you hadn’t, I’d never have got to eat dinner.” He snorted, then laughed, and Gantalla realised the whisky was having an effect.
“Tell me more about the city,” she said, wanting to keep him talking. “What do you do while you’re not fighting at the gate?”
“Training. Drinking. Having lots of sex.” He winked at her, but as crude as the statement was, she wasn’t surprised. The crowds of young women had already made it plain that that was the case.
The conversation meandered on, and by the time the whisky bottle was three-quarters empty, Nalyx’s eyes were drooping and he was slurring his words.
“You know, you’re really pretty,” he said, grinning sloppily at her. “And you’re good at listening. Most of the girls just want to get into my pants. Which is nice, most of the time. I like women. But you’re different. Better.” He reached for his cup again, but only managed to knock it over. Thankfully, it was mostly empty. “Fuck,” he swore, though he dismissed the issue a moment later. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.”
“I think so, too,” Gantalla agreed. For her own part, she’d only had one cup, so she was still feeling fairly clear-headed. “How about I help you go to bed?”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Nalyx said. “You might have to help me out, though.” He shot her a lascivious grin. “I don’t think I can get my pants off. I like your hair.” He clumsily patted her head. “All silky and smooth.”
“Steady on, champ,” Gantalla said, getting to her feet and then helping Nalyx stand up. With the amount he’d drunk, there was little chance he’d manage to do more than fall into bed and pass out. And if he did try to get handsy, she should be able to fend him off well enough – not only because of all the alcohol in his veins, but because he couldn’t actually use his hands at the moment. Besides which, she was going to have to spend the night somewhere, so it may as well be with a warrior who was too drunk to cause any trouble. “Let’s keep your pants on at least long enough to get back to your room.” He’d told her earlier in the night that each of the warriors had their own room, in the spacious barracks off the back of the town square.
“You’ve got the best tits,” he said, and Gantalla rolled her eyes. The gods forbid she find even one decent man amongst this rabble. It had been going so well, too. Before he’d drunk the better part of a bottle of whisky, he’d been perfectly polite. “This is exactly what I needed tonight,” he slurred, weaving from side to side as he walked. “Whisky and…” He let his gaze wander down over her body, a sly look on his face. “… and lace.”
Gods above, she was getting rid of this blouse at the first available opportunity. What the hell would her father think of her, strutting about like a prized heifer in a show ring?
Well, maybe he’d actually be proud of her, she reflected after a moment. After all, she’d made it all the way to the gate and then survived a whole day in the human world. Maybe he’d make allowances, given the circumstances.
