Twenty minutes later, with his pants and shirt back in their rightful places, Nalyx meandered across the road, grateful that the hospital was so near to the town square. The warriors’ barracks were on the far side of the square, far enough from the main events of the festival to keep the noise at bay – for those actually inclined to try and get some sleep – but close enough that it wasn’t an effort to stumble back to bed after a night of revelry.
Sure enough, the party was in full swing. Dancers swayed gracefully on the stage at one end of the square. A band of musicians kept up a lively beat, and down the centre of the square, a long row of tables were set out with every imaginable dish of food – roasted meats, herbed potatoes, mushrooms fried in butter, egg tarts, succulent pies. At one end, there were also desserts – fruit pies, pastries and honey cakes that had no doubt been brought along by the local bakers. Most of the two hundred warriors were right in the thick of things, eating, drinking and dancing with the serving women. Plenty of the townsfolk had showed up as well, giving boisterous cheers as various warriors told stories of their victories in battle. Ribbons were strung from the rooftops and lanterns lit the square, holding the darkness at bay.
On a good day, Nalyx would have gone straight for the table of drinks, eager to begin the process of filling his blood stream with alcohol. But tonight, he headed for the food first. He hadn’t eaten last night, nor had anything more filling than a piece of bread today, and his stomach was growling in protest.
“Nalyx!” A young woman spotted him almost immediately and sashayed over to him. “There you are, you handsome devil.” Nalyx grinned at her. Her name was Liatra, and for the last two cycles, she’d been making a point of being available to him – something he’d eagerly taken advantage of. She was dressed in a skirt that was almost indecently short and a blue blouse that hugged her generous breasts. Her long, blonde hair fell about her shoulders, and she tossed her head, making the curls sway and bounce.
“Oh, but you poor thing,” she crooned, stroking a hand down his right arm. It was supported in a sling now, to keep his shoulder steady. “You’re so brave, fighting all those demons.”
“Good to see you, Liatra,” Nalyx said. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You missed all the fun last night. Hallix killed aunicorn! I’d have been terrified, facing a beast like that, but he was all juststab, slash,” she said, mimicking the movements of what had no doubt been a rousing tale.
Nalyx’s moderately good mood vanished. “I heard,” he said, trying not to sound too put out about it. Hallix had more or less saved his life, after all. But clearly, his own role in the battle had not been part of Hallix’s retelling.
“Petra thinks he’s going to ask her to marry him. I don’t think he will. Petra’s too chubby for him. You boys would rather have a piece ofthis.” She stretched her arms above her head, pushing her chest out.
“Andthisis looking mighty fine today,” Nalyx said, feeling a stirring of interest in his groin.
Liatra grinned. “Come on. Let’s go get a drink. And I want to dance.” She grabbed his arm and tugged… but Nalyx let out a pained cry, pulling away. She’d grabbed hisrightarm, regardless of the sling clearly demonstrating the fact that it was injured.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Does that hurt?”
No, he just enjoyed screaming for the sake of it. The stirring in his groin faded immediately on the back of the renewed pain in his shoulder. “Could you do me a huge favour?” he asked, ignoring her question. Despite her apparent sympathy, she wasn’t likely to be impressed if he actually admitted that the wound hurt.
“Anything for you,” Liatra cooed, adjusting her blouse so that it revealed an extra inch of skin.
“Set me up with a plate of food? I’m stuck with a few littlecomplicationsafter the battle.” He held up his bandaged left hand.
“Coming right up,” Liatra said, then walked away, hips swaying, while Nalyx went to find a likely spot to sit down. His arm was killing him, and he briefly considered bowing out of the party in favour of a good, long rest. But he’d never hear the end of it from the captain if he did. The townsfolk came out to see the warriors, he’d been told often enough, and it was their duty in return to show that the people’s efforts were appreciated. He should have got Liatra to get him a drink as well, he realised belatedly. At least whisky would have gone a way towards numbing the pain in his shoulder.
◊ ◊ ◊
Gantalla forced her mouth to continue smiling at the warrior in front of her as the waves of festival-goers flowed all around her. This was the famous Hallix, Fin had told her, when she’d introduced them, and Gantalla was doing her best to look interested as he recounted his apparentlyepicbattle with the unicorn.
“So the unicorn rears up in the air,” he was saying, paying more attention to Gantalla’s breasts than to either Gantalla herself or to the story, “and I dart in and stab him through the heart.” His hands were thick and meaty as he acted out the scene, a far cry from the artistic hands of a hadathmet, and his light brown hair was much like the colour of… well, of hadathmet faeces, if Gantalla was honest about it. “But his hooves are going crazy,” Hallix went on, “and the damn thing’s trying to smash my brains in as it flails about. Fire everywhere and Henrick nowhere to be seen. I swear to the gods, I thought my life was over in that moment.”
“It sounds like a terrifying fight,” Gantalla said, trying to sound impressed. Indeed, it probably had been terrifying, but more so for the unicorn than for this arrogant human. “Oh, but your cup is empty,” she said, grabbing onto the first excuse to interrupt him. “Let me go and get you another.”
Hallix ran a sweaty hand down her cheek, tweaking her chin. “Much obliged,” he said with a smirk, once more glancing down at her breasts. Gantalla resisted the urge to pull the lace higher. “Don’t be too long.”
With her best attempt at a sultry smile, Gantalla walked away, swaying her hips as she’d seen the other young women doing. By the gods, how long would she have to put up with this alcohol-fuelled mess before she could make a quick getaway? Already she’d been leered at by a dozen different men, had her ass groped three times, and one man – already three sheets to the wind, despite the relatively early hour – had suggested she pull down her top and show him her tits. “Oh, you naughty boy,” she’d replied, resisting the urge to slap him. And then she’d swiftly redirected him towards another of the young ladies who had quickly proven herself only too willing to comply with his request.
Now, she headed for the table where a group of men were serving drinks. These lot weren’t warriors, and so were a more respectful crowd. Most of them were older, at least middle-aged, some with grey creeping into their hairlines. Glancing over her shoulder, she was relieved to see that Hallix was already distracted with another young woman, a second soldier slapping him on the back as he greeted him, and so Gantalla set the cup down on the end of the table, ignoring the men serving the drinks, and headed quickly in the opposite direction. Hallix wouldn’t notice her absence, and if he did, she could simply say she’d been caught up by another of the warriors.
Finding a quiet spot at the side of the square, she took a deep breath and gave in to the urge to adjust her blouse. Not that it did much good. The instant she let go of the fabric, is slid down again, stopping just shy of giving everyone an eyeful of her nipples. She checked that her obsidian gem was tucked safely and discreetly between her breasts. Well, if there was one good thing about the lace, it was that it disguised the leather cord that the gem was attached to. Why in the gods’ names had she let Fin talk her into wearing this?
Because if you don’t fit in, you’re a dead woman walking, she reminded herself sharply. These human customs were baffling, but if she didn’t at least try to blend in, someone was bound to get suspicious. Just a couple more hours, then she could be on her way to Palashran and away from these obnoxious warriors.
Her stomach growled as she stood there, and abruptly, she remembered the other reason she’d agreed to this ridiculous charade. She was poverty-stricken in this strange new world, and before she headed out of town, she needed to find a way to earn some money. Or at the very least, to charm one of the warriors into giving her the means to buy a coat or some boots. She’d seen several of the men handing the serving women gifts, like a string of jewels or a set of ribbons. She’d eyed the jewels longingly, remembering a jade necklace she’d once owned that she’d had to trade for a meal, and a diamond bracelet she’d given to a salas in exchange for safe passage across a ravine. The bridge had been guarded by thugs, and the salas, with his mighty sword, had cleared a path for her, after demanding the bracelet as payment.
Here, as well, jewellery was more of a practical necessity than a pretty decoration – as much as she longed to be wearing some of the pieces she’d seen around the other women’s throats. Jewels could be sold for money, which she could then use to buy some new clothes. But to do that, she’d have to put up with more leering and groping.
Her stomach gave a louder growl, and Gantalla winced. It had been three days since she’d had a proper meal, and two days without anything at all. But with all the stress of crossing the gate, and then the anxiety of trying to fit in with the humans, she’d overlooked her own hunger. But that was one problem she could do something about.
She headed for the table of food, feeling uneasy as she wondered if anyone would object to her taking a plate for herself, given that she was a newcomer here. But no one seemed to be paying her any mind, so she picked up a wooden plate and looked over the food on offer.
None of it looked familiar. There was meat, of course, and she helped herself to some, not knowing what sort of animals the humans ate, but prepared to give it a try. There was a pie, but she couldn’t identify anything that was inside it, so she decided to give it a miss. She didn’t recognise any of the vegetables, and a few of the dishes smelled decidedly odd. But then she spotted a tray of what looked like a type of mushroom. Mushrooms had been a delicacy back in Chalandros – before the heat had killed off the last of the cultures – and she scooped a large spoonful onto her plate. May as well make the most of the opportunity. There was also what seemed to be a type of bread, so she took a slice and sniffed it. It smelled different from the bread she’d had at home, but close enough. Further down the table, there were colourful fruits, and she picked up a slice of one of them and popped it into her mouth. It was crisp and firm, and she was surprised to find that it tasted a lot like grenfruit, one of the staple crops from back home. But this version was sweeter, with a pale red skin, rather than the dull green of grenfruit. Either way, it was delicious. She quickly loaded several more slices onto her plate.
