She forced a smile that did not hide her annoyance at all. “For now, though, I believe you should head back to the festivities.”
Kraghtol hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding and taking the excuse. He’d have liked to find out more about the other woman, who had not said a single word in the exchange, but it was almost a miracle this impromptu excuse had worked as it was. He didn’t want to stretch his luck any further.
It was probably a terrible idea to get involved in all of that, too. Whatever Merress and Virex had been conspiring about, and whatever role the Dean played in all of that, should be none of his business. The prudent choice would be to forget everything about it and pretend he hadn’t seen or heard anything. Now he just had to convey this wisdom to the parts of his mind that wanted that mystery to be solved immediately.
When his heartbeat had slowed down again, he made his way back to the marketplace and the main festivities — and promptly ran into the person he wanted to meet least: Valir el Greylune.
The noble clearly had more than a few cups too many and had visible trouble staying upright. His usual circle of admirers wasnotably absent, and Kraghtol had the feeling Valir was looking for something, though perhaps only something to hold on to. When he noticed Kraghtol, however, he immediately approached him, slinging an arm around his shoulder at surprising speed.
“Kraaaasen!” he slurred, the sharp smell of alcohol assaulting Kraghtol’s nose. “I didn’t know you’re here, too!”
Kraghtol tried to break free, but the grip was surprisingly strong, so he played along, if only to avoid a confrontation. “Yes, happy solstice, Valir. Enjoying yourself?”
“Sure am! This is so much fun, don’t you think? So many people, and…”
Apparently, he had lost his train of thought and looked at the comparatively sober man with unfocused eyes.
“You know what, Krasen? Iadmireyou. No, act-actually, I envy you, even.”
That sentiment came unexpectedly, but he didn’t have to ask for elaboration.
“You’re just some… peasant from nowhere. Krasen from nowhere. Right? And yet, you still come here, all on your own and… and… do your thing. I mean, you do what youwant. I couldn’t do that. Heh. Isn’t that funny? Krasen from nowhere can do what Valir, son of his father, can’t do.”
He laughed, but there was no joy in it. Despite the unlikely confession and the alcohol, his voice was still melodic and velvet, making Kraghtol wonder if there had been an elf somewhere in his ancestry.
“You know, I —”
All of a sudden, the noble let go of his shoulder and almost fell to the ground, had it not been for Kraghtol to catch him.
“I think you’re pretty handsome, for a peasant.”
A line of drool was running down from the corner of his mouth, and his breath was sour as he tried to lean forward.
“I think we should go somewhere —” his eyes lit up, “— a haystack. Yes! Let’s go to a haystack and havedirty peasant sex!”
“What?! No! You’re drunk!”
There were a lot of things Kraghtol would have liked to do to the noble, but they certainly didn’t involve any haystacks or touching. It took every bit of willpower not to let him fall to the ground here and now. Instead, he inhaled through gritted teeth.
“Valir! We are in public. People can hear you!”
Valir’s face went slack. “Right. People. People are always watching. And judging. You don’t know how good you have it, Krasen from nowhere.”
Kraghtol didn’t comment on that and instead tried to steer the noble back to the main festivities.
“Come on, let’s get you to your friends.”
“No! No friends! They aren’t my… I need to go… home.”
That was the best idea he had heard from Valir so far, although the chances for the noble to arrive there on his own seemed low at best. Kraghtol sighed and looked around at the cold and dirty white covering the streets. He was a healer, and he knew fairly well what could happen to the drunkard if he let him go on his own. So, cursing his own good heart, he steered the noble towards the Silver Spires and the luxury homes of the noble families.
With his old strength, he would have just resolved to carry the other man, but the best he could do now was to support him, only stopping occasionally to let him throw up into the gutter. When they finally reached the clean walls and lavish gardens of the Silver Spires district, he was relieved to pass Valir onto one of the stone-faced private guards, who roamed the district and kept unwanted visitors out.
Still, as he returned to the marketplace, Kraghtol couldn’t help but wonder, with a hint of pity, how much of that had been the alcohol talking. And how much of it had been the real Valir.
It was close to midnight already when he returned, and some lights in the streets had already burned out. Still, the crowd in the marketplace seemed to be determined to greet the new year in person. It was going to be the year 370 after the unification, and even though he felt tired, Kraghtol, too, wanted to stay up and celebrate the new year.
“You know, it’s said to bring bad luck to begin the new year alone.”
