The Darkness Before the Dawn - By Ryan Hughes Page 0,4
burn out—even one as big as this.”
Jedra turned to see Sahalik standing with his hands on his hips. He, too, had draped a cloak over his shoulders, but he wore it pulled back to expose his hairy chest. The hilt of his sword stood forward at an angle that insured instant readiness, and the pommel glittered in the firelight.
“We’re discovering that,” Jedra said. “We’ve asked Galar for a place to—”
“Galar! Hah, you won’t see him for the rest of the night. He’s got some catching up to do, if you follow my meaning.”
“Oh,” Jedra said, suddenly embarrassed. Of course Galar had better things to do than look after Jedra and Kayan. He was a full member of the tribe; he probably had a lover or even a wife here, maybe even a whole family. He had been away longer than just the few days in the slave caravan, too; during their long hours of captivity he had described how he’d been forced into the gladiator games in Urik for at least a month, fighting for his life against wild animals and other gladiators, some willing, some not. If Jedra were in Galar’s place, he probably wouldn’t surface again for days.
“Well, then,” Jedra said, “maybe we can ask the same thing of you that we asked of Galar.”
Sahalik laughed. “Seems to me you turned down the best offer in the camp earlier tonight. You should’ve thought of that before it got cold; Rayna’s already found another.” He shifted his eyes to Kayan and grinned widely. Two of his teeth were missing, one upper and one lower on the right side. “As for you, pretty one, I might be able to find a warm spot for you tonight.”
“I imagine you could,” Kayan said sarcastically, “but I prefer to stay with Jedra.”
The elf frowned. “Don’t be so hasty. I’ve got a fine tent all to my own, and a soft—”
“I said no.” Kayan’s voice cut through the night like a thunderclap. All conversation stopped. In the sudden silence, a burning timber popped, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
Sahalik stood like a statue, completely taken aback. Evidently no one had ever refused him before, at least so publicly. He opened his mouth to speak, but could find no words to say.
Galar saved them all from further embarrassment. He skidded into the circle of firelight, his clothes in disarray and his hair sticking out in all directions, and took in the scene in a glance. Then he whirled around and shouted into the darkness, “Where’s that lazy bard? The night’s nearly gone. We’ll hear your song now, bard!”
The rest of the tribe picked up his cue. They cheered and stamped their feet, shouting, “Song! Song!” and eventually the bard stepped into the firelight. He carried a harp under his right arm, and a sheaf of parchment in his left hand. He looked less worried than when Jedra had first seen him; in fact, now that he was the center of attention he walked with a cocky spring to his step and when he spoke his voice was full of mischief.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, waving the parchment. “I’m up to seventy-three verses now and still have more tale to tell.”
The elves groaned, and someone yelled, “Save it for the trail tomorrow. Give us the short version.”
The bard shook his head. “Nay, nay, that would slight our guests, and our illustrious Galar whose misadventures in Urik brought us to this glorious feast. I shall give you the long version, and make up more as I go along.”
There was quite a bit of good-natured groaning, and someone whispered loudly, “Be ready with the rotten fruit.”
The bard pointed at a water cask that someone was using for a stool and said, “I appropriate your seat for the cause.” When the elf had vacated it, he set his right foot firmly on the cask, placed his harp on his thigh, and gave the strings a strum. The air filled with resonant sound, and the babble of voices hushed. The bard picked out the beginnings of a tune, then when he had built it into a recognizable melody, he began to sing in a rich, carrying voice:
Oh, the Jura-Dai tribe is a wandering one
And our exploits are marry and true,
But the exploit I sing of tonight is so dumb
’Tis a deed only Galar would do.
The elves burst into laughter, and Galar took a deep bow. All through the exchange Jedra had been painfully aware of Sahalik’s