Hearts and Stones - Robin D. Owens Page 0,37
more-than-shabby nearby saloon a few doors down this side of the rough square. Ash already recognized the mirth of Holm HollyHeir.
Ash shrugged. Time to help the Holly, and Rand would have the noble’s aid in dealing with not only this Rue, but the whole clan.
Even as Zanth slunk after the Rue men, Ash sauntered into the Pewter Celtaroon, better known as the Putrid Roon, and saw Holm holding his bared sword, his chin jutting out. Had probably just delivered a string of insults.
“Greetyou,” Ash said, and it emerged like a growl from his throat, his residual anger matched heat with his Passage fever burning through him, taking the sharp edge of his mind away.
A sea of whispers rose throughout the room, and men close to the Holly, and to Ash, faded back to leave the long length of the bar to them. The barkeep looked pained at the desertion of drinkers.
“Greetyou, friend Rand!” HollyHeir switched his sword to his left hand, though Ash had already determined the man could fight perfectly with either, thrust out his arm for a manly elbow-clasp.
Yeah, Passage fever showed in those eyes, no doubt spiking even more recklessness than usual in the nobleman. Ash found his own energy rising, decided that repressing it took too much caring. “Hope you had a better day than I, Holm,” Ash found himself saying, a little surprised. He didn’t complain, never spoke about his personal life.
Holm heaved a breath. “Pounded on by my brother and father and G’Uncle to prepare me for tonight.” He still sounded jaunty, and unlike Ash, didn’t smell like Passage-sweat but the best herbs. No doubt had them inside and out. Lucky guy.
A commanding cough issued from the barkeep. When Ash glanced at him, he jerked his head toward the door, mouthed “Pay you gilt later. Go, now.”
Ash felt agreeable, since he wouldn’t put it past Holm to instigate another brawl right here. He angled his head, asked the Holly, “You really wanna break up more furniture? Hard on the body.”
The man pivoted on his heel, his grip easy but firm on his sword. People shrank back to the walls. “Bunch of cowa-- ”
Ash grabbed him before he could finish. “Out, Holly.”
He’d done that enough the night before that the noble didn’t fight him, merely blinked, then followed Ash’s push to the door.
He reached it first and held it open.
“Grateful!” called the barman.
“Later,” replied Holm brightly.
As Ash stepped behind him, drew the heavy door closed, the noble frowned at him. “Call me Holm. You haven’t used my name, and after we fought together all last night.” Settling into his stance he stared at Ash.
“Holm,” Ash said.
“Good, that’s good.” He looked around the rubble rectangle, and Ash couldn’t tell how much he saw, how good his night vision was. Ash suspected better than his own sight, part of the man’s Flair.
“Maybe we can go into Druida City proper,” Ash offered. “Find some wrongdoers.” Might take all night looking for fools up and down the streets, but better that than fighting every minute of the whole night. Might even get back to his lean-to before dawn.
“Aren’t there folk you want to score off of in your part of the city?”
“I can settle any slights with ill-friends -- should they dare to challenge me -- in bouts at The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon.” Holm’s words came casual and cheerful, not with the arrogant spin Zanth would have put on them. Holm flung his arms wide, sword tipping downward, then reeled. Ash propped him up first with his torso to keep Holm standing, then with an arm around his shoulders. As their bodies brushed, Rand realized the Passage fever sparking in Holm’s eyes revealed the least of the man’s biological and emotional changes. Holm’s third night of Passage outstripped Ash’s first evening by far.
If Rand felt off-kilter, barely able to think, Holm must be operating solely on instinct. Ash’s respect for the man grew. Yeah, Rand’s protestation of friendship could become real with a man like this.
He’d always heard the Hollys practiced Honor and Loyalty, the two most precious personal qualities as far as Ash was concerned.
“I hear you, friend Holm.”
“Go back to Druida City instead of staying Downwind? Perhaps. There are usually troublemakers at the gates of the city,” Holm stepped away from Ash to sheathe his sword. “Think I heard ruffians are bothering the southgate guards. We can go there first.”
Teleport clear around the walled city, to each of the three gates, maybe stand on