Rob Scott - The Larion Senators

As a young girl, Erynn had envied the older children in her street on festival nights, for she was confined to her room upstairs, where she would sit for avens watching the partygoers, drinking and eating and dancing and groping one another, their voices growing louder and louder as the night wore on until the whole street was just one teeming, screaming mass of roiling pleasure. Watching from above, Erynn was entranced by this fundamental, basic kind of revelry. For her, it captured the essence of Pellia’s dockers, fishermen and merchants. It was sexy and violent and fun and dangerous all at once, and the girl longed to be there, smelling, tasting and feeling the myriad sensations.

Now Erynn was old enough to work the party, and she was exhausted, constantly moving from the open fire-pit for trenchers of meat to the bar for fresh tankards. She was inside the Wayfarer just long enough to break into a sweat, then as she pushed her way between the partygoers outside, she felt the layer of moisture on her skin threaten to freeze and she realised she’d wake the following midday with a thundering cold. Already her throat felt sore – as did her budding breasts, which had been pinched and fondled so many times Erynn worried that they might not be there at all. Only the pain assured her that they were still attached. And her backside was so bruised that she might never sit down again. I’ll fall down, she thought; that’s how I’ll get some rest.

Yet the heavy apron pocket full of coppers heartened her. With every new tray of beer or spitted pork, Erynn braced herself for another go at the crowd. More copper, she told herself, just keep collecting their money. She was careful to empty the coins out every third or fourth lap, in case she was robbed, or jounced so hard she tumbled over. Her legs ached so much that it wouldn’t take much to knock her to her knees, and Erynn didn’t want to risk losing a night’s wages across the cobblestones if that happened.

And then there was Karel, the soldier. He was only a few Twinmoons older than she, but he was finished with school – the gratis Twinmoons, anyway – and had already enlisted in the army. He came around a lot, stopping in for a meal or tankard of beer, and he was always polite, greeting Erynn’s parents and using a napkin while he ate. He wasn’t attractive; with his wide eyes and a sloping forehead beneath a tangle of tiny curls, he looked a bit dough-headed, but Erynn liked him immensely, and had already decided to let him kiss her tonight – if he was still around when the party finally died. He had tried to kiss her already, in the shadows across the street, but Erynn had been in a hurry, and her tray had been full of dirty trenchers and half-empty tankards. She didn’t want their first kiss to be over a filthy trencher filled with uneaten bread crusts and pig-fat and discarded pipe ashes.

And then there was Hoyt, who was older than her, old than Karel, even. Erynn thought the dashing, witty Pragan was gorgeous, even if he was a bit unkempt, and he set her heart thrumming. She had been smitten at first sight. Now she made a point of going via the fireplace and Hoyt’s table, adding unnecessary distance to each hurried lap, but that didn’t matter. Passing by the fire helped to banish the cold, and this way, she never had to go more than a few moments without seeing him. If this was how people were supposed to behave when they drank and told the truth and coveted one another, then Erynn Kestral wanted to be as near as possible to Hoyt Navarro in case he decided to join the fray and maybe even come looking for her.

Hoyt was in a sour mood. Grimacing into his beer, he kneaded his shoulder, trying to shift the pain. ‘I don’t know why it still hurts,’ he grumbled. ‘Alen stitched it neatly enough, it’s been treated with querlis and I’ve kept it immobile. It ought to be feeling better by now.’

‘You were stabbed,’ Alen said, ‘and by a nasty rutting Seron; that’s going to take time to get over properly. Finish eating, then you can head back upstairs to bed. I don’t like the idea of Milla alone up there, anyway.’

‘She’s all right,’ Hannah said, peeling back Hoyt’s collar to get a look at his stitches. ‘She was sound asleep when I checked on her.’

‘You need the rest, Hoyt.’ Alen sounded determined.

‘I guess you’re right,’ Hoyt said as he nibbled at a piece of pork. Erynn had brought them great slices from the spitted animal roasting out back as soon as it was ready. Now she collected Alen’s empty trencher and checked they all had drinks.

‘That was some news about those terrorists, huh?’ she asked anyone listening. Erynn didn’t care who answered, as long as someone did, giving her a reason to linger.

‘We hadn’t heard much about it.’ Hannah took the bait, although her aim was to divert the girl to another topic.

‘Really?’ Erynn sounded surprised. ‘The whole city’s talking about it. It was terrible, a whole squadron or something, a bunch of them anyway, shooting arrows, flaming arrows. And then they had dogs or wolves, or some kind of creatures trained to attack all together. It was horrible. I bet it was Ronans; my father says they’re the worst of the foreigners.’

‘Oh, does he?’ Hoyt said, craning his neck to see her over his shoulder. ‘Does he really?’

Erynn hesitated. ‘Um, yes, well, not all the time, you know.’ She glanced at his shoulder and the bulky bandage peeking out beneath his collar and blushed crimson. ‘Um, I’ll just get rid of this trencher.’ She loaded it onto her tray and was gone.

‘Does she have to keep doing that?’ Hoyt frowned.

‘What?’ Hannah laughed, ‘she’s over the moon for you, Hoyt – give her a break; she’s just a kid. Don’t let your shoulder turn you into an old fart.’

‘ “Over the moon”?’

‘Over the moon; you know, full of passion,’ Hannah explained, ‘she’s intrigued by the mystique of an older man. Trust me; it’s very common at that age.’

Hoyt smirked. ‘So she ought to be after Alen, then. Good rutters, he’s older than… than the city!’

‘Nonsense,’ Alen interrupted, indignant, ‘Pellia was here days before I was born.’

‘Enjoy the attention while you can,’ Hannah said. ‘We’ll be gone from here before too long.’

‘It’s just irritating, that’s all.’

‘It’s adorable, and you’re going to break her heart. There’s nothing you can say or do, short of promising to take her away and marry her-’

‘Stand the tides,’ Alen corrected.

‘Fine,’ Hannah went on, ‘short of standing the tides with her, nothing will ruin her memory of the handsome stranger who passed through her life and ignited the fires of ardent, youthful love.’

‘Holy rutting whores, but do you make this stuff up for the theatre or something?’ Hoyt drained his beer in a gulp.

‘Just the voice of experience, brother, the voice of experience.’

‘Well, I don’t- Oh gods, here she comes again!’

Erynn danced between the tables. She paused in front of the fire, warming herself and trying hard not to look at their table. In a moment, she was on her way over again.

‘Lords, but it’s cold out there, and crowded. There’s hundreds of them,’ she said, trying again to extend her visit.

‘You look tired,’ Hannah said. ‘Do you want to sit down for a bit?’

Hoyt glared at her.

‘I’d love to,’ Erynn grinned, ‘but there’s too much to do. My mother and father would strap me silly if they caught me sitting down now.’

‘At least make sure you get some rest when this is over,’ Hannah said. ‘And don’t worry about the breakfast crowd. No one will be awake tomorrow, not after a night like this.’

Erynn wiped her forehead on her sleeve. ‘How’s your shoulder, Hoyt?’