Raymond E. Feist - The Complete Legends of the Riftwar Trilogy - Honoured Enemy, Murder in Lamut, Jimmy the Hand

A platter containing a half-consumed marmot was pushed down to Asayaga and in spite of feeling bloated he reached into the body, pulled out a leg-bone and sucked the meat off.

‘Hey, Ass-you. Just how the hell can you eat that?’

Asayaga looked over at Wolfgar and started to bristle. Then he caught Alyssa’s bemused stare. Without comment he pushed the platter to Wolfgar. ‘Try it.’

Wolfgar belched loudly and shook his head. ‘I’d sooner eat horse dung that was still warm. And tell me, why do you Tsurani smell funny? By the gods, I think you were a bunch of temple harlots.’

The conversation around them drifted off, though Asayaga’s men did not understand the words, they knew enough of Wolfgar after one day to sense that their leader was being baited.

‘It’s because we don’t smell,’ Asayaga replied.

‘How is that? You speak in riddles.’

‘Because we bathe the way all civilized men do. You’re smelling someone who is clean, which is more than I can say for you. I think the butt end of a she bear in heat smells better in comparison to you.’

He said the words calmly, but there was the slightest flicker of a smile at the corners of lips.

Wolfgar stared at him intently and then threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘By the gods you and I shall have a game of insults some night. You strike me as a civilized man who knows something beyond half a dozen of the crudest words which any idiot can let dribble out of his face.’

‘An honour,’ Asayaga replied. ‘But the name is Asayaga, not Ass-you.’ The flicker of a smile had disappeared and he spoke the words with intensity.

Wolfgar nodded and said nothing. Finally he leant over and reached into the marmot to pull out a piece of meat. His gesture elicited a scattering of applause from the men who had been watching the interchange.

‘Daughters!’ Wolfgar cried, changing the subject and waving expansively to the men gathered around the table. ‘Take your choice of one of these. Better breeding-stock than what was stabled here before. One of them might be man enough to put up with your evil tempers and barbed tongues.’

Alyssa laughed coyly and lowered her eyes, raising them again for a second to gaze at Asayaga. Dennis, noticing the exchange of glances, muttered into his cup and then gazed straight ahead.

‘Virginity is preferable,’ Roxanne replied coolly, hands resting on her slender hips.

Wolfgar, laughing, picked up a flagon and handed it back to her and she took it, drained what was left and then tossed it aside. Then the flicker of a smile creased her face, and Wolfgar reached up and patted her on the cheek.

‘You always did have more of my blood in you than your mother’s.’

‘Look out for her, Hartraft,’ Wolfgar announced. ‘She can drop a stag on the run at fifty paces with her bow, or with her bare hands claw out the eyes of a man who tries to touch her!’

Asayaga looked at Roxanne intently, but her gaze was not on him; rather it was fixed appraisingly on Dennis, who did not seem to notice her, his attention fixed suddenly on the far corner of the room. Dennis nodded to Asayaga and made a subtle hand gesture.

Asayaga looked around and saw that Sugama and his companions were in a small knot around one of the tapped kegs of beer. As they spoke one of them kept looking back over his shoulder at several Kingdom soldiers who were eyeing them with equal distrust. Words were being exchanged by both groups: it was obvious that both sides were half-drunk, and insulting each other in their own tongues. Then one of the Kingdom soldiers stood up, fists clenched, and men to either side began to back up.

What happened next caught Asayaga completely by surprise. From the corner of his eye he saw Roxanne reach down behind her father’s chair and then stand back up a few seconds later with a crossbow. She shouldered the weapon, aimed it and squeezed the trigger.

The bolt hissed across the room, brushing past the Kingdom soldier and buried itself in the side of the keg not a hand’s-span away from Sugama.

The hall fell instantly silent, everyone looking from the quivering bolt and then to Roxanne.

‘In my father’s hall,’ she said coldly, ‘there is no brawling. Take it outside: I hate cleaning spilled blood off the table I must eat from.’

The silence reigned for several long seconds. Alwin Barry, still sitting by Tasemu’s side, stood up, raised his flagon to Roxanne and then drained it. Putting the flagon back down he began to laugh, a soft chuckle at first, shaking his head as the laughter built. Tasemu, following Alwin’s gesture, stood and did likewise, the two laughing together until finally they were slapping each other on the back, pointing at Roxanne and then to the thoroughly discomfited knot of men around the keg. Within seconds the entire hall was roaring.

Roxanne looked around the room and then with a gesture of disdain, placed the front of the crossbow on the floor, recocked it, loaded another bolt in and slipped the weapon back under the seat. This gesture caused a redoubling of laughter and finally, looking a bit irritated, she stalked out of the hall.

‘Ahh, that’s my blood!’ Wolfgar roared. ‘That’s the type of women I can sire. By all the gods, I can still do it, I can, if only I could find a wench blind enough to let me!’

His comment caused a hearty round of toasts and cheers, Asayaga translating the boast to one of the soldiers sitting by his side so that it shot around the room, the laughter increasing as it spread to the other Tsurani. The few women in the room were also laughing, shaking their heads and holding their hands up in mock horror.

Wolfgar stood up, and with a groan somehow managed to step up on to the feasting table, knocking over a platter of meat. Raising his feasting cup, he drained it to the dregs, tossed it aside and slowly walked down the length of the table, acknowledging the upraised flagons and goblets and the lusty cheers of the men. A number of the Kingdom troops started into an obscene ditty about a blacksmith who had five daughters, and the fate that befell each of their midnight visitors who were dragged out to face the hot tongs and anvil. The Tsurani were singing as well. Somehow they had understood the nature of Wolfgar’s boasting, and Asayaga was intrigued that the song they started to sing in counterpoint had almost the identical plot.

Finally Wolfgar held out his hands for the men to be silent and the room fell quiet. As he stood the years seemed to fall from his shoulders. Dennis watched with approval, knowing that before them stood one of the Kingdom’s finest singers of sagas, even if he was a reprobate, liar, and thief.

Softly at first, but with firm control, the old man began a very old song:

‘ Fare thee well, my sweet Kingdom lassie , Fare thee well, and I bid you goodbye , For I’m off with the dawning to cold northern mountains , Off to the north, where for King shall I die …’

Dennis sat back and looked over at Asayaga, who seemed intrigued by the old song of a soldier knowing he was sent to face the Dark Brothers in a campaign doomed from the start. Dennis closed his eyes and remembered when he had first heard the song as a boy. He had sat by his father’s side, silently listening to Wolfgar, while tears had flowed unchecked down his cheeks. The song was about duty, honour, and sacrifice, and Dennis wondered at Wolfgar’s choice. For if any Kingdom men were doomed to the fate of the hero of that song, it was the men in this room.

Asayaga saw Dennis’s expression, and realized the song had some meaning for him. He listened to the story in the song, ignoring its odd rhythm and strange tonal qualities. The story was heroic, about a man who put honour above common sense. Asayaga was torn, because on one hand, it was a very Tsurani attitude, yet on the other, no Tsurani would even raise the question of failure and debate it, even within himself. To die for honour was a great thing.