Chapter 11|The Dance
The sizzling meat popped and spattered grease into the campfire. Hungry flames leapt up to engulf the squirrel carcass. Shanis cursed and grabbed the skewer, lifting it high before it scorched. She turned the meat slowly, getting it just right before propping it back on the forked stick she had driven into the ground next to the fire ring. She checked the two others that were roasting, making sure they were not too close. Certain their dinner was now safe, she returned to skinning the last squirrel.
“I told them we needed to wait until we had some good coals to cook over,” she muttered. “That’s what I get for giving in to Khalyndryn’s complaining.”
“Smells good,” Larris said, walking over to stand beside her. “Perhaps you should do all the cooking.”
She rolled her eyes but did not reply to the young man’s weak jest. Could he not leave her alone?
“Allyn says you’re quite the huntress,” Larris said, moving to sit facing her across the fire. “He says you move as quietly in the woods as he does. That is high praise from him, I promise you. He thinks everyone else sounds like a drunken bull moving through the forest.”
“I’ll be certain to thank him then,” Shanis said. They had ridden with their new companions for two days now, and she was still uncomfortable with Larris. She had joined Allyn on his evening hunting excursions primarily to get away from Larris’ prying questions. Allyn, by contrast, said little. And, truth be known, she had developed quite a fascination with the quiet young man. She admired his woodscraft, and he respected hers in turn. The few words he said to her were compliments regarding her tracking skills or her ability to move silently in the woods. This evening, he allowed her to use his bow, and she had surprised him by bringing down both squirrels with precise shots to the head, thus preserving the meaty parts. Her father had taught her well, though she certainly was nowhere near Allyn’s equal.
She wondered what Larris would think if he knew that Shanis had tried to extend her trek through the forest with Allyn today, asking questions about plant names or pretending to not recognize a particular track, just to stay away from Larris as long as possible. Of course, a small part of her had also wanted to spend more time with Allyn.
“Why don’t you go discuss books with Oskar?” she asked as she dragged her knife across the last squirrel’s abdomen with unnecessary vigor. During their daily rides, Oskar and Larris had developed the beginnings of a friendship based on their mutual love of books, and they spoke of little else.
“You enjoy our tale swapping, do you?” Larris asked. His smile was flawless, and she hated him all the more for it. “I would be happy to share some more stories with you if you like.”
“To be quite truthful,” Shanis said, looking directly at him for the first time since he sat down, “I find almost every one of them most tedious.”
“Tedious?” Larris’ eyes opened wide as he spoke.
“Tedious,” she said again. “Tiresome, monotonous, boring; shall I go on?”
“Forgive me,” he said. “I was not aware that you were familiar with that word.”
Shanis fixed him with what she hoped was a look of unadulterated disgust. She flipped over the squirrel carcass, scooped out the entrails with a deft twist of her knife, and tossed them at Larris. The gooey mass struck him on the chest, and slowly slid down the front of his silk doublet.
Larris looked down at the sticky heap of organs in surprise, but instead of being angry, he burst out laughing; a hearty, deep laugh that made him seem almost sincere. He plucked them off of his clothing with two fingers, and tossed them into the fire, where they crackled and hissed.
Shanis skewered the last tree rat, as her father called them, and positioned it over the fire. She sat down to keep watch on the meal, pointedly turning her attention away from Larris. It did no good.
The young man scooted up to sit on her right side. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, linking his fingers together. He sat that way, rocking back and forth, still smiling over the innards incident.
“You said you hated almost all of them.”
Shanis took a deep breath, and breathed out slowly and noisily. “Some of them serve to pass the time,” she admitted. Perhaps he would leave her alone if he got something positive out of her.
“Which ones?” he asked. He leaned toward her ever so slightly. She scooted away. If he noticed, he didn’t let on. “Honestly, which ones do you like the most?”
“The ones where the pushy young man gets killed,” she snapped. That gave him pause. He stared at her, mouth slightly agape, seemingly trying to decide if she was joking or not. Burn it all! Why did she feel guilty now? “You never answered my question,” she said, trying to change the subject. “Why don’t you go find Oskar?”
“Allyn took him into the forest to find a solid limb to make a quarterstaff.”
“What’s he going to do?” Shanis asked, looking at Larris with raised eyebrows. “String books along it and carry it over his shoulders like a yoke?”
Larris laughed and clasped her shoulder. Shanis laughed too, in spite of her discomfort.
“Allyn was showing him a few moves with his own staff. He thinks Oskar might be an apt pupil. Allyn says the lad has strong arms and quick wrists.”
“Too bad his hands are so slow,” Shanis deadpanned.
Larris laughed even harder at this.
Shanis stood and checked the meat before he could touch her shoulder again.
“Someone should tell the happy couple that it’s almost time to eat,” she said, looking around for Hierm and Khalyndryn. The young man was already chafing at having to pretend to be Khalyndryn’s intended. For her part, Khalyndryn was taking full advantage, fawning over him worse than she ever had at home. Just then, the two of them walked up, arm-in-arm.
“Looking for us?” Khalyndryn cooed. She smiled sweetly, and batted her eyes at Larris, who bowed in an exaggerated, mocking fashion. The sarcasm was lost on Khalyndryn, who squeezed Hierm’s arm in both hands and bounced excitedly on her toes. “Larris is such a gentleman, Hierm. He could teach you how to treat a lady.”
Hierm grunted and shook loose of her grasp. He sat down next to Shanis and stared at the fire. Shanis wanted to laugh, but she was too worried that Khalyndryn might spoil their charade with her flirting.
“I think you should be more appreciative of your intended,” Shanis said, looking Khalyndryn directly in the eye.
“I am not accustomed,” Khalyndryn said, her voice lofty, “to taking suggestions from a servant girl.” Folding her hands across her chest, she tossed her head and made a “humph” sound.
Before she realized what she was doing, Shanis went down one knee and felt her hand close around a large, smooth pebble. Its cool, unblemished surface felt just right in her hand. It would serve Khalyndryn right if Shanis bounced the stone off of her forehead. That, however, would be most un-servant like. Quickly gaining control of herself, she dropped the pebble and drew her knife from its belt sheath.
Khalyndryn gasped and took a small step backward. Her creamy complexion paled to a stark white. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, slumping to the ground to sit next to Hierm. The concern in her green eyes made it sound more like a question than a statement.
“Wouldn’t cut bread?” Shanis asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. She picked up the small loaf of bread Larris had provided, and proceeded to cut off thick chunks and pass them out. Larris sliced up a hard cheese from his pack, and handed that around as well.
Oskar and Allyn soon returned from their trek into the forest, Oskar proudly sporting a length of wood for a new staff. Shanis smiled at the excitement evident in the youth’s broad face. Growing up an aspiring scholar in a town where a young man was expected to learn to hunt, farm and fight had not earned him a great deal of respect from his peers. Likely, Oskar would take great pride in developing a fighting skill of his own.
“Sit beside me, A
llyn,” Khalyndryn said, patting the ground ton her left. The blond woodsman shrugged and dropped to the ground.
“Can I help?” Oskar asked Shanis.
“Get the squirrels off the skewers. Start with the ones on the left. They’ve been over the fire the longest.” Oskar complied, and soon, they were all feasting on bread, cheese, and roast squirrel.
“It’s tough on the outside and raw on the inside,” Khalyndryn complained, biting into a chunk of meat. Shanis was about to curse the girl roundly when Allyn intervened.
“You know the camp rule, don’t you?” he asked. Seeing the blank expression on Khalyndryn’s face, he continued. “Whoever complains about the cooking prepares the next day’s meals.”
“Oh,” the girl said, turning to Shanis. “I’m sure you did the best you could.” She returned to her meal, an obvious expression of distaste marring her lovely face. Around the fire, choked sounds of suppressed laughter sprang up. Even Hierm was fighting to keep his tight-lipped grin in place.
“I, for one,” Larris said, regaining control of himself, “think this is fine cooking. You could apprentice in the kitchen of one of the larger houses or inns.”
“What? Work in a kitchen?” Shanis sprang to her feet. “What are you saying? You think I can’t handle a sword?”
Larris had gone too far this time, and he seemed to know it. “I did not say that,” he said evenly. His bronze face was pale under the heat of her stare. “I was trying to pay you a compliment.”
Shanis felt embarrassed, but she did not want to back down from the pushy young man. “I don’t need your compliments, thank you very much.” She stalked away as quickly as dignity would permit. Would she never learn to control her temper? No wonder Master Yurg had always been so hard on her.
Thoughts of Yurg led to thoughts of home, and with them, a wave of homesickness. Where was her father right now? Had he gone looking for her? Who was caring for her horse? Her eyes misted, and she stumbled in the fast-dimming light of evening. A hand caught her by the upper arm and lifted her up.
“It’s all right,” Hierm said, steadying her. His eyes searched hers. “What can I do?” He moved to put his arms around her, but she drew back quickly.
“You’re betrothed, remember?” she whispered. “I’m fine. Just a little tired and homesick.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Thanks.” She heard a rustling behind Hierm, turned and rolled her eyes as she saw Larris approaching. Silhouetted against the distant campfire, the young merchant looked vaguely wraithlike in the twilight. Or perhaps the sinister characterization was merely a product of her discomfort with him.
“May I speak with you?” he asked. “Please?”
Hierm looked from Shanis to Larris, then back at Shanis, his eyebrow arched. After a moment’s thought, she nodded. Hierm threw a brief, challenging stare at Larris, holding his gaze for several heartbeats, before returning to the campfire.
“You have an interesting relationship with your employer,” Larris mused. His expression betrayed nothing, but there was a touch of suspicion in his tone. Before Shanis could answer, he raised his hands in front of him, as if to ward her off. “I know. I’ve yet again managed to offend you.” He took a deep breath, and looked up at the leafy branches that drooped just above their heads.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” she snapped. She didn’t like being alone with Larris. She wasn’t frightened of him, exactly. She was more concerned that she would let something important slip in the midst of his constant interrogation. She folded her hands across her chest, tapped her foot, and tried to imitate the face she had seen Mistress Anna make when Papa and Master Yurg came home after too long an evening in Master Serrill’s common room.
“If we are going to be traveling together, you and I might as well find a way to get along with one another.” He said it firmly, as if there were nothing else to discuss.
“I know Oskar likes traveling with you, as does Khalyndryn.” She couldn’t speak for Hierm, and her feelings were well known. She spoke slowly, careful not to speak in haste, as she often did. Near the campfire, a clacking sound arose: Allyn and Oskar practicing their quarterstaffs. “It’s certainly safer for us all to be together,” she added, thinking of the cat creatures. “Why isn’t that enough?”
“Because I don’t want any more evenings like this,” he said. “We are traveling companions. What can I do, beyond what I have already done, to help us peacefully coexist?”
“Not speaking to one another comes immediately to mind,” she said.
“No good,” he replied, smiling, “I like to talk too much.” He looked down at her waist, his eyes narrowing. She was about to smack the grin off of his face when he looked back up at her and grinned.
“How good are you with that sword of yours, anyway?” he asked slyly.
“Half again as good as you,” she said, taking a step toward him. She was almost of a height with the tall young man, and she met his gaze resolutely.
“Perhaps I can persuade you otherwise,” he said. He turned sideways and motioned back toward the campfire, moving into step behind her as she passed him by. Retrieving their swords, they squared off in the clearing. Allyn and Oskar broke from their practice, watching with interest.
They crossed blades, tentatively at first, then with greater intensity. Her earlier impression of Larris was correct; he was a fine swordsman. He flowed through the forms with the grace of a dancer, smiling broadly all the while. The smile only made her want to beat him all the more, and she poured everything into the attack. Her anger, her guilt, her homesickness, her loneliness, her suspicion, her fear, her hurts all flowed through her blade as it whistled its deadly song. Blows rained down in torrents upon Larris’ defenses. No longer smiling, the boy gave ground grudgingly. Blow by blow, with all the precision of a blacksmith working a chunk of iron, she beat him back until Allyn stepped in.
“Hold!” the hunter called, pulling her away. “Put your sword away. I think I can find something more suitable.”
Shanis was surprised to find that her anger was gone. She felt emptied, and in a strange way, cleansed. She had missed this. The sword had been a part of her life for so long that it felt like an important part of her.
The young woodsman vanished into the forest, returning a short while later with bundles of long, springy branches lashed together in bundles which roughly approximated the length and weight of practice swords. He had fashioned four of the makeshift swords: one each for Shanis, Larris, Hierm, and himself.
“A little safer,” he explained, “though you can still leave a lovely bruise on your opponent.”
Hierm initially declined to take part. Shanis tried to convince him, but to no avail. With a shrug, she turned to Allyn.
“What do you say, hunter boy? Do you want to try me?” she taunted, grinning broadly.
“Been dying to.” With a wicked grin, he raised his “sword” to his forehead in a mock-salute, and assumed the ready position. Shanis dispensed with the niceties, and sent a lightning-quick thrust at his throat. Allyn deflected her attack with an economy of movement, and slashed back at her with a deft flick of the wrist. Shanis parried, and battered his defenses with a sweeping backhand.
The two were well-matched. Each had quick reflexes and moved well. Their reach was almost equal as well. They traded blows for what seemed like hours, laughing and playfully taunting one another all the while.
It did not take long before the clack of the imitation swords drew Hierm out of his shell. He joined in, squaring of first against Larris, then Allyn. Oskar and Khalyndryn enjoyed the display as well, alternately cheering and jeering the combatants. The duels continued late into the evening, long after they should have taken to bed. When fatigue finally overcame them, they lay around the fire, sharing wine from a skin Larris produced from his saddlebag. All of the previous tension had been wrung out of the small group of travelers.
“Fine blade work for a merchant’s son and his hired hand,” Larris
said, offering his hand to Shanis. She stared at him for a moment before clasping it in hers.
“I suppose,” she said, “we’ve found something in common.”