The Fire and the Fog (15 page)

With the betting done, and all the players
still in the game, the fifth card was turned. The table showed two
crosses, a king, a queen, and a seven. It was a good lay, but it
left Dan’r’s paired tens in a rather bad spot. He decided he
wouldn’t risk any more, not with nothing more than copper showing
on the table anyway.

The toothless man seemed to agree with him,
shaking his head and waving his hand in the air over the table,
indicating a pass. The stone-faced giant beside him simply shook
his head once, and left it at that. He had yet to do anything but
shake or nod his head, and the lack of any spoken words was
starting to unnerve Dan’r.

‘All yours, friend’ he said to the angry man
next to him, and he reached to drink from his mug. He started to
down the remainder of his beer, but almost choked on the dregs as
the balding man grinned, pulled his hand out of his purse, and
casually flipped a silver mark onto the table.

A silver mark. Fourteen hundred copper
pennies. Enough to get every man in the bar drunk twice over, at
least. It was about what an average worker made in a month’s work,
and much more than should ever appear in a rush game at a tavern.
Dan’r had been hoping to see a few copper marks, maybe a silver
half at the most. The game had just gotten much more
interesting.

Dan’r's hands were already moving as the
other three men at the table stood in anger, cursing. He dropped
one of the tens in his hand to the straw-covered floor as he
reached into his cloak, covering the card swiftly with one booted
foot.

‘What’re you trying to pull, bastard’ the
toothless man spat as he banged his fists on the table, and Dan’r
grinned as his fingers touched paper in one of his cloak pockets.
The toothless man was no longer grinning contentedly he thought as
he grabbed at another paper in another cloak pocket. Money on the
table, real money rather than just petty coppers, and raised
tempers around the table were starting to attract attention from
the rest of the tavern. Between the attention, the tempers, and the
money, Dan’r had the feeling he was about to enjoy himself
tremendously.

‘I’m just taking all yer money’ the balding
man shrugged as he leaned forward to grab at the coins. His hands
were in the copper, about to start raking it in, when the large,
tan man leaned in and put a fist on the table.

‘No’ was all he said, and it was all he had
to say. The balding man’s hands stopped, and Dan’r grinned even
more.

The table almost didn’t notice when Dan’r
pulled a silver mark and the cards from his cloak, and placed them
face-up on the table. His ten and duke, with the king, queen, and
cross already in the lay, gave him one of the best hands in rush,
and his silver mark matched the balding man.

The balding man had tried to play them all,
betting higher than any of them would be able to match in order to
take the game, but Dan’r had trumped him, and the table stared as
he stood and started to collect his winnings.

‘Thank you kindly, friend, but I believe
that’s mine’ he said, wondering who would throw first. The money
didn’t matter to Dan’r. Even the game didn’t really matter, he was
perfectly content winning or losing. What was about to come,
though, what was about to come was what he lived for, nowadays.

Dan’r’s hands had barely reached the pile of
money when the short, balding man on his left swung angrily. He
threw a right cross at Dan’r’s face, yelling as he leaned into his
punch.

Dan’r knocked the punch aside with his left
forearm, then calmly slid off his chair and in towards his
attacker, swinging his right fist in a wide arc. The clay mug he
had been drinking from shattered against the front of the balding
man’s head, and the earthware shards landed on the man as he fell
hard to the ground.

The calls of ‘Fight!’ and the noise of
further violence starting sounded as Dan’r turned to face the rest
of his erstwhile competitors. Shaved-head and gap-tooth had grabbed
what coin they could from the table and were in the process of
melting into the jostling crowd of onlookers, but the large, silent
man seemed to have gone into some sort of fury.

Stone-face was no longer stone-faced. His
head was red and his teeth were bared in an angry snarl, his
shoulders heaving up and down in time with his heavy breathing. The
quick change from pure calm to pure rage surprised Dan’r, as did
the man’s size. He was significantly taller than Dan’r when
standing, at least two heads taller, and his large muscles bulged
as he worked himself into a frenzy.

Dan’r had just set himself, feet wide apart
and arms at the ready, when rage-face grabbed the lip of the table
and roared, heaving the table end over end towards Dan’r.

Dan’r quickly ducked under the flipping
table, the tabletop passing just over his head as he used one hand
to support his low, almost sliding lope under the table and closer
to the giant.

The large man was already reaching both arms
out towards Dan’r, intent on grabbing him, when Dan’r rolled under
the table. Jumping up quickly from his crouch, Dan’r heard the
table smash into the watching crowd behind him. He ignored the
sounds; he had more pressing matters, giant pressing matters, in
front of him.

Dan’r reached out with his left hand as he
straightened quickly from his crouch, sliding into a half pull-up,
half jump as he grabbed the large man’s arm to use as leverage. He
planted one foot on the man’s thigh and stood, now two hands taller
than the man, as his foe’s arms started to close around him.

‘Sorry, friend’ Dan’r apologized, probably
unheard over the din of the tavern, then he drove his right fist
hard into the large man’s neck, crushing his windpipe. The giant
tumbled backwards to the ground, Dan’r still hanging on top of
him.

‘This is going well,’ Dan’r thought as he
shifted forward and tucked in, rolling with the momentum as the
limp body under him hit the floor. All of the men at his table were
either unconscious or gone, and the brawl had barely started. ‘Take
down three or four more, then slip out the door.’ He thought as he
rolled into a crouch by the wall, putting a hand against it to stop
his roll and steady himself.

He was about to stand when a chair hit him
hard in the back, just moments before his face slammed into the
tavern’s hard, wooden wall. He didn’t even have time to curse
before the inky black of unconsciousness swept over him.

***

They were finally married, Dan’r thought as
he lay in bed, his arms wrapped around his wife. It was their
wedding night, and he and Maeglin lay naked under the stars, satin
swathes of moonlight streaming in through the broad glazed windows
to light their night.

The moonlight had seemed to dance a slow,
watery waltz off them as they moved in another sort of dance, and
now it continued to shimmer restlessly as they lay entwined,
resting.

‘She is beautiful, and she is mine.’ Dan’r
thought as he stroked Maeglin’s soft, long hair. She was beautiful.
She had a thin nose and full lips, blue eyes and light brown hair,
and her neck was long and graceful. He loved every part of her he
thought as he kissed her forehead softly, then untangled himself
slowly from her drowsing form and left the bed to stand by the
window.

He stood naked in the window, and left
Maeglin to sleep a minute. It had been an exhausting day for her,
and the beginnings of the night had been exhausting for them both,
though the night was not nearly over. The night was just beginning,
and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

He stared out at the sea as he stood in the
window. The length of the shimmering moon reflected in the calm
ocean waters, just as it had reflected off him and his wife
earlier. He had never really thought of the moon before, but at
this moment he thought it almost as perfect as his wife.

He could barely believe it as he threw open
the tall window and breathed deep the cool, refreshing salt air.
Tomorrow they would set sail on one of her fathers’ boats, skirting
the million islands before heading for their honeymoon on Kol.

Thinking of her fathers’ boat reminded him of
her father, his father now. He was one of Char’Nath’s lords, and
even as a minor lord, he was one of the more important people in
Alta. He had been against a marriage since the moment Dan’r and
Maeglin first met, years ago. No way would the daughter of a lord
and the middle son of a middling merchant marry. He said often the
two should never have met, even as Dan’r continued his attempts to
court Maeglin.

Then Dan’r found his Talent. He became an
Artist, a Painter, and Maeglin’s father welcomed him with open
arms. In fact, once he became a Painter, it seemed they could not
be married fast enough for Maeglin’s father, which suited Dan’r and
Maeglin fine.

Dan’r chuckled to himself. He had been
married to a beautiful woman, into a powerful, rich house, and he
was an Artist. The gods must be smiling on him.

Then he felt his wife’s arms wrap around his
chest, her breasts pressing lightly into his back as she brushed
the back of his neck with a kiss.

‘Come back to bed’ she breathed into his
back, between his shoulder blades, and he smiled as he turned to
face her.

‘Yes, my wife’ he said, and he lifted her
into the air. She wrapped her legs around his back and straddled
him as he kissed her collarbone and carried her back to the
bed.

‘Yes’, Dan’r thought as he lay her down once
more, ‘the gods must surely be smiling me.’

***

‘Zhe God’s hade me’ Dan’r muttered fuzzily as
he woke, groaning, from a splitting headache. He was lying in a
pile of refuse, where the tavern bouncers must have thrown him
after he was knocked out. He would have to speak to the tavern
owner about that. That back wall was entirely too hard, it really
needed padding.

He grunted as he struggled to his feet and
began checking his cloak pockets. Everything that mattered was
there. He was lucky. He was missing the silver marks from the game,
but those were irrelevant. Reaching for one of his cloak pockets,
his fingers touched paper.

Dan’r pulled out a full wineskin from under
his cloak, uncorked it, and drank deeply. It was still dark out,
and if he got drunk enough, quickly enough, he may still be able to
get some sleep. He could move to a more suitable location, get
drunk, sleep, and maybe even get rid of the pain in his head.

Dan’r stumbled a few paces down the alleyway,
just far enough to be past the refuse heap he had been lying in,
and sat down against a part of the wall that looked no cleaner than
the rest. He was not in a garbage pile, and that was good enough he
thought, and he drank deeply until the wineskin was empty, then
reached into his cloak for another.

Midway through the second skein sleep took
him again.

***

The dream; his dream; his nightmare, began
again right where it left off. A part of him, that one sober,
conscious part of him that always fritted on the edge of his
dreams, wished it would end. It never did.

‘Come back to bed’ she breathed into his
back, between his shoulder blades, and he smiled as he turned to
face her. He knew he should be crying.

‘Yes, my wife’ he said, and he lifted her
into the air. She wrapped her legs around his back and straddled
him as he kissed her collarbone and carried her back to the
bed.

‘Yes’, Dan’r thought as he lay her down once
more, ‘the gods must surely be smiling me.’

It was a restless, exhausting night, and as
the sun rose over the horizon, Dan’r and Maeglin reluctantly
slept.

Several hours later, early in the afternoon,
the time of the day when the sun beats down heaviest upon the
world, the two stood at the rail of a wide boat. Arm and arm, they
waved to the family they were leaving behind on the shore. None of
Dan’r’s blood family was there, but that could not be helped.
Still, he supposed as he gave up waving to the specks in the
distance, those specks were his family now. He had a wife, and a
family again. And soon he and his wife would have a family of their
own.

Dan’r promised himself he would be a better
father to his children than his father ever was.

The boat was called The Kingfisher. It was a
wide boat, and it wallowed slowly through the water, but its thick
mainmast and billowing sails gave it an air of sturdiness that
Dan’r appreciated. Besides, he thought as he turned to his beaming
wife, who had just let down her waving hand, they had nothing else
if not time. They had allowed themselves two months of honeymoon,
and even when they returned, neither would need, nor be expected,
to work. They could spend the rest of their lives in each other’s
arms, without a care in the world.

The couple had eyes only for each other as
they turned and, arm in arm, gazed with barely concealed longing at
each other. As far as they could care, they were alone on the boat,
drifting slowly through the waters on a ship that sailed
itself.

There were sailors of course, climbing
through the rigging and running over the well-polished deck,
hauling in the long oars and setting the billowing sails. There was
a Captain as well, bellowing out orders to his crew. Behind them
all, in the background, watching as always, was Om’bh, Dan’r’s
watcher. He was always there, and had been since Dan’r came into
his Art. But Dan’r had learnt to ignore him. As the world spun
slowly around the couple, they might as well have been standing
alone on the water, nothing but blue sea to be seen in any
direction.

‘We have two days of sailing before we reach
our first stop, love’ Dan’r said eventually, basking in the warmth
and glory of his marriage.

‘Oh no!’ his wife started, mockingly placing
her small hands on her delicate lips and opening her eyes wide.
‘Whatever shall we do?’