The marmots came last, stuffed and roasted in the manner the Tsurani adored, and though most of the Kingdom troops turned up their noses at this fare the Tsurani cried out with joy, and friendly squabbles broke out over who had the honour of consuming the hearts and livers.
More platters were spread out upon the table, laden with dried fruits, roasted potatoes, half a dozen different kinds of bread and even boiled eggs which the men greedily devoured.
At first Wolfgar had been tight-fisted with his drink but as the room heated up with the scent of cooked meat and warm bodies he finally relented and called for extra kegs of beer to be brought in and tapped. Foaming goblets, drinking horns, and leather flagons were quickly filled and passed around to eager hands, the men laughing and cheering, downing the frothy brew and leaning back to belch with comfortable delight.
As appropriate for such an occasion Dennis and Asayaga sat at one end of the long table, with Wolfgar between them, the scrunched-up old bard watching the proceedings with a jaundiced eye, mumbling about the expense, the noise, and the alien smell of the Tsurani. But after several beers he began to relax as well, and even accepted a platter of boar’s ribs which one of the young women who had mysteriously appeared shortly after dawn personally brought to his side.
‘Thank you, daughter,’ he whispered, reaching up to stroke her cheek as she put the plate before him.
Asayaga had noticed her within minutes after awaking in the morning. She was short for her race, nearly at his own eye-level, but that was the only aspect that might make him think she was a woman of his homeland. Her hair was blonde, the palest of blondes so that her long twin braids seemed like cascades of spun gold thread. Such hair was not unknown in his homeland, but far to the north of Coltair province, and rarely seen in his home city. Her figure was full, the tightness of her calf-length leather dress sufficient to show off every detail. Her eyes were a shimmering blue and her skin a soft delicate pink.
‘Daughter?’ Dennis asked, putting down his flagon of beer and staring straight at her.
Wolfgar laughed, a warm and lascivious grin wrinkling his pitted and leathery face. ‘Ahh, not my grand-daughter, or great-grand-daughter, though I’ll wager there’s more than one of them around.’ He reached out affectionately and pulled her to his side and the young woman planted a warm kiss on the top of his balding head. ‘Her mother, may she rest in the Blessed Lands, she was a rare lass. Two of them she bore for me. Alyssa here, who will break any man’s heart with a glance is the oldest.’
Asayaga immediately rose, his gaze locked on hers and bowed formally. ‘I am honoured to meet the daughter of our generous host,’ he said. ‘My sword will always be at your service.’
Dennis, watching Asayaga’s show, rose and stepped between the Tsurani captain and Alyssa. ‘Your father was always an honoured guest in my family’s keep. A daughter of his shall always have my protection.’
‘Protection?’ Wolfgar laughed. ‘I think the two of you need protection from her.’
Alyssa blushed but there was a light in her eyes as she stepped back slightly and looked from one captain to the other. ‘My father shames me,’ she said, and her voice was soft and whispery. ‘I thank you, Dennis Hartraft, for the kindness of your protection and you too, Asayaga of the Tsurani. I must retire to see to the serving of the food.’
‘All is well tended to,’ Wolfgar laughed, ‘come sit by my side, it’s safe here,’ and he slapped the side of his wide chair and slid over.
Alyssa demurely sat down on the side closer to Dennis.
‘Roxanne, join us!’ Wolfgar cried, looking back over his shoulder.
Asayaga was startled to see the second daughter standing behind her father’s feasting chair. When she had appeared was a mystery, and even now she was barely visible, standing in the dark shadows.
This one had the same hair as Alyssa but was taller and she had a lean, muscular look to her bare arms, and high-cheekboned face. Like her sister she wore a simple leather dress of calf length, the only feminine vanity to it a pale blue scarf tied around the waist as a belt, revealing just the slightest of curves beneath.
She didn’t move at her father’s call but simply folded her arms. ‘I prefer to remain standing,’ she replied, her voice deep and clear.
‘I told her you think the men are dead,’ Wolfgar said, looking over at Dennis. He lowered his voice. ‘The one she had a preference for was one of them.’
‘He meant nothing to me,’ she replied, ‘other than his friendship.’
Wolfgar threw a dark look over his shoulder at his daughter, then raised his voice. ‘Pimply-faced, with the brain of a drunken hare. Typical of her mother’s kin, and like a hare always fumbling after her. I was half-contemplating killing him myself.’
‘As if you’re an example of model behaviour,’ Roxanne replied coolly, and Wolfgar laughed at her response.
‘Roxanne, named after her mother,’ Wolfgar said, nodding back. ‘She took the name because her mother died giving her life.’
Again Asayaga stood, bowed and offered his formal greeting as did Dennis. Roxanne accepted both without comment.
Sitting back down, Asayaga found his gaze lingering on Alyssa who was leaning over and whispering something into her father’s ear. He laughed uproariously and slapped her on the thigh.
Mindful again of his duty, Asayaga tore his attention away from her charms and carefully gazed around the room, chiding himself for his momentary lapse before the barbarian and his daughter. Too many years in the field, he thought. Too many months since last he had known a woman.
He studied the condition of his men. Almost all them were still concentrating on gorging themselves, hands reaching for food and drink. The noise was slowly rising, conversations starting, punctuated by ripples of laughter. In places he saw where Kingdom troops and his own were even trying to talk to one another. He caught a glimpse of two soldiers moving their hands about in pantomime and from their gestures he guessed they were talking about women. One of them laughed as the other, grinning, made a universal gesture.
He caught Tasemu’s eye. The Strike Leader was at the far end of the table, flagon in hand, leaning back, watching carefully. Interestingly, the Kingdom sergeant – whose name he had learned was Barry, sat beside Tasemu, flagon in hand as well, the two of them almost like mirror-images of each other. Both were doing their jobs, silently watching. Barry nudged Tasemu and nodded to where several Tsurani seemed to be in a heated argument. In fact they were debating the merits of who was the best wrestler in the army. Tasemu merely grunted and smiled, the gesture enough to reassure Barry.
To one side Asayaga saw Sugama who was eating quietly, delicately, carefully taking each piece of fish with only his thumb and forefinger in the proper noble manner, while talking quietly with a few of Asayaga’s men. Asayaga felt a moment’s disquiet. In only a few days could this minor son of a rival house have gained a following? He studied the faces of the four men who were with him and realized that all were younger sons and brothers, men whose destiny was to linger as soldiers in a minor house until they were granted leave to wed and start families, living on a small parcel of land granted them by the Lord of the Tondora. It was just this sort of man who might be lured to betray his oath for promises of a higher station through adoption into a new house.
Then when Sugama turned to take an offered flagon of ale from one of the local boys, two of Asayaga’s men exchanged a smirk and a silently-mouthed word, and Asayaga realized they were mocking Sugama behind his back, enduring his company for the sake of entertainment. Asayaga let out a silent sigh and allowed the tension to flow from his body. Even here, as remote as any Tsurani had ever been from the Empire, he worried over the Great Game