Part 37 (2/2)
Urkiat was clothed in an immaculate khirta and wore a headband of gold-painted leather. He held a wooden sword, also painted gold. Darak was still waiting for Thikia to finish his costume, but his ridiculous ”club” looked suspiciously similar to the ones Bo and Bep wielded.
They were the comical performers, juggling everything from fruit and b.a.l.l.s to wine flasks and jugs. When a play called for an animal, they donned fleece or fur and crawled about on all fours. They engaged in mock battles with snakelike sacks of grain that they waggled lewdly at each other.
”I'm sure your club won't waggle half as much,” Urkiat a.s.sured him earnestly.
Although Bo and Bep were ostensibly twins, they shared little in common save for their diminutive stature. Bo was Zherosi-dark, while Bep was fair-haired and blue-eyed. Bo was as sweet-natured as Bep was sullen. But it was Bep who coached Urkiat on lunges and thrusts, all designed to look terribly menacing without doing any harm. Nevertheless, Darak's ribs were bruised after the first practice session and Urkiat nearly incoherent with apologies.
”Doesn't matter,” Darak said, repressing a wince as Thikia slapped a poultice on his side. ”I just have to sidestep faster. We'll try it again-on the morrow.”
Only Rizhi was immune from the chaffing-good-natured and ill-of the others. Even Bep treated her with surprising tenderness, helping her on and off the cart, refilling her bowl at mealtimes, and s.h.i.+elding her from the boys who crowded around her after a performance. Although Darak couldn't understand most of her songs, her clear, sweet voice could move an audience to tears during a ballad, while her wicked smile made them roar with approval at what he a.s.sumed were bawdy songs.
Darak was shocked to learn that her parents had sold her to Olinio last autumn. She seemed perfectly happy with the troupe, making him wonder what kind of a life she had known before-and what kind of parents would sell their child.
By the third day of their journey, the roads were packed with people heading for Pilozhat. Every performance was crowded with folk eager for some respite from the monotony of travel. Olinio announced that the time was ripe for the debut of the Wild Man of the North. After they pulled their cart into the parched field where they would perform, Thikia shoved a handful of fur at him.
”What's this?” Darak asked.
”Your costume.”
He dangled the small rabbitskin pouch by its two leather thongs. ”Where's the rest of it?”
”That's it.”
”It's no bigger than the bag I keep my charms in!”
”It's for holding other charms, Wild Man.”
”I can't wear this,” he said, scandalized. ”My a.r.s.e'll be hanging out for the whole world to see.”
”That's the idea.” Thikia licked her lips. ”The ladies're going to love you.”
”Not when they see the scars on my back.”
”Scars? Even better. You wait. After the performance, you'll have to beat 'em off with your club.”
”I'll talk to Olinio.”
”It was Olinio's idea.”
”But . . .” Darak turned to Urkiat who suddenly became very busy knotting his khirta around his waist. ”I won't do it,” he said firmly.
”You will,” Thikia promised, just as firmly. ”Or Olinio'll leave you here with nothing but the clothes on your back. a.s.suming he doesn't take those to pay for all the training you've received.”
”Training? Waving a sack of grain and growling?”
”Save your breath, Wild Man. If you want to get to Pilozhat, you'll wear your furry little c.o.c.k bag and keep your mouth shut.”
Thanking the G.o.ds Rizhi couldn't see him and Hakkon couldn't comment, Darak ducked behind the painted backdrop to put the d.a.m.n thing on. If Griane were here, she would be the one howling. As for Keirith, once he got his son safely home, he would remind him every day for the rest of his life how much he owed his father.
He emerged to a loud whistle from Thikia and a coa.r.s.e laugh from Bep. Bo gave him an encouraging smile and quickly looked away. Hakkon just blinked, but Darak could have sworn he was fighting a smile.
”It's not so bad,” Urkiat said.
”Stop saying that!”
”All the important things are covered.”
”I warn you . . .”
”Just be sure and double knot the thongs.”
Urkiat's serious expression gave way to a grin. Darak swung his club and Urkiat ducked, still grinning.
”I liked you better when you were awestruck.”
”I'm still awestruck. It's a wondrous great fur bag. A prodigious . . . ow!”
Olinio's head poked around the backdrop. ”Stop this fooling around. Our audience is gathering.” His voice dropped an octave as it always did when he referred to the audience. As if they were performing before the king and queen of Zheros and not a crowd of farmers and laborers.
Olinio inspected his fur bag and sighed. ”A pity we had no more fur. I would have liked a hood. With ears. Still. Very impressive. Imposing. Intimidating. You'll want to be sure and double knot-”
”I did!”
”Exactly.” He fluffed his multicolored tunic and smoothed his thinning hair. ”Let the magic begin!”
When his turn came to perform, Darak stalked around the backdrop and was met by jeers, boos, whistles, and enthusiastic applause from the women. Cheeks burning, he growled and howled and swung his club. He had the pleasure of knocking the great Zherosi warrior on his a.r.s.e twice before a sword thrust under the armpit finished him off. He fell to the ground, refusing to writhe, and lay motionless throughout Urkiat's lengthy recitation. When it was finished, he got up, glared at the audience, and stalked off to tumultuous applause.
He was pulling his tunic over his head when he was clasped in a sweaty embrace.
”Breathtaking!” Olinio exclaimed. ”Positively breathtaking. I am thrilled to limpness.”
Darak shook him off and reached for his breeches.
”I knew it from the moment I saw you. I am never wrong about such things. Rizhi. Quick. The final song. Bo, Bep-the jars for coins. Smile, everyone, smile.”
Urkiat appeared a moment later, a little dustier than usual, but in high spirits.
”If you say one word about my rough-hewn, barbarous splendor . . .”
Urkiat backed away, hands raised. ”Not a word. I swear.”
They collected a lot of coins that evening, although mostly the copper ones called frogs. And Thikia was right about the ladies; they crowded around, giggling and murmuring, as he helped Hakkon pack up the backdrop and costumes.
Darak was so intent on avoiding his female admirers that he didn't notice the other knot of spectators until he heard the laughter. A group of youths trailed after Bep. One was on his knees, waddling back and forth in a cruel imitation of his ungainly walk. When Bep tried to slip away, two of the burliest farm boys seized him under the arms and lifted him in the air. His short legs swung back and forth and everyone bellowed with laughter. Bep bared his teeth in a ferocious grin as if he enjoyed the rough play, but one look at his scarlet face and blazing eyes sent Darak striding forward.
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