Part 41 (1/2)

Loud boos accompanied the appearance of another man, clad in a khirta and holding a sword. Clearly, the crowd was more interested in seeing the Wild Man ravish the helpless girl. The warrior made a rude gesture that turned the booing to applause. He flung his head back and flashed a triumphant grin.

”Was I there?”

Keirith just stared at the warrior. It was the man his father had brought home. The one he had fought beside. Urkiat. Good G.o.ds, what was he doing here?

”Did you see me in the vision?”

”Once.”

Keirith lowered his head. It was dark under the canopy. Urkiat had the torchlight in his eyes. He would never see him. He would never even notice one person among so many.

”What was I doing?”

”You . . . you rise. Like Zhe at dawn.”

He dared a look at Urkiat who was chasing the Wild Man. Disbelief turned to horror as Keirith watched them.

”Rise. You mean flying? I was flying?”

”Flying. Yes. Flying. Over Malaq.”

It couldn't be. He was drunk. He was tired. He was imagining things. Many men were tall and dark-haired and powerfully built. That was not his father shaking his head and snarling. His father was at home with his mam and Callie and Faelia.

He found himself leaning forward, searching for the telltale scars on his back, craning for a glimpse of his hands, but the Wild Man moved so quickly that he couldn't be certain.

Urkiat issued his challenge. The Wild Man fell to his knees and flung up his hands in pretended terror. Even in the uncertain light of the torches, Keirith could see the stumps of the missing fingers. Just as he could see his father's sharp profile when the Wild Man threw back his head and howled.

Darak lunged at Urkiat, who squealed like a girl and fled, obliging him to chase him around the perimeter of the performing area again. He stopped in front of one of the canopied shelters to catch his breath. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a bunch of grapes away from a man and ate them slowly, all the while grinning like an idiot. A woman held out a goblet of wine and called out something. He drained the goblet and tossed it over his shoulder, then whirled around in pretended terror at discovering Urkiat creeping up on him. He flung the grapes at Urkiat's face, enjoying his startled expression.

”That's for making me chase you. Twice.”

Urkiat brandished his sword and bellowed something in Zherosi that provoked enthusiastic cheers.

”Can we finish this, please?” Darak added a howl for good measure. ”I'm too old for this.”

”As you wish, Wild Man.”

Urkiat lowered his sword and ran right at him. Darak sidestepped and Urkiat careened past. Darak jumped up, jeering and pointing. Another pa.s.s, another sidestep. Urkiat hacked at him and he ducked. Then, just as they'd planned, he dove for Urkiat's legs. He knocked him on his a.r.s.e and they rolled over a few times. Both of them were spitting sand by the time Urkiat shoved him away. Darak fell onto his back.

”I give up.”

”About time.”

With a hideous cry, Urkiat raised his sword and drove it into the sand near his armpit. Darak screamed and writhed as Urkiat twisted the blade back and forth. Finally, Urkiat straightened to tumultuous applause.

Coughing and clutching his side, Darak staggered to his feet. He lurched toward the nearest shelter and was greeted by a number of feminine squeals. He bared his teeth at the men and winked at an older woman who winked back. Then it was off to the next shelter for more of the same.

The smoke from the torches made his eyes water and the light was too blinding to see the faces of the people under the canopy. But Olinio had said the Zheron was seated near the middle of this one and had begged him to pa.s.s close. Fine. He'd give the priest a quick snarl, a nice growl. After that, he was going to die.

He fell to his knees, peering at the occupants, but his eyes were too dazzled by the torchlight to see more than shadowy forms. He gave a genuine groan as he got up again. Hoping for the best, he stumbled into the shelter.

He went down on all fours. He snarled. He lowered his head and growled. And then he looked up into his son's eyes.

He couldn't move. He couldn't think. All he could do was stare back at his father. Already, the squeals and laughter and exclamations were giving way to surprised muttering. He could feel Xevhan's eyes on him. He had to do something, say something before he put his father in danger.

”What's the matter with him?” the woman demanded. ”Go away, you nasty beast.”

Her words brought Keirith out of his daze. ”Go away,” he repeated. He seized the cus.h.i.+on he was sitting on and hit his father in the face with it. ”Go away, Wild Man. Go away.”

His father fell back on his haunches, his face terrible. Others took up the cry. Cus.h.i.+ons struck his father on the head, the chest. The woman tossed the contents of her goblet at him, giggling as the dregs dripped down his cheeks. In a moment, kugi and flatbread were flying toward him.

”Get away!” Keirith screamed in the tribal tongue.

Mercifully, Urkiat appeared at that moment. His face went blank with shock and then he seized his father's arm. The crowd cheered as he dragged him back to the center of the arena. His father lay there, chest heaving, while the old woman launched into a speech.

”That was odd,” Xevhan said.

”Yes. Very scaring.”

”It was almost as if he knew you.”

Think, Keirith, think.

”He is a tree lover. Like me. But why is he here?”

”I was hoping you might tell me.”

”Well, he certainly acted strange enough,” the woman interjected. ”And those awful hands. Did you see them, Xevhan? Like some animal had gnawed off his fingers.”

”What did you say to him?” Xevhan asked.

”What?”

”At the end. You screamed something at him.”

”I say, 'Go away.' He maybe does not understand Zherosi, so I speak in my tongue.”

”Very clever.”

”Look, Xevhan. It's your little blind girl. I saw you ogling her before, you wicked man. She is a pretty child. If only someone would dress her decently.”

Xevhan's gaze slid briefly to the performing area. ”A dull ending to the battle.”

”Yes. Not good. Not good at all.” He was talking too fast, acting too strange. Xevhan would never believe he was simply unnerved by the Wild Man. ”One man with sword. Another like wolf. It is no fight at all.”

Stop babbling, Keirith. Have a drink of wine. Talk to the woman. Anything.