knelt by Azkun’s feet, elbowing his way between the pregnant woman and Tenari. He thrust Azkun’s feet into them and looked at him. “Do they fit?” he snapped.
“What did he say?” asked Azkun, for he did not understand Vorthenki.
“He asks if they fit,” said Althak.
“Toes wiggle?” again the man snapped. Althak translated again and Azkun nodded and thanked Arith, Darven and even the woman who served him. But Arith was not satisfied.
“Up, up, walk about. Can’t tell if they fit until you walk.”
So Azkun rose to his feet and walked up and down the room.
“Yes, they do fit. They really do,” he said. Menish noticed he spoke slowly and clearly to Arith, but obviously the man spoke no Relanese at all. Arith was not quite satisfied and proceeded to feel where Azkun’s toes were in the boots, and to shift them about on his feet to see if they were tight enough. At last, with a dubious scowl, he hobbled over to the fire to see if Malak was tending the stew as he had been ordered.
“He makes them himself,” said Darven, “and he can size you at a glance too. Though he never trusts himself there. Your friend’s boots will be the best he has ever owned.”
No doubt, thought Menish.
“And does he make enough of them to trade?”
“Oh yes, indeed. He's famous up and down this coast. Keashil was wearing a pair of Arith’s boots when I last saw her, though they're gone now. I'll make sure she gets another pair. You can always spot them by the dragon design.”
“That, I think, is half the delight at least,” said Menish looking at Azkun. He seemed genuinely pleased with the boots. Several times he traced his finger across the design and he had taken another, voluntary, walk in them.
Presently Keashil and the priestess, Frethi, returned and sat by the fire with them. Menish noted that Keashil, like Frethi, was seated on a stool rather than on the floor. It appeared she had the status of a priestess here. He wondered what had happened to Olcish but a glance around the room revealed that one of the Vorthenki women had left her tasks to look after him. He had been fed some of the stew from the cauldron and was playing warily with some of the other children. He was seemed pleased to be away from adults for a while, especially with his mother in safe hands.
Darven offered them some of the stew. Hrangil and Azkun declined but the others helped themselves, ladling it into bowls and drinking it. Menish was hungry enough to enjoy even this.
With their immediate needs of food and drink met, Menish and Darven began to talk of old times and common friends. The war with Thealum had ended nearly fifteen years ago and there was much to catch up on. Darven was interested that Vorish had married Sonalish, Drinagish’s elder sister, for he had seen her once.
Menish also asked about the other ship in the bay. It was a trading ship like those that often called. The captain and several of his men were staying in one of the other houses but most of the crew, like their own, were sleeping on board.
They talked for hours and they were only interrupted by the beginning of the feast.
After a commotion at the door two men carrying a roasted sheep on a spit entered. The smell of cooked meat permeated the house, drowning the other smells. When the Vorthenki feasted they always cooked their meat outside and carried it indoors when it was ready. Menish noticed Azkun pale at the sight of the dead beast but he kept silent as the two carriers struggled to hang it from another pair of hooks near the one that held the cauldron.
Darven’s menfolk now entered the house. Most were dressed in armour and helmets. Their swords and axes hung from their belts. A feast in a Vorthenki house was a strange thing, a mixture of celebration and brawling. One did not venture there unarmed.
By tradition each man, from the greatest to the least, told who he was and cut some of the meat from the beast. The order in which they came forward reflected their status in the company, as well as the choice and the amount of meat they could take. To the Vorthenki this was vitally important and a man would fight for a place. They mostly wrestled with each other but for the important places, such as that of the chief, or when two men hated each other, swords were drawn and blood was let.
While such duels were easily controlled in the confines of a single house or village ruled by one chief, the situation became delicate and often alarming when guests of other houses were present. The order had to be established and often this turned into an all out battle. Bitter feuds had arisen solely because of this custom. Menish could not criticise. His own people feuded and duelled on the smallest pretext, though they rarely allowed such things to interrupt a feast.
Darven indicated that Menish should get his meat first, again honouring him, but Menish would not see his host diminished in his own house and insisted that he precede him. So Darven rose and briefly announced that he had bested Arith and fought Thealum at the Olsha fords. He cut a large hunk of meat and seated himself, passing some of the meat to the woman at his feet as well as a portion to Keashil and Frethi.
Menish followed, announcing that he was King of Anthor and made sure he took enough meat for the woman who served him as well as for himself.
He had no idea what would happen next. Althak, of course, was well able to cope, but Hrangil could be dismissed as an old man and left to the end. Drinagish was liable to challenge one of Darven’s men and start a fight.
It was Althak who solved these problems. He stood next and looked carefully at the other warriors in the room. One of them stood, a big man with Darven’s red hair, but not as big as Althak. The two glared at each other for a moment and the red-haired man sat down.
“I am Althak, son of the house of Amoldon. I fought at the Olsha fords and in other battles against Thealum. My sword has killed more than fifty men.” A murmur went through the warriors. The number, when Menish thought about it, was about right. It seemed a lot of dead men, even if they were mostly Thealum's cronies and pirates. “But I give my place to my friends who are greater than I.” He nodded to Hrangil and then Drinagish who came forward in silence. They were Anthorians and not used to bragging of their deeds.
Althak next looked at Azkun who shook his head and Menish pitied the woman who served him. Althak took his own portion next and sat down. The giving up of his place to others was not unprecedented, although it was unusual. Menish had heard of it happening before.
One by one the other men came forward, starting with the one who would have preceded Althak. Omoth the sailor was among them. Some were brief and some were lengthy in their descriptions of their deeds. One man accredited himself with winning most of the battles Menish had ever heard of. Someone told him to get his portion and sit down eventually. There was one of these in every Vorthenki house, Althak muttered.
When all of the warriors had taken their food the carcass was left to the children and the rest of the women.
The meat was well cooked and good. Menish remembered belatedly that he had not fed the woman at his feet and hurriedly passed some meat to her. She thanked him perfunctorily but she was clearly used to more indulgent treatment. Menish noticed Althak distributing some of his meat to Azkun’s woman who received it gratefully. She rewarded Althak by flirting with him in a manner Menish found disgusting, he looked away.
Darven asked Keashil for a song and she played the story of an ancient Vorthenki hero. Menish had heard it before. It had been a popular song among the Vorthenki soldiers in the war against Thealum.
It told the story of Rith, who fell from grace and was cast out of Kishalkuz at the edge of the world. He was doomed to wander the earth forever homeless and harried by his brothers, the four winds. Like most Vorthenki songs the story line was vague and clouded with obscure descriptions and irrelevant battles, but Keashil sang well, her voice blending with the notes of Althak’s harp. The dingy hall echoed with melody, though the walls were hardly smooth enough for that. It was the clarity of her voice that formed the illusion of an echo. Her sightless eyes glittered with tears in the firelight by the time her song had finished. Menish was reminded that her husband had called sometimes himself Rith.
She followed the song of Rith with another, this time in the Relanese tongue. Menish had not heard it before and guessed it must be a song of Golshuz. Surprisingly Frethi and some of the other women joined her in this song. They did not sing nearly as well as Keashil but Menish had heard worse. Frethi made a passable attempt at harmonising with the others.
A crash rent the song as the door slammed open. The women faltered and were silent. The last chord Keashil
