Black Halo

He swallowed hard. His mouth felt dry. The bonfires were suddenly unbearably warm.

‘So what are you going to tell her when she does?’

‘Hey!’

He turned and saw her wading through the green herds towards him. He blinked.

‘Hey,’ he replied.

‘Not as earth-shattering as you’d hoped, is it?’

‘I thought you’d be with the others,’ Kataria said, stepping over a staggering, laughing Owauku.

‘Probably not a good idea,’ Lenk said, glancing down to the pink shapes in the valley below. ‘They …’

‘What are you going to tell her? That they looked at you like she does and you wanted to strangle them?’

‘Annoyed me.’

‘Not quite honest, but that hardly matters.’

‘I’m sure you could join them, though,’ he offered, ignoring the voice.

She shook her head. ‘Asper and I had a disagreement.’

‘What kind of disagreement?’

‘I beat her with a roach leg.’

‘Ah.’

Through the din of festivities rising from the valley, a silence hung between them that felt unfamiliar. Even amongst the roiling green stew below, even as she stood beside him, he could not help but feel as though he were alone.

‘A thought occurs.’

Almost alone, anyway.

‘Why bother telling her anything? Is that not how all your problems start?’

I can’t deal with you right now.

‘Why not simply enjoy the celebration? Can’t some things come without strife? ’

I … suppose that makes sense.

‘You said it yourself, did you not?’

I did. It made sense, then, too. He smiled. I should relax, shouldn’t I?

A cold wind swept over the ridge.

‘Idiocy.’

He trembled at the sudden chill. That her hand then fell upon his shoulder should have stopped such a quaking, he knew, yet it didn’t. Not until he turned and looked into her eyes.

After that, he felt himself about to shudder, shatter and fall apart.

There was a certainty in her stare that pained him to see. In her eyes was reflected that which he had feared, that thought that had consumed him since morning. She stared at him with a knowledge of who she was, what she was.

She knew how this was going to end.

He knew it now, too.

‘Hey,’ she said again.

‘Hey,’ he replied.

He waited for the confirmation, the declaration as to how it would all happen, how it would all end. He braced himself, wondering if it might be easier just to hurl himself off the ledge right now. She spoke.

‘Let’s get drunk.’

‘Oh!’ His eyes went a bit too wide for anything other than tumbling screaming over a ridge. ‘That’s what you want to do.’

‘Yeah.’ She eyed him cautiously. ‘What did you think I wanted?’

He glanced down into the throngs below. Not too steep, he noted. Probably wouldn’t have killed you, anyway, not with your luck.

‘Nothing,’ he said, sighing. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Huh …’

Asper had done many services for the Healer in her time, tending to the wounds of many different people. Absently, as she felt a pair of fingers prod the bruise under her cheek, she wondered if others felt as uncomfortable as she did when she tended to them.

‘Yeah, this isn’t anything to be particularly concerned about,’ Denaos said, giving her cheek a light pat.

‘She beat me with a basted leg from a giant bug,’ Asper growled, slapping away his hand. ‘How is that not worth concern?’

‘She does a lot of things,’ Dreadaeleon offered with a shrug. ‘She spits, farts, snorts …’

‘And I have a strong suspicion that she once left a steaming pile in my pack,’ Denaos added.

‘I liked that pack,’ Dreadaeleon said.

‘It will be missed.’ the rogue replied, sighing. He glanced Asper over and took another sip from his half-gourd. ‘At any rate, she wasn’t trying to hurt you. I’d say she was likely pulling her punches, probably just to scare you.’ He eyed her curiously. ‘What’d you say to her, anyway?’

‘Nothing that’s worth repeating to someone who gives his medical opinion while drinking,’ she replied sharply.

‘It’s not like there’s a lot of other options.’

‘Well,’ Dreadaeleon said meekly, taking a step forward and extending trembling hands, ‘I … I could take a look, I suppose.’

‘It’s fine, thanks,’ Asper said, waving his concern away.

‘Well, no! I mean … are you sure?’ the boy asked, swallowing hard. ‘It’s not that much of a problem, really. I’m familiar with …’ His eyes quivered. ‘Anatomy.’

‘Yes, very familiar,’ Denaos agreed. ‘Particularly the relationship between fists and genitalia.’

‘That’s not-’ The boy’s anxiety boiled to ire as he whirled upon the rogue, glancing at his drink. ‘That’s what? Your fourth tonight?’

‘Astute.’

‘I think you have a problem.’

‘I agree.’ Denaos downed the last of the liquid and leaned in close to the boy, his words tumbling out on a tangy reek. ‘Though I’m hoping that if I drink enough, you’ll go away.’

‘You are drinking quite a bit,’ Asper said, furrowing her brow. ‘How is it you’re even still standing?’

‘This stuff is tasty, indeed,’ Denaos replied, smacking his lips, ‘but not that rough to anyone who’s ever drunk stronger than wine.’ He cast a sidelong glare at Dreadaeleon. ‘Or milk.’

‘I’ve drunk before,’ the boy protested.

‘You had one sip of ale and started crying,’ Denaos replied. ‘Perhaps you should preserve your dignity now and flee before you find a sip of this stuff and add involuntary urination to the problem.’

Dreadaeleon somehow managed to find a healthy medium between fury and astonishment at the insult. Asper felt the passing — swiftly — urge to question the rogue’s sudden and frequent interest in the boy’s bladder, but something else about the tall man drew her attention.

He had made it clear from the moment she had met him that liquor was second on his list of great loves, wedged neatly between cheap prostitutes and portraits depicting expensive prostitutes. And he had taken great pains to make it clear that there was never any excuse for a rush when enjoying any of those three.

Thus to see him imbibe so, with such reckless desperation, made her pause.

‘Why are you drinking so much, anyway?’ she asked.

The swiftness with which he turned to regard her was not half as startling as the look upon his face. It lingered for only a breath longer, but she saw it clearly, the same slight slackening in his jaw, the same subtle sinking in his eyes.

And then, even swifter, it was gone, replaced with a grin too fierce to be convincing to either of them.