“I’d say more than a little.”
Camu looked at Ulf, smiling, happy to have impressed the old warrior. Ulf stared at him for a long moment with his good eye wide open, tilting his head this way and that. “I don’t know what this creature is, but he looks more like a giant lizard every time.”
Lizard? Camu transmitted a feeling of annoyance to Lasgol. More than that, one of outrage.
Ona made a noise that sounded like a giggle. Camu’s mental message had reached her too.
“He didn’t like you calling him a lizard …”
“He didn’t like it? Does that bug understand me?”
I not bug.
“Yes, he understands you, and he doesn’t like the word ‘bug’ either …
Martha turned in surprise and looked at Camu. “How funny that he should be so intelligent. That means he’s special.”
“He’s certainly intelligent, and mischievous, and very stubborn. I don’t know about special,” Lasgol joked.
And handsome.
Lasgol snorted. “He also has quite an inflated ego.”
“Really?” Martha said. She sounded intrigued.
“What’s the lizard saying?” Ulf demanded.
“That he’s handsome too.”
Ulf burst out laughing, with deafening guffaws. His laughter was so infectious that Martha joined him unobtrusively, and Lasgol too could not resist and laughed in his turn. He had the feeling that even Ona was laughing.
Not funny, Camu transmitted, very offended. He stood up stiffly on the table and raised his head so that they could all see how offended he was.
Ulf pointed. “Look, now he’s taken offense and all.”
“I’m afraid he has,” Lasgol confirmed.
Ulf broke into his thunderous laugh again.
“I’m sure he’s very handsome among those of his kind,” Martha said to Camu, to make him feel better.
And smart. Camu added.
Lasgol was glad Martha and Ulf could not hear Camu’s comments. If they had, they would have had a ball.
“Leave the creature alone,” Martha said to Ulf.
“Fine. I’ll sit down at the table, and maybe if I’m lucky you’ll let me try that delicious stew you’re cooking.”
“Sure, and I suppose you’d like some Nocean wine with it.”
“Stews always taste better with a little wine, it brings out the flavor,” Ulf explained as he sat down stiffly. Lasgol offered to help him, but Ulf gave him his ‘don’t you even think of it’ glare, so he let the soldier manage on his own. Finally, he succeeded, although his crutch fell to the floor and Ona gave a start under the table.
“Some people will say anything …” Martha said.
Camu, please get down on the floor with Ona. Martha’s going to serve dinner.
Camu did as he was told and cuddled up to his sister under the long oak table.
“That thing isn’t going to do any magic tricks, is it?” Ulf asked. He looked as though this would be the last straw.
“He won’t do anything magical, don’t worry. Although you shouldn’t be so superstitious. Magic can be good too.”
“Magic is something I don’t want anywhere near me. Every Norghanian knows it never brings anything good.”
“That’s a village superstition,” Martha objected.
“You’re defending magic too?”
“My best friend, his mother, was a powerful sorcerer. He” – she waved at Lasgol – “has magic he must have inherited from her, and so has the creature, who’s harmless. Of course, I’m defending them.”
“Camu’s magic has helped me out of a few complicated situations,” Lasgol assured him.
“Well done, lizard,” Ulf told Camu, who stared back at him angrily.
“It’s a pity people distrust magic so much,” Lasgol said regretfully.
“The Ice Magi and the Nocean Sorcerers are very powerful and can do some really horrible things,” Ulf pointed out.
“Yes,” Lasgol retorted, “and the Healers of the Temple of Tirsar can cure wounds and illnesses.”
“All right, then! I won’t criticize your blasted magic! Even though I don’t trust it, I only trust steel.” He touched his sword where it hung at his waist.
Ulf and Lasgol talked about everything that had happened in the village during the previous few months, until Martha had dinner ready. Then the three ate as a family, and once again Lasgol felt a great joy. He laughed at all Ulf’s crazy ideas, curses and shouts. He had not changed one little bit, which was what he had expected and which pleased him greatly. Ulf was Ulf and you simply had to love him or hate him, because he was never going to change. That was how Lasgol saw it, and he loved him for it.
Martha teased the old soldier, which made the evening even more enjoyable. As both of them had requested, Lasgol told them about his adventures from the time he had left for the Shelter until his return. Everything he could without revealing the secrets of the Rangers, or his own loyalty to the West. Nor did he mention the Dark Rangers, because he felt there was no need for them to worry, and he kept that to himself.
Between mouthfuls of the delicious stew, Ulf asked endless questions and teased him about everything to do with the Rangers and their way of doing things, as was to be expected of him. Martha was genuinely interested in everything that had happened to Lasgol, showing true affection for him, which was something he was grateful for from the bottom of his heart. Two of the things that completely captivated their attention were his encounters with the Ice Specter and the Mountain Ogre.
“I’d have given my other leg for the chance to fight against them!”
“I’d have been glad of the help.”
“Don’t be a brute, what do you mean, your other leg?” Martha scolded him.
“Well then, an arm. They still work perfectly well, both of them.”
“What doesn’t work perfectly well is your head,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, well, some days not so much,” Ulf admitted.
The three laughed, with great good-humor.
The conversation was so entertaining that Lasgol wished
