see what I can come up with?'
'I'll start a fire,' Krispos said. 'Roast fish, crawfish baked in clay ...' He glanced over to see how Iakovitzes liked the idea.
'Could be worse, I suppose,' the noble said grudgingly. 'See if you can find some early marjoram, too, why don't you, Mavros? It would add to the flavor.'
'I'll do my best.' Mavros rummaged through his gear till he found the hooks and some light line. 'A chunk of sausage should be bait enough for the fish, but what do you suppose I should use to lure out the marjoram?'
Iakovitzes threw a boot at him.
One day when he was close to halfway back to the city, Krispos came across the little jet ornament he'd brought for Sirikia.
He stared at it; the seamstress hadn't crossed his mind in months. He hoped she'd found someone new. After Tanilis, going back to her would be like leaving Videssos for his farming village: possible, but not worth thinking about.
He was no monk on the journey westward; abstinence was not in his nature. But he had finally learned not to imagine himself in love each time his lust needed slaking. Mavros still sighed whenever he left behind another barmaid or dyeshop girl.
The travelers lay over in a town called Develtos to rest their horses. Iakovitzes surveyed the place with a jaundiced eye. His one-sentence verdict summed it up perfectly. 'By the good god, it makes Opsikion look like a metropolis.'
Mavros spluttered at that, but Krispos knew what his master meant. Develtos boasted a stout wall and had little else about which to boast. Seeing how small and gloomy a town the works protected, Krispos wondered why anyone had bothered to build them in the first place.
'The road does need strongpoints every so often,' Iakovitzes told him when he said that aloud. The noble took another long look, sighed in despair. 'But we'll have to make our own fun, that's for certain. Speaking of which ...' His gaze traveled back to Krispos.
It was the groom's turn to sigh. Iakovitzes had not bothered him much since Mavros joined them. So far as Krispos knew, he hadn't made advances at Mavros, either. Had Krispos not seen a good-looking young stablehand a couple of towns back wearing one of the noble's rings the morning they set out, he would have wondered if Iakovitzes was fully healed. He'd enjoyed the peace while it lasted.
The inn Iakovitzes picked proved livelier than the rest of Develtos, whose people seemed as dour as the grim gray stone from which their wall and buildings were made. That was not the innkeeper's fault; he was as somber as any of his townsfolk. But a group of close to a dozen mother-of-pearl merchants from the eastern island of Kalavria made the place jolly in spite of its proprietor. Krispos had even met one or two of them back at Opsikion; they'd landed there before heading inland.
'Why didn't you just sail straight on to Videssos the city?' he asked one of the traders over a mug of wine.
'Bring mother-of-pearl to the city?' exclaimed the Kalavrian, a hook-nosed fellow named Stasios. 'I might as well fetch milk to a cow. Videssos has more than it needs already. Here away from the sea, though, the stuff is rare and wonderful, and we get good prices.'
'You know your business best,' Krispos said. From the way the merchants were spending money, they'd done well so far.
The taproom grew gloomy as evening came on. The innkeeper waited longer than Krispos liked before lighting candles; likely he'd hoped his guests would go to bed when it got dark and save him the expense. But the Kalavrians were in no mood for sleep. They sang and drank and swapped stories with Krispos and his companions.
After a while, one of the traders took out a pair of dice. The tiny rattle they gave as he rolled them on the table to test his luck made Iakovitzes scramble to his feet. 'I'm going upstairs,' he told Krispos and Mavros, 'and if the two of you have any sense you'll come with me. You start gambling with Kalavrians and you'll still be at it when the sun comes up again.'
The merchants laughed. 'So they know our reputation even in the city?' Stasios said. 'I'd have bet they did.'
'I know you would,' Iakovitzes said. 'You'd bloody well bet on anything. That's why I'm heading off to bed, to keep from having to stay up with you.'
Mavros hesitated, then went upstairs with him. Krispos decided to stay and play. The stakes, he saw with some relief, were pieces of silver, not gold. 'We're all friends,' one of the traders said, noticing his glance at the money they'd got out. 'There'd be no joy in breaking a man, especially since he'd have to stay with us till fall even so.'
'Good enough,' Krispos answered. Before long, the man to his left threw double sixes and lost the dice. They came to him. He rattled them in his hand, then sent them spinning across the tabletop. Twin ones stared up at the gamblers. 'Phos' little suns!' Krispos said happily. He collected all the bets.
'Your first throw!' a Kalavrian said. 'With luck like that, no wonder you wanted to stay down here. You knew you'd clean us out.'
'They're your dice,' Krispos retorted. 'For all I knew, you'd loaded them.'
'No, that'd be Rhangavve,' Stasios said. 'He's not with us this year—somebody back home on the island caught him at it and broke his arm for him. He's richer than any of us, though, the cheating bastard.'
Krispos won a little, lost a little, won a little more. Eventually he found himself yawning and not being able to stop. He got up from the table. 'That's enough for me,' he said. 'I want to be able to ride tomorrow without falling off my horse.'
A couple of Kalavrians waved as he headed for the stairs. More had eyes only for the spinning bone cubes. Behind the bar, the innkeeper sat dozing. He jerked awake every so often. 'Aren't you gents tired, too?' he asked plaintively, seeing Krispos leave. The traders laughed at him.
Krispos had just got to the head of the stairs when he saw someone quietly emerging from Iakovitzes' room.
