5
Meanwhile, in a corridor of the castle . . .
Krasnegar had not changed at all. Not a thing. World capital of dull. The same soup bubbled in the same pots, the same seagulls stood on the battlements, the same dogs erupted all over a long-lost friend. The only difference was that Kadie was not around to share it. Kadie was never going to be around again. When Gath mentioned her to their friends, they became confused and upset and changed the subject.
Friends? The imps seemed devious, curious, and garrulous to him; domestic jotnar were a wishy-washy imitation of the wild variety he had come to know. All this peace and serenity was going to take a lot of getting used to, an Evilish lot! Gath had not faced death even once in the last hour. What he needed was exercise and entertainment to stop him moping about Kadie.
This was the most promising future he could find ”Gath!” exclaimed the burly redhead.
“Oh, hello, Brak!” Gath said airily, rising from the bench he had been waiting on. Yes, he was a handsbreadth taller than Brak! He had known, but it was good to see. Wonderful! Best thing yet!
Behind Brak stood Arkie and Koarth. They had grown, too, but Brak was in front and clearly still the leader.
“Where have you been?”
“Oh, all sorts of places,” Gath said modestly. “Helping my dad the warlock, mostly.”
“The what?”
“Warlock.” Gath flexed his arms hopefully. There was a fifty-fifty future of Brak calling him a liar now, and Gath slaughtering him. Arkie and Koarth exchanged interested glances.
But Brak peered up at the returned traveler for a long, cautious moment and apparently disliked what he saw.
“That’s great news for Krasnegar,” he muttered.
“This is Longday. I was at the Nintor Moot this morning. Very interesting.”
“This morning?”
“You heard what I said.”
This time the pause was longer. Arkie coughed. Koarth hummed and tapped a boot on the flagstones.
Brak wiped his forehead. “We’d like to hear about that, Gath,” he said faintly.
Gath sighed. Hopeless! “That’s a fantastic ear you’ve got, lad. I wonder you can hold your head straight. Did I do that, or has someone else been giving you lessons?”
“That was you.” Brak pulled a grin, although it displayed hints of desperation. “We both put up quite a show that day, didn’t we, Gath? The guys talked of it for weeks. I know I knocked you out in the end, but you did a lot more damage to me than I did to you . . . we could kinda call that one a draw, couldn’t we?”
Gath’s mouth felt full of tooth, because an hour or two ago Jaurg had replaced the piece Brak had broken off. Maybe Brak wasn’t too bad really, especially compared with Vork or some of the men of their age in Gark. It was sort of good to see him again. Gath returned the grin. “I suppose we could.”
Brak released a long breath of relief. Arkie and Koarth welcomed Gath back. Gath said it was good to see them all. “Er, which throne did your, er, the king, get?” Koarth asked. “The gold.”
“Why not north?”
“Wasn’t available. Of course, as East, he runs the Imperial Army. Keeps him busy, you know. And he’s rewriting Emine’s Protocol. With the help of some pixies. Funny people, pixies.” Three sets of blue eyes blinked, but no one questioned.
Gath yawned. “I’m heading down to the Beached Whale for a beer or two. Wanna come along and hear about the Nintor Moot?” And there would be action there later . . .
“They won’t let us into the Beached Whale!” Brak said. Puke! No, they wouldn’t! This was Krasnegar. Mom made all the rules here. Gath frowned and reached for prescience. Oh, of course! “Then let’s go and find my friend Jaurg. He’ll get us in.”
The game again:
And many a broken heart is here
And many a broken head;
But tomorrow, By the living God,
We’ll try the game again!— Masefield, Tomorrow