The Brotherhood: Blood (72 page)
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, don’t worry—I did.”
A smirk appeared on Miko’s face as he pulled his hood back. He stood there for a moment, smiling at what he just said, before he began to disrobe, pulling both his cloak and his cape from his back.
“Why were you talking about life with old men?” he frowned, thinking of how the Elf had acted earlier.
“For general conversation, I suppose. I figured you and Nova could use a little personal time anyway.”
“Don’t think that we don’t want your company,” Odin said, reaching up to run a hand through his still-unwashed hair. “If something’s bothering you, you can talk to us. You know that, right?”
“I know,” Miko smiled.
Of course you know,
Odin smirked.
You just don’t tell us anything.
Then again, that wasn’t entirely true. Miko
had
confided about his overwhelming need to be with a woman and about the deep depression that forced thoughts of death and suicide in his mind. Such things weren’t meant to be glossed over, especially considering his age and lack of experience.
“I feel like I’m talking to a man sometimes,” Miko said, reaching down to part his hands over his skirt. “Not that you aren’t one, because you most rightfully are. What I mean is that you’re very wise for your age.”
“You flatter me, sir.”
“There’s no need to feel that way. It’s only the truth.”
Odin nodded and stepped forward to gather his master’s clothes. While Miko walked to the bed, stopping by the window as he did every night, Odin folded the black ensemble and placed it on the bed.
“Thank you,” Miko said, glancing over his shoulder.
“You’re welcome.”
“Goodnight Odin.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
A knock at the door roused him from sleep.
At first, Odin remained in bed, thinking Nova or Miko would answer it. Gradually, though, he came to realize neither intended to do so.
Sliding out of bed, he grabbed his belt and secured it around his waist so his trousers wouldn’t slide down his bony waist, then stepped toward the doorway. He stopped, waited, then ran a hand over his face to clear aside any sweat that may have managed to run down his brow before opening the door.
Icklard and Domnin stood in the hall, talking amongst one another. They obviously hadn’t noticed the door had opened.
Ok,
Odin thought, waiting for either of the brothers to take notice of him.
“Oh,” Icklard said, turning his attention to the now-open doorway. “Hello, Odin.”
“Good morning,” Domnin added.
“Hello,” Odin yawned, running a hand through his hair. “Do you guys need something?”
“Sorry for waking you,” Icklard sighed, reaching back to scratch his neck. “We came to ask if you wanted to walk around town with us.”
“This early?”
“Better to do it now than later,” Domnin smiled. “We’ll have the streets to ourselves.”
“I… I guess,” Odin shrugged, casting a glance over his shoulder. “Let me put my socks and shoes on. You can come in and wait if you want.”
“That’s all right,” Icklard said. “We’ll wait in the hall.”
“If your knight master or Nova want to come, feel free to invite them,” the older brother added.
“All right. I will.”
Without waiting for one of the brothers to reply, Odin closed the door and made his way back to the bed. He took a deep breath, reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes, then grabbed for his socks. He’d just begun to pull them onto his feet when Nova rolled over and set a hand over his eyes. “Somethin’ up?” the man croaked.
“Icklard and Domnin invited me to come see the city with them,” Odin said, pulling his socks further up his ankles to smooth out the wrinkles in them. “Do you want to come?”
“Nah. It’s too early to be walking around town anyway.”
“All right. I’ll see you later then.”
“Yeah. See ya.”
Nova rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes. He seemed to fall asleep almost instantly.
Odin glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of his sword. He found it propped against the wall next to Nova’s scythe. Miko’s silver sheath, though not visible, could easily be hiding in one of the chests or amidst their packs.
Doesn’t matter anyway,
he thought, making sure he’d properly secured his sword at his side.
It’s not like we’re going to run into any trouble here.
The worst he could imagine was getting into a bar fight, but even then, Nova had upheld his promise not to get shit-faced drunk again.
“Odin?” Icklard asked, gently knocking on the door. “Are you almost ready?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling the blanket further up Nova’s back. “Let me lock the place up.”
He walked to the threshold, lifted the key from its rack, and opened the door. He brushed out into the hall, locked it, and slid it under the crack beneath the wood, hoping Nova would be smart enough to locate it should he rise from bed before they returned.
“All right,” Odin smiled, stretching his arms over his head. “You guys ready?”
“Definitely,” Domnin grinned.
Icklard smiled and led them down the hall.
“It’s so… dark,” Odin frowned, looking up at the sky.
“The Hornblaris does a good job at keepin the sun from rising early,” Icklard said, gesturing back at the mountains behind them. “They’re higher than they look.”
“Especially in the morning,” Domnin said, stopping, then turning to look at the grand peaks that rose above them. “It’s… well… I don’t know how to describe it. Surreal, maybe, but I don’t think that’s the right word.”
“I think the mountain’s
anything
but surreal,” Icklard laughed, clapping his brother’s back. “We’ve seen stranger things than the Hornblaris Mountains.”
“Yeah, but… we’ve never been so close.”
“You’ve never been this close to them?” Odin frowned.
“Oh, no,” Domnin smiled. “We’ve only seen the mountains from a distance.”
“I still don’t think they’re as surreal as you make them out to be,” Icklard said, smacking the back of his older and taller brother’s head. “Come on—we’ve got more town to see.”
“What all did you want to show me?” Odin asked, falling into place with the two older men.”
“We just wanted to look around. Right, Domnin?”
“Right,” the older brother said. “We’ve never been here before.”
I figured,
Odin thought.
He raised his hand to cover a cough that escaped his throat.
Memories came flooding back almost immediately.
“Guys,” Odin said, looking up at the two of them. “You don’t think I’ll get the blood cough again, do you?”
“You’ve had it before, right?” Icklard asked, waiting for Odin to nod before he continued. “I don’t see why you’d get it twice, if you’ve already had it.”
“Does it worry you?” Domnin frowned.
“My knight master said he catches it every so often. I worry I’ll give something to him.”
“Your master is a strange one,” Icklard mused, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I don’t understand why he walks around in that cloak all the time. I mean, I can understand if he’s sensitive to light—as Jerdai and the man himself has said—but I’ve never heard of that before.”
“He could be mixed blood,” Domnin mused, turning his attention to Odin. “Has he mentioned anything like that to you?”
“Nuh-No,” Odin stuttered, swallowing a lump in his throat.
Both brothers stopped. Domnin stared at him for a moment, frowned, then looked up at his brother, who only shrugged and offered a small, if somewhat-forced smile. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” Icklard said. “We don’t discriminate. Do we, Dom?”
“Nope.”
“Come on. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
They stopped at a small shack along the side of the road and ate hot rolls and butterscotch tea. Odin, liking the tea so much upon the first initial taste, was keen to ask the old woman who owned the bakery if he could buy a pack of the sweets they carried.
“Why, of course,” she said, eyes alight with newfound pleasure. “I always knew someone would ask if they could buy some one day.”
“You’ve never been asked before?” Odin frowned.
“Why, no—no one has at all. I find it odd, considering most who come in here seem to enjoy the tea. I’d imagine sailors such as yourself would like something nice to drink out on the sea.”
“We’re not sailors,” all three said, almost at the same time.
The old woman merely laughed and walked behind the counter, where she disappeared into a back room.
“Are you going to buy some?” Odin asked, watching his friends over the rim of his cup.
“I don’t know,” Icklard shrugged.
“We might as well,” Domnin said, reaching into his pocket. “Besides—Jerdai complains about all the honey tea I make.”
“It’s not like he drinks it.”
“That’s my point.”
Icklard snickered, but quickly straightened out when the old woman returned.
“Here we go boys,” she said, setting two, pocket-sized bags before them.
“We’ll pay now,” Odin said, fishing a few silver pieces out of his pocket. “Will this work?”
“Silver?” she asked.
“Uh… if you want something else, I can—”
“Oh no, dear, it’s not that. It’s just… I’m not used to being offered such sums of money.”
“Is it too much?”
“I won’t lie, because I’m an honest old bird, but this butterscotch, it’s worth much less than it seems to be. I’m not going to take your money just because you offer it, though you’ll find many a person in this city will be more than willing to take whatever is offered.
“You’re very kind,” Odin said, looking at the three silver pieces. He shifted the coins in his hand, watching them gleam in the faint light that pierced through the nearby window, then looked up at the old woman. Had she even seen a silver piece in her life, much less had one grace her old, wrinkled hand?
He waited, not sure what to do or say, before smiling and setting the pieces in her hand.
“Dear, I said—”
“Please, take them,” he said, curling her fingers until they touched her palm.
“I can’t—”
“I’m a squire, ma’am—I can part with a few silver pieces.”
“I don’t deserve such kindness.”
“Everyone does.”
Once Odin released his hold on her fist, the old woman uncurled her fingers, looked at the money in her hand, then walked around the counter.
She disappeared into the back room without another word.
“You know,” Domnin said, sliding a piece of butterscotch into his mouth, “she might have been playing you.”
“I know,” Odin sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. “They’re only silver pieces.”
“Still, you gave her more money than she needed.”
Odin turned his head down, preferring to stare at his feet rather than meet either of the brothers’ eyes. Just the knowledge that he could’ve been tricked out of money shamed him to no end. How, he thought, would he be able to face his knight master if he couldn’t even face his friends?”
“Hey,” Icklard said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok. We’ve all been duped out of money at least once in our lives.”
“I haven’t.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Domnin said. He, too, set a hand on Odin’s back. “Besides—there’s worse things that could have happened.”
“She could’ve taken gold,” Icklard said.
“Or worse. Robbed you.”
“I know,” Odin said, looking up at his friends. He stopped walking to look up at the sky, which had since brightened. Yellow-orange peeked over the highest points of the mountains and cast flaming shards of red across the eastern horizon. “Thank you, Icklard, Domnin. I mean, for being there for me.”
“You don’t have to thank us,” Icklard said.
“You don’t,” Domnin smiled, running a hand up and down Odin’s back.
“What am I going to tell my knight master when he asks about the missing silver? I took it so the three of us could spend the day together.”
“Well,” Icklard smiled, sliding a silver piece out of his pocket. “I’ve got this.”
“And I’ve got these,” Domnin added, holding two of his own.
“I can’t take this from you.”
“Yeah you can.”
“Besides,” Icklard chuckled. “You paid for our food and butterscotch. It’s the least we could do.”
By the time they returned to the bar later that day, the sun had fallen across the sky, as though plummeting to the earth like a being from a faraway world. Before they had a chance to enter the establishment and thereby rule their day done, they stopped to examine the sunset, bathing in the glory of the ethereal glow that radiated from the nearby sea.