“Nev!” yelled a large man with extremely bushy hair and a long dark beard. He had black eyes, which sparkled behind a particularly large nose, which was faintly tinted red. He moved quickly forward, a smile on his large face and grabbed Nev in a bear hug. The man actually lifted the Tar from the ground. Gwaynn watched the entire greeting in stunned disbelief. Up until now, few were even bold enough to greet Tar Nev, let alone swallow him up in a hug.
“Good to see you again Jon,” Nev said when he was finally released. He was smiling broadly at the much larger man, who ushered them both deeper into the tent and showed them to another table near a long bar.
“How’s the Carol-Anne?” Nev asked, as a pint of dark ale was set before him. Gwaynn was not truly surprised when a similar pint was placed before him.
“Ooooh, she’s fine, just fine. Strong and fast as ever, moored her in Euter three days back and then hauled the supplies overland,” Jon answered and winked at Gwaynn. “So it is true then, ye finally took on a lad for training.”
Nev smiled. “Yes, it’s true enough. Jon, I’d like you to meet Gwaynn. Gwaynn this is Jon, my brother, my only family, though he is large enough and eats enough for any two families.”
Jon threw his head back and laughed, causing most of the customers at other tables to look about, wondering at the disturbance. Many smiled when they saw it was Jon before going back to their own drinks and conversation. Jon was a well-known, well-liked trader of the Inland Sea, and most considered his ale second to none, except perhaps Fultan ale.
“So help your older brother out a bit,” Jon said, still smiling at Gwaynn. “I’m always in need of a little extra coin for food and drink. Who do you favor to win the Competitions?”
Nev shrugged. “Tar Kostek has a very strong team this year,” he answered glancing at Gwaynn, who smiled back. “Who would you pick among his team to win with katas?”
Gwaynn paused for a moment, wanting to pick Vio or Krys, but B’dall was definitely stronger and more experienced than the other two.
“Possibly Vio,” he finally said. “But if your food is on the line I would go with B’dall with katas, the staff, and hand to hand.”
Jon nodded his demeanor completely serious now. “Vio…Vio, isn’t she Kostek’s third year?”
Gwaynn smiled. “Yes.”
Jon whistled. “You seriously think a third year could compete for the championship?”
Gwaynn shrugged. “She is quite skilled,” he answered.
Jon grunted and then smiled. “Well, then she could be the one to earn me some coin.”
“And this Krys?”
“Excellent with the bow, fast with the katas, but still I think B’dall is the strongest from the group in everything but running and the bow.”
“Yes, he seems to be the favorite,” Jon answered, rambling about his favorite subject, “at least with the staff. But Tar Endid has an eighth year student, Seth I believe is his name, he is said to be quite fast and strong, and deadly with the katas. He finished higher than B’dall last year, though they did not face each other directly.”
Gwaynn shrugged. “It’s your stomach,” he answered.
Jon laughed and clapped him hard on the back. “So it is. So it is.”
X
All day long, Gwaynn kept an eye out for Master Kostek and his students, and even though he spent a good deal of the afternoon wandering the makeshift market alone, he did not spot any of his former companions, nor did he see Leek or his family. As he searched, he found himself at times trying to catch sight of Mille in the crowd, and a sharp pain in his heart always followed.
They stayed the night in Jon’s wagon, despite the fact that they had several offers for much more luxurious arrangements. The wagon suited Gwaynn just fine and he slept well in one of the hammocks placed near the ceiling despite the fact that Jon, located just below him, snored louder than most people could yell.
Gwaynn woke early, and with great difficulty, slipped out of the hammock without falling on Jon, then stepped outside in the crisp morning air. It was overcast and gray, and the damp smell of rain was in the air. Gwaynn frowned, the Competition was due to start around noon and he wondered if it would be called off or delayed, due to the weather. Very few people were up and even fewer were moving around as Gwaynn once again began to stroll about the market. He was used to walking or running first thing in the morning, so without a thought he walked clear through the town and across the river to the western side, where a great many tents were erected. He just crossed the main bridge over the Parm when he saw Leek, holding hands and walking with Mari. His heart lurched and for one brief moment he felt a strange inclination to turn away and hide among the tents before they spotted him, but instead he took a deep breath and made his way in their direction.
“Gwaynn!” Mari yelled when she finally set eyes on him. She pulled her hand free from Leek and ran to Gwaynn, jumping into his arms, hugging him fiercely. She looked and smelled like a little Mille, and he was instantly relieved that he had not turned away from them.
“Have you come to watch the students of Mele compete?” She asked but did not wait for an answer. “We are going to explore the Tent City while Mama cooks breakfast,” she said with a delighted smile, then leaned in close and whispered. “We’re having bacon,” she added and moved her eyebrows up and down several times. “You can come, couldn’t he Grandpa,” Mari implored as Gwaynn put her back on the ground, groaning loudly as he did.
“You must be bigger. You are getting too heavy for me,” Gwaynn told her.
“Gwaynn is always welcome at our table,” Leek said with an actual smile for the boy, and they all continued on with their explorations together. They strolled for a quarter of an hour before a light rain drove them back to the cover of the family tent.
Everyone was thrilled to see him again, though there was an underlying sadness to the meeting. Even Deirdre was subdued and did not attempt to charm him as usual, but the breakfast was nice, and Gwaynn was glad he went.
“Where is Tar Kostek and the students?” he asked Lane, as he prepared to take his leave. They stepped out of the tent, and though Lane was answering him, his words went unnoticed because not a hundred paces away, walking regally through the tent city was King Arsinol Deutzani and trailing just behind him was the Executioner Tar Navarra. Without thinking, Gwaynn made to follow them and was surprised to find that Lane was holding him back. Something of his murderous thoughts must have shown on his face because Lane, though angry and upset himself, only shook his head sadly at Gwaynn.
“It’s him, is it not?” Lane whispered, still holding Gwaynn by the arm.
Gwaynn nodded.
“Not here,” Lane added.
Gwaynn tried to shrug the man off, but Lane, who was strong from years of work, held fast.
“Oh, I would love for you to kill him now, so I can see,” Lane explained, still trying to control the struggling young man. “But for him to die now, you would have to die also…I would not see that.”
Gwaynn finally succeeded in throwing off Lane’s grip and the older man made no move to reestablish his hold. Gwaynn turned.