Yes, she knew what Lucivar was like. A tiger with a sore paw was more agreeable than Yaslana confronted with a stack of paperwork. *It can wait.*
She broke the link and went back to preparing The Tavern for business. A few minutes later, Rainier tapped on the door. He had two loaves of sweet-and-spice bread to serve with the soup, along with some pastries just for her.
Pushing Falonar to the back of her mind, she spent the rest of the day listening to gossip and working with a man whose company she enjoyed.
SIX
It was late afternoon on the following day when Falonar walked into Kohlvar’s workshop to have a private meeting with the men he considered the core group of Eyrien males living around Riada. They nodded a greeting, but no one shifted to attention, ready to take an assignment from him.
Had they already heard he’d been stripped of his position as second-in-command?
“We need to talk about what we want for ourselves and the Eyrien people before Yaslana makes any other decisions for us,” Falonar said.
“Already know what I want,” Hallevar replied. “That’s why I gave him my hand yesterday.”
“We all did,” Rothvar said, tipping his head to indicate the men present.
“You signed a contract with him?” Falonar said, made too off balance by that news to hide his anger.
“Don’t have the paper yet, but we will,” Hallevar said. “We can change our minds if we don’t like the final terms, but from what he said, we’ll still have the eyries we’ve made our homes and a quarterly wage drawn from Lucivar’s share of the tithes, and work that suits us.”
“The way Yaslana rules this valley,” Zaranar said, studying Falonar. “Why does it chew your ass?”
“Because we weren’t born to be tame!” Falonar shouted. “He expects us to be content with training exercises instead of meeting an enemy. By the time he’s through gutting the heart out of what we are, we’ll be nothing but Dhemlans with wings. Look what he’s doing to Endar. A teacher?”
Kohlvar wiped the knife he’d been sharpening on the whetstone and picked up the next one. “Why not? It’s the work Endar wants to do, and here there’s no shame in being a teacher at his age. You’re aristo, and aristos get more schooling than the rest of us. If Lucivar is willing to let all Eyrien youngsters have more schooling than we got, let them have it—especially if it’s something all the other children in this Realm are getting.”
But it belongs to the aristos, Falonar thought. It’s the difference between a good leader on a battlefield and a ruler.
Rothvar fanned his wings, then closed them. “I’ve spilled my share of blood on plenty of killing fields. I’ve been in fights where I’ve killed friends who were on the other side of a line just because some bitch Queen needed the sight of slaughter in order to come. There was no honor in that bloodshed. I’m not against fighting or killing. I was trained to do both, and I’ve done both. But I won’t feel cheated if most days I hone my skills against another man for the fun of it and don’t have to spill blood for someone else’s pleasure.”
Falonar stared at the Warlord guard. Rothvar couldn’t mean that. “You’re willing to accept that?”
Rothvar shrugged. “I guess it’s different for you, not having any court intrigues to deal with. But for us, this life isn’t so different from what we left.”
“Except it’s better,” Zaranar said.
Hallevar nodded in agreement. “I’d like to have a few more youngsters to train. Hell’s fire, I’d even give another try at training a few of the women.”
“I don’t have to wonder if following Lucivar’s orders will soil my honor, and I sleep easier knowing that,” Zaranar said.
“And with Lucivar, you don’t have to wonder whether the person giving you an order will deny it later—especially if there was something dirty about the job—and leave you to be the one to take the punishment.” Rothvar’s expression made it clear that he’d known men who weren’t whole afterward, even if they survived the punishment.
“Lucivar says what he means and means what he says,” Hallevar said. “Straight words, straight work.”
“Guarding Rihlanders,” Falonar sneered.
Zaranar made a crude, angry sound. “Some of us are willing to do the work we agreed to do, and that includes protecting the Rihlander villages, Blood and landen. I heard there was a Jhinka raid on a landen village a few weeks ago, and it was the Rihlander guards from Agio who stepped in and drove the bastards off. The Eyriens in the northern camps should have been patrolling that part of the valley and should have spotted the Jhinka before they reached that village. But they couldn’t stir themselves to raise a bow let alone shoot a single arrow. I won’t blame Lucivar a bit if he tosses every one of those lazy sons of whoring bitches out of the valley.”
“The Rihlanders aren’t used to dealing with Eyriens,” Falonar argued. “If they showed the proper respect, they’d get the help they need.”
“Oh, they’re used to dealing with Eyriens,” Rothvar said. “Just not in daylight. Prothvar Yaslana and a handpicked troop of men used to patrol the northern part of Ebon Rih as well as the Sleeping Dragons at the end of the Khaldharon Run. The Queen’s court might have had more contact with Prothvar himself, but the Eyriens who served him were known to the Blood in Agio, at least to some degree. First time I walked into a tavern there, it was late afternoon and the owner looked confused to see me. Then he offered me a glass of yarbarah. Apparently Lord Yaslana and his men stopped by there on occasion, so the man kept bottles of the blood wine on hand.”
Falonar swallowed his growing disgust. Rothvar and Zaranar were the best fighters among the Warlords Lucivar had brought to Ebon Rih. They should be troop leaders controlling their own portion of the valley, with men under their command.
He ignored the memories of how many men were killed or maimed in fights that started because a troop leader needed to expand his territory—and increase his income—in order to pay his gambling debts.
Then he focused on the knives Kohlvar was sharpening and no longer tried to swallow his disgust. “Hell’s fire, Kohlvar. You made some of the finest weapons in Askavi, and now you’re sharpening kitchen knives?”
“These blades get dull like any other,” Kohlvar replied as he studied the edge of the knife. “Doesn’t hurt my pride to give the women some help, and who would know better than me how to put an edge on a blade?”
“What about your reputation?” Falonar demanded. “You’re a weapons maker. This is menial work. Who did Lucivar have doing it before you?”
“No one. He did it himself.”
And that lack of understanding, of distance, was the reason Lucivar had no business ruling anything, let alone a prime territory like Ebon Rih.
“You’ve been up to the women’s settlement at Doun?” Zaranar asked.
Lucivar had made it clear that no man who wanted to keep his balls went to the settlement without his permission.
Kohlvar shrugged. “Lucivar came by not long ago and asked if I wanted to go with him. I wasn’t busy, so why not? And I was curious.” He looked a little uncomfortable, but he also looked amused. “The man walked in, took a look around, and started scolding the women for hauling things that were too big for them to handle instead of waiting for him to help. And a couple of the women started scrapping right back, saying they had brains and Craft and plenty of hands and didn’t need a penis in order to get things done.”
An uneasy silence. Then Rothvar asked, “What did he do to them?”