A Scoundrel's Song

9

Even though the Driadin man stood almost half Niico's size, he still appeared to loom over Niico. Great, grey muscles rippled in a way completely distinct from the way Akafa's muscles rippled. Instead of a glorious show of bodily perfection, Goruktyun's muscles looked about ready to tear bodily perfection to pieces and spit on them. The Driadin glared at Niico and Niico wondered if his longer legs could carry him away faster than anyone else, leaving them to deal with whatever violence were about to ensue.

"They're so cute!" A little voice, from behind Akafa, squealed in delight as Herit poked his head around his brother. "They're as small as me!"

At first, Niico expected the forest of spears to fly through the air, to strike down the boy and his protective sibling. Instead, Goruktyun roared with laughter, relaxed and walked toward Niico, tears forming in his eyes as he laughed. Then he punched Niico in the stomach and crouched over him as Niico fell to the ground, fighting for breath.

"That is for the goats." Goruktyun patted Niico's back, rubbing it to help air return to his lungs before rising. "Get up. Tekhiyen and the children haven't seen you in months, you worthless thief."

"Goruk. So good to see you again." Pelenia, showing no solidarity with Niico whatsoever, leaned down and gave Goruktyun a healthy embrace. "In Niico's defence, he's not a thief. Just a terrible confidence man."

No matter how it appeared, Niico knew these people for who they were. Violent, abusive, prone to shouting. Not only toward him, but to each other. They only reserved their most vicious attacks for him. Or so it seemed to Niico. He could see them, even now, striking each other, seemingly in jest, as a frolic, but Niico knew better. They were nasty, evil creatures and, just because they may feed him and give him somewhere to stay and consider him, marginally, as a friend, didn't mean they wouldn't kill him at the first opportunity.

The others had already begun to follow the Driadin hunting band, leaving Niico to push himself to his feet without aid. One pair of Driadin took to the wagon, guiding it with expertise over stones that would have given even Pel trouble, around a stand of rocks, to disappear from sight. They'd probably eat the horse and Niico hadn't even named it.

"And then, after he had failed to beat Ikrtan, the lowliest of our child warriors, Niico the Trickster had the gall to say Ikrtan had cheated. A child of the Maknun Driadin, cheating! Well, of course, he had to suffer a beating for that." Goruktyun had his hand on Akafa's back and the big Orususk man laughed at the tale. Laughed! "Niico the Trickster has suffered many beatings over the years. He never learns."

"Tell them about the time Niico thought he could sell you a ship!" Pelenia clapped her hands before linking her arms around Goruktyun's enormous biceps. "Driadin do not leave their mountains. What need have they for a ship?"

Niico trudged behind them all, listening to them belittle him, berate him in his near absence and, generally, talk about him as though he were nothing but a fool to scoff at. Even Antioni looked with eager eyes as Goruktyun regaled them with the tale of the ship. It was a fine ship. With that ship, the Maknun Driadin could have exported their precious minerals across the world, for a small fee to Niico, of course.

That the ship was not, technically, Niico's to sell was only a minor wrinkle in the opportunity that would have made them all rich beyond imagining, but, if nothing else, Driadin had no ambition. They preferred their mountain homes, as Pel had intimated. Or outright stated. Parochial, short-sighted and poor. And violent. So very violent. The others would learn as such before long. Niico had only survived previous encounters by the skin of his perfect, blinding white teeth. Teeth that he preferred to remain within his mouth. And not crooked from stray punches. They did that. A lot. Punching.