Blood of the Red

Chapter 20 - Dain

"Just one of many bad habits I'm still trying to shake, Victor," Ingold smiled. "And Handelf may have had my brothers slain, but he most certainly did not confirm the inheritance that change in succession brought me."

"Nonetheless." Victor plucked the pins from his mouth and deftly fixed his work in place, "The king's own hand has raised you to the station, bloody or not, intended or not."

"That's what I like about you, Victor. I come in for a yard of cloth and a few stitches, and I get a lordship. Always the unexpected!" Ingold released the checked cloth and executed a bow. "I plan to look in on your brother later, so if you've any message for him?"

"A message for Gartus?" The little man waved a hand, "As if my little brother would listen! Tell him . . . tell him to dress warmly."

The tailor slipped from his stool and came toward them, pushing aside a stand of satin bows. Dain watched in fascination. He's no taller than I am. There's something else, different, something not right.

"And what can I do for you today? The young gentleman requires another jerkin? I've seldom seen one so abused.

"And why," Victor turned his head, "does he keep staring at me so?"

"I can't see you." The ale had Dain's tongue.

Victor regarded him with curiosity, close now, his eyes exerting a pull. "Staring at me because you can't see me? Now there's a thing!"

"It's gone," Dain blurted. "Your aura is gone!"

Victor shot him a knowing look, then turned to face Ingold. "I can smell beer on the boy. Ingold Stannith, you've been corrupting the youth again. Gods know you misspent your own, and now you're leading this child down a dissolute path."

The tailor put a bony hand on Dain's shoulder and spoke in conspirator's whispers, "When he was your age Ingold would come in here with Jamus of Rike to be fitted with court clothes. They ran me ragged! One time Jamus brought a rat with him and Ingold brought a snake. The seamstresses were climbing the shelves."

"It wasn't a snake!" Ingold protested, "It was a scale-worm, harmless! The bite isn't even venomous."

Victor didn't look old enough to have served when Ingold was a child. Another mystery for Dain. The gnome rummaged in a drawer and produced a tray of brass buttons, a thousand or more, buttons of every size and design, gleaming and bright.

"Buttons! The most important part of any garment. Choose the right buttons, the rest is child's play." He gave the tray to Dain. "Make your choice, young sir."

The first button Dain drew was a quartered-circle. He pulled another at random. A quartered-circle! From the corner of his eye he saw Victor reach up for Ingold's elbow and steer him into the corner. Dain fished blindly among the buttons, straining to hear their conversation. Only Victor's voice reached him.

"He has the sight. He knew me for an old-blood."

"Worry about your own safety, Ingold Stannith. I am not the only man in Narvil who will recognise you."

"It is written, 'Old eyes in new blood', there is change coming. This child . . . is the key? I cannot see so clearly now. The boy and a key. I see them together."

"Where is it written? On the stones of course! On the stones."

They returned to him and Dain held out the first button he had drawn. Victor favoured him with an arched eyebrow, and took the button. "I'll have a jerkin, trews and a cloak ready by nightfall. A moment if you please, I'll jot down the measurements." He took slate and stylus from his desk and scratched his numbers.

"But . . . you didn't measure me," said Dain.

Those dark deep eyes again. "Oh, but I did."

Victor finished his scratching and looked up. "Still here, my Lord of Stannith?"

Ingold made no move to go. He folded his arms and fixed the little tailor with his stare. Victor threw up his hands. "If you must, you must! I say to you Ingold, as one who saw you grow, who saw you happy and has rued your sadness - put this thing aside. It will destroy you."

Ingold shook his head. "It is all that has sustained me, old friend."

The tiny man went behind a curtain to the side of the box-shelves. From the time he spent it was clear another room lay beyond. At length he returned with a burden as tall as he. The oil-cloth wrapped about it could not disguise the outlines of the sword. Ingold took the parcel and unbound it with a reverence Dain had not seen in him before. Twenty turns and the sword lay revealed. The scabbard looked plain enough but the rubies on the pommel gave the lie to that. Four rubies, deepest red, almost black, set into iron. Gold wire bound the hilt and the guard rose like raven wings, scrolled with runes.

"The Sword of the Rike. Jamus bore this blade, and none before him wielded it so well. I thank you for keeping it safe, Victor." Ingold strapped the scabbard to his belt. "And I will put aside my vengeance. When Handelf's head lies at my feet."

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