Star, Land and Sea

The Falu Tavern wasn't the place for young Apilla, but...

But the Falu Tavern was right for Kyre, in his mood...

True enough, the red-timbered Falu Inn on Foredock Row definitely wasn’t the place for young Apilla, but it was Kyre’s kind of rabble-pit where he could take some liquid relaxation in a corner, mind his own thoughts and listen to gossip and rumours. The changes around town were causing plenty of discussion and splits of opinion among the people. Most were more hopeful and less regretful than the Guilders for the ending of the recent past.

A fight burst out across the other side of the bar: cursing; a flying beaker; shouts; a bench seat turned over. Angry faces and fists. An iron disc, star-edged, thudded into the table next to Kyre’s hand. Taking hold of it, he jerked it from the wood, reading the inscription – Land Sea Star.

He turned it over, and noticed his own forearm… Rua symbols lining up along his inner forearm like a string of winged beads. ‘Eight?  How the scrugg did they get there?’ I’m sure there were four, or was it five? This is definitely a new one. Who’s been near me? Orla? A tavern girl somewhere? One of the Guildswomen?

Surely not? On top of everything else? Apilla? Don’t be stupid, he told himself.

‘That’s my star.’

He looked up; a pock-faced brute of a man in a challenging mood. Almost as wide as the table and uglier than a kipple’s backside, he loomed large over the seated Kyre.

Turning the metal star over again, ‘Land Sea Star,’ he repeated, and proffered it to the reaching man.

‘Star, Land and Sea – get’em right, Mangle-face.’

Kyre let him snatch it away. ‘Manners make man and maid, Poxy.’

Pock-face glared at him in a sneer of sudden anger, ‘You’ve got guts, Mangle. Want’em spilling?’

Leaning back and taking another sip from the pot, ‘If you think you’ve got reason, Poxy, you can try it. If you’re simply spoiling for entertainment, go scrugg one of your friends over there.’ He stared fixedly at Pock-head, watching his chest heaving and fingers flexing around the metal star.

‘You got demon eyes, Mangle. They need ripping out.’ Kyre waited, but Pock-face was still deciding, then stepped back. ‘Star, Land and Sea.’

Kyre nodded back to him, half-expecting a sudden turn and attack. But, after a moment watching him re-join his companions, he returned to his latest Rua-bestowed icons. Counting along his arm from the wrist, ‘This one’s from Li on that first night. And Snota said the next two were hers and Ravena’s. Someone in Athenbridge? Not Graleen. These others?’

He sipped at the sweet and sour ronne that was supposed to ward off the chills – good alongside a beer, they told him, but he’d yet to feel the same warmth that a bedmate would have supplied. Sighing, he peered at the symbols. All slightly different. Number five? with its wings upraised? From a Rua assignment? Rubbing at them didn’t provide any answers. ‘This highest one is definitely new, since arriving in Buckto.

‘Actually,’ he reflected, after a particularly large swig, ‘the ronne is very warming inside—

--'Ahh,' seeing his aggressive new drinking acquaintance heading his way, 'Pock-face is determined on bother, is he? Complete with his pack...'

Kyre's kind of place... not Apilla's

A morsel from "Lord of Tyre"