CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

By the time six o’clock came around, Gantalla was exhausted. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon demonstrating the heart restarter to the hospital staff, using a wadded up bundle of blankets as her ‘patient’, and then they’d all practiced giving breaths into a water skin. Gantalla had been at pains to point out – more than once – that the technique didn’t work all the time. The heart had to have stopped very recently, and if there were other injuries or a severe loss of blood, the likelihood of the method working fell dramatically. Nonetheless, the doctors had all been very impressed, calling it the greatest advancement in medical treatment for a decade or more.

She’d felt a slight unease early in the afternoon, realising that her plans to leave town had been cancelled for yet another day, but all things considered, she couldn’t feel too upset about it. A five year old boy was alive because of her, and his mother had thanked her profusely, before finally being allowed to take her son home with her – with a strict warning to watch what he put in his mouth from now on.

Tired but happy, Gantalla was about to leave the hospital and head back to the festival when one of the nurses stopped her.

“Gantalla? Wait a moment. I have something for you.” Gantalla turned around. On the whole, the nurses had seemed friendly. The older ones could be a little severe, while the youngest were still nervous over their role in treating patients, but they’d been practical and honest – a welcome change from the silliness of the serving women at the festival.

“What is it?” she asked the nurse rushing after her – a middle-aged woman named Henrietta. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a plain brown shirt and trousers, much like most of the nurses here.

“Doctor Samuel asked me to give you this.” Henrietta held out a small pouch. Gantalla took it, tugging open the drawstring to look inside. But she was stunned as she poured the contents into her hand and realised it contained ten small coins.

“That’s the standard wage for a day’s work for the nurses,” Henrietta said.

Gantalla’s jaw dropped. “You want to pay me? But I’m not a nurse. I don’t have any training. I didn’t even see any patients.”

“You saved a boy’s life,” Henrietta said with a smile. “I think that’s worth a few coins, don’t you?”

Gantalla couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “Thank you.” Money. Coins of her own, with which she could buy more clothes, or food, or whatever else she saw fit. “Thank you so much.”

“We’d be more than happy to have you back again, if you’re interested. Gladys is going to have her baby soon, so we’ll have a place for a new nurse. And everyone thinks you’d do well here.”

Gantalla didn’t quite know what to say to that. She’d been planning on leaving early in the morning…

But perhaps if she could get regular work at the hospital, she wouldn’t even need to leave? The original problem had been that she needed to earn money. And if she could stay in town, but avoid the need to sell her body to any of the warriors, that solved the problem, didn’t it?

“I’ll think about it,” she said, not willing to make any commitments without at least weighing up her options. “But it’s a tempting idea.”

Henrietta smiled. “Just let us know, whenever you decide. But you’d be most welcome.”

Gantalla let herself out, then crossed the road, heading for the town square. A job? Money? Dignity? It seemed almost too good to be true.

“Gantalla!” A booming voice called her name, and she turned… and then cursed herself a moment later as she saw Hallix striding towards her. She should have just headed in the opposite direction. The huge oaf was dressed in a fine tunic, with a fur thrown over his shoulders, though the night wasn’t particularly cold. His hair hung in bushy waves and his beard was thick. Both could have used a good trim. By Chalandrian standards, Gantalla thought he looked more like a desert shrub than a man, covered in fuzz the way he was.

“There you are!” Hallix said, too loud even though they were outside and in a crowd. “I lost you last night. Oh, but…” He stopped, looking her over. “You’re not dressed for the festival yet.”

“No, I spent the afternoon at the hospital. Teaching the nurses how to restart someone’s heart.”

Hallix looked baffled for a moment, then laughed, as if she’d said something funny. “Did you indeed. Well, that’s a fine way to spend your time.” Did he think she’d been joking? “But how about you nip off and get dressed. That black lace number from last night has been stuck in my head all day.”

For a moment, Gantalla considered doing just that, if only as an excuse to get away from the man… but then she reconsidered. “Actually, I think I’m fine with what I’m wearing now.” She was in her green blouse and her old trousers, with her new boots still on her feet. And now that she had a new job on the horizon, even if she decided to stay in town, she no longer needed to cater to these arrogant louts.

For a moment, Hallix looked disappointed. Then he grinned. “Well, how about we get some food into you, then? You need a bit more meat on your bones.” He slapped her ass, then slung his heavy arm over her shoulder, steering her towards the food table. It was only their destination that had Gantalla deciding to go with him, rather than thinking of another excuse to slip away. She hadn’t had a chance to eat anything all afternoon, and her stomach was growling. And though she’d earned a few coins today, she wasn’t going to turn down free food.

“I really need to go and find Nalyx,” she said, as she loaded up her plate with meat and bread. This time, she dared to try some of the vegetables as well. She still didn’t know what they were, but sooner or later, she’d have to find out, so she may as well start tasting them now. “I promised him I’d help him eat dinner.” She hadn’t, but if she had to spend the evening with someone, she’d rather it be Nalyx. While he’d given her a thorough ogling while they were in the bath, he hadn’t actually tried to touch her, which was a big step up from Hallix.

But the warrior beside her just laughed again, though she caught a fleeting scowl cross his face. “Nalyx will be fine. He always has a bevy of young women hovering around him. I’m sure one of them can help him eat.”

The instant Hallix’s plate was full, his arm was back around her shoulder, and he steered her towards one of the tables set up around the square. But as he set his plate down, he suddenly turned, giving a loud cry. “Ho! Henrick!” he boomed, waving his arm in the air. “Come and sit! I haven’t seen you all day, little brother.”

Gantalla turned to see another man, who looked a mirror image of Hallix, crossing the square towards them, with Fin tucked neatly under his arm. But in contrast to Gantalla being forcibly shoved about by Hallix, Fin looked entirely happy about being there. She was beaming up at Henrick, her own plate of food clutched in her hands.

“Little, my ass,” Henrick said, slapping Hallix on the back. “I could beat you at sword fighting, wrestling and poker, all in the same night.”

Gantalla sat down on the bench beside the table, managing a smile for Fin. As for the blustering and boasting of the two men, she decided to simply ignore it. Only the gods knew why these so called warriors needed to have a pissing contest about every little thing. Even Nalyx had been no better, determined to convince her that he’d nearly killed that damned unicorn.

“This is Henrick,” Fin said, as she sat down opposite Gantalla. “They’re twins,” she added, as if Gantalla couldn’t tell. She set her plate down and nearly missed the edge of the table, which made Gantalla suddenly reassess her almost-friend. It looked like she’d been hitting the wine early this evening. And Henrick, too, from the redness of his face.

“Hallix was born two minutes earlier,” Fin told her, in a loud whisper, and perhaps that little detail – two minutes worth of time, when they were only just learning to breathe – was the cause of the apparent rivalry between them now?

Hallix took his own seat on the bench beside Gantalla, sitting close enough that his thigh was pressed up against hers. She shifted over to give him more room, but Hallix merely followed her, until she risked falling off the bench if she tried to move any further.

Resigned to having half her thigh crushed by a tree-trunk, Gantalla tucked into her meal.

“You look like you’ve been at the tailor’s today,” Fin said to Hallix, raising an eyebrow at his new tunic. “Yorin does some fine work.”

Hallix snorted. “Yorin’s a little twig I could snap with one hand. Knobbly little man. I think he had his balls accidentally removed as a child. But fuck me, he makes the finest clothes in the whole city. Would you believe this cost me three silver coins? Half price, he told me it was, but aren’t we supposed to earn some sort of gratitude for all the work we do defending the gate? The bloody nerve of the man, charging me three coins. Three silver coins. Not bloody coppers.”

“Perhaps he’s merely trying to pay for his own expenses,” Gantalla suggested. “Fabric doesn’t make itself, after all.” She stabbed her fork into one of the vegetables, long, thin and green, and nibbled on the end. It didn’t taste too bad.

“Speaking of fabric, I rather like the way your blouse falls off your shoulder so delectably,” Hallix said, running a finger over her bare shoulder as he changed the subject. “I wasn’t convinced at first, but on reflection, I think this is a fine choice for the evening. And I have to thank you for introducing me to this gorgeous lady,” Hallix said to Fin. “I was getting rather tired of the same old dish every time. But this one… I dare say she could keep me satisfied for a long time. Look at this hair.” He ran his hand through her locks, while Gantalla forced herself to sit still. Maybe she should have stayed at the hospital tonight, instead.

But before Hallix could make any more comments, another voice interrupted them – a far gentler one than Hallix’s thundering boom.

“Ah, there you are,” Elria said, shuffling over towards the table, her wrinkled face scrunched up in a toothy grin. She was wearing a satin dress in a deep blue this evening, clearly an expensive garment, though it hung poorly on her due to her hunched back and lopsided gait. “See? I told you you’d end up sticking around a bit longer.” She sounded altogether too smug about it, and Gantalla once again wished she’d ditched the old woman back in the forest, before she’d ever set foot in this town. “What did I say? Find a nice, handsome warrior, and you could end up with a husband before too long.” Elria winked at Hallix, and Gantalla longed to tell her to shut up. The man had enough ideas about her already without Elria adding to them. “Oh, but you don’t have your festival clothes on,” Elria said, noticing her outfit, and Gantalla wondered why everyone was so fixated on what she was wearing. She’d been trying to avoid attention with her plainer clothes, not attract more of it. “Fin, you did show her the dresses, didn’t you?”

“I most certainly did,” Fin said.

“Last night, she looked a right treat,” Hallix said, smirking down at her and waggling his eyebrows. “Black satin and lace. Just right to show off her… attributes.”

“Well, at least you got yourself some boots,” Elria said, sniffing haughtily. “You were so very keen on a pair of boots.”

“Nalyx rather liked that blouse as well,” Gantalla said, deliberately poking at Hallix’s inevitable jealousy. “He was kind enough to let me spend the night in his room.”

Elria broke into a hearty cackle. “Did he, now? Well, Hallix, it looks like you’ve got yourself some competition. Though if I were you, I’d stick with this one,” Elria said, patting Hallix fondly on the shoulder. “He’s got a few years on Nalyx, and he’s killed a hefty share of demons. But Nalyx is handsome enough, I suppose.”

“The man’s an amateur,” Hallix growled. He placed a meaty hand on Gantalla’s thigh. “Pissing about with women and whisky. Most cycles, he barely manages to get his ass into the training ring.” As opposed to Hallix, who was currently doing his best to woo Gantalla into bed, and drowning his woes in a mountainous cup of beer.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Gantalla asked Elria. “You should come and join us.” Having her around would at the very least provide a small buffer between her and Hallix’s licentious comments, and if she was lucky, she might get to learn more about the town. Elria seemed to be a fountain of local knowledge.

“I think I might just do that,” Elria said. “Let me get myself a plate, and I’ll be right back.”

An hour and a half later, Gantalla’s intuition had been proved right. She’d carefully steered the conversation to more amiable topics, asking about the local businesses, the farms dotted around the outskirts of the town, and noted the names of several of the warriors who were already married. If she was forced to spend more time with them – though she intended to avoid it as much as possible – then it might help to gravitate towards those who would be more interested in her practical skills, rather than the size of her bosom.

Finally, though, she decided she’d had enough of Hallix’s hand on her leg and his lips on her neck. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to say goodnight,” she said, standing up and having to be a little bit forceful about it when Hallix tried to keep her in her seat. “With his hands all bandaged up, Nalyx is going to have trouble getting ready for bed, and I promised I’d give him a hand.” She sent a wink Elria’s way, knowing that Hallix would see it as well.

“Why are you bothering with that weak little upstart?” Hallix asked, abandoning the last of his efforts to overlook her interest in him. “I’m the one who killed a unicorn. You seriously want to waste your time with that two-bit loser?”

Summoning all the attitude of her royal station, Gantalla raised an eyebrow at him. If he was determined to be rude about it, then she could do the same. “Well, actually, the way I hear it, Nalyx did most of the work. You just finished it off.”

Hallix’s mouth fell open. Fin gave a nervous chuckle, while Henrick laughed out loud. “She’s got you there, big brother,” he said with a smirk, and Gantalla didn’t wait around to hear what Hallix’s retort might be. She set off across the square, not even bothering to care whether Nalyx would be in his room or not – or whether he might already have company. Anything was better than sitting here getting pawed at by this boorish lout.

◊          ◊          ◊

Lying in bed and cursing his decision to chase after that hell-damned unicorn, Nalyx willed the whisky he’d drunk to start kicking in so that he could fall asleep. It was still relatively early in the night, but he’d run out of patience with the festival, writing the evening off as a monumental disaster. He’d spent an hour trying to persuade any of the serving women to actually help him eat anything – without more than token success – and had then been subjected to another crude attempt by Liatra to give him a lap dance. But the young woman remained oblivious to his injuries, jarring his shoulder repeatedly, then grabbing his hands, scraping the still-healing skin underneath and causing him to toss her roughly off his lap. But even that hadn’t been enough to deter her.

“Oh, your poor thing,” she’d said, her pout full of poorly-mustered sympathy. “How about I take you back to your room and we can try something else to make you feel better.” She tugged her top down another inch, displaying her generous cleavage.

That, at least, had been a welcome offer. Nalyx grinned. “I’d gladly have you there. But we might have to get a little creative, given the… limitations.” He held up his hands again, hoping she’d finally get the message. But at the same time, he gave her a sly wink. “But if you don’t mind doing some of the work, I’m sure I could make it worth your while.”

Liatra’s pout had turned darker, affronted disappointment replacing any semblance of compassion. “Oh. You mean you couldn’t…?” She eyed his hands, as if just now realising what his injuries meant. “Well, that’s no fun.” She sighed and tugged her top up again. “Let me know when your hands have healed. You’re not much use to me until then.” With that, she’d flounced away, heading straight for Calium and the cluster of young warriors he was drinking with.

Gods above, how had he never realised just how useless the girl was? Pissed off and more frustrated than ever, Nalyx slunk off to his room, determined to at least get some rest, if the evening held nothing else of value.

Now, he turned over in his wide bed, wincing as the movement sent a stabbing pain through his shoulder. After only a minute or two, he turned back again, unable to stand the pressure on his aching wound. A soft knock sounded, but he ignored it. Most likely it was a woman seeking entrance to the room next door, which only served to remind him how long it had been since he’d had a woman of his own. With his hands wrapped, he couldn’t even manage to jerk himself off. Just one more thing that was making this one of the worst festivals he’d ever endured.

So he was surprised when his own door opened, letting a shaft of light in from the distant lanterns. “Nalyx?”

“Gantalla?” Her figure was shadowed in the doorway, but he was sure it was her. She was taller than most of the women, and her long, black hair was unique among the blondes and browns of most of the townsfolk.

“Thank goodness.” She slipped into the room, closing the door. “Do you have a lamp? I can’t see a thing.”

“Yeah, it’s here…” He reached out very carefully, lest he knock the thing off the stand, and managed to turn up the wick. Gantalla was standing by the door, a rough bundle in her hands. “What are you doing here?” When there had been no sign of her at the festival, he’d hazarded a guess that she’d ended up leaving town, after all.

Gantalla gave a heartfelt sigh. “That depends who you ask. But let’s keep it simple. I brought you dinner.” She pulled the cloth off the top of her package, and Nalyx groaned in pleasure as he saw what was underneath. “I guessed you might have had a hard time getting anything to eat.” She was holding a plate piled high with meat and bread, with a slice of some sort of fruit pie tucked into the side.

“You’re an absolute gem,” he said, shuffling around until he was sitting up in bed. She sat down on the edge of it and began feeding him, making no comment about either his inability to do it himself or the fact that he was in bed far earlier that might have been expected. “Thank you,” he said, in between bites. “When I didn’t see you at the festival, I thought…”

“I got a bit side-tracked,” Gantalla said, focusing on the plate. “Things went well at the hospital, though. The doctors were all very impressed.”

Nalyx could recognise a diversion when he saw one, but given how the evening had gone for him, he wasn’t inclined to press her for details. “They have a good reason to be. What you did today was incredible.”

Gantalla blushed in the dim light, but the small smile on her face said she was pleased with the compliment. “It’s nice to know how to do something useful.” A wistful look came over her. “Growing up with a wealthy father, I was spoiled a lot. And until recently, I never thought about that too much. But the people here have so many wonderful talents. The nurses at the hospital, and these boots are just amazing.” She held up one foot. “I’ve been wearing them all day, and I don’t have any blisters from the leather rubbing. Whoever made them is a genius. And someone was telling me about Yorin, earlier – one of the tailors in town. I haven’t met him, but he makes some exquisite clothes. When I arrived, I felt like I didn’t have anything to offer. It feels good to have done something worthwhile today.”

She was such a contrast to the other women. Most of them spent their days flirting and making themselves look pretty, and the token amount of ‘work’ they put in wasn’t exactly difficult – fetching new clothes from the tailors for the warriors or putting ribbons up around the square. To be fair, that was largely what the warriors expected of them, and most of the men were more than happy to have someone on hand to give them a massage or help them bathe. But to see someone take pride in a real skill was refreshing.

“Oh, but I have something else for you.” Gantalla pulled another object out of the bundle she’d brought with her, then held it up, and Nalyx grinned as he saw the bottle of whisky. “I’d suggest you don’t try to drink the whole bottle this time,” she said, with a wry smirk. “But I thought you’d appreciate a cup or two.”

“You’re amazing,” he said, knowing the words were inadequate. “Thank you. For everything.”

◊          ◊          ◊

The minutes trickled by as Gantalla continued to feed Nalyx his dinner. And then she poured him a cup of whisky, and feeling whimsical, one for herself. Nalyx sat back in bed, carefully arranging a pillow to cushion his shoulder – still bandaged, and from his occasional wince, still causing him some pain. But a moment later, he sat up again. “Could I ask a favour?” he said. He glanced down at his legs. “Could you help me take my pants off? I couldn’t get them undone and sleeping in them isn’t particularly comfortable.”

It was only then that Gantalla realised he was still wearing them. He’d removed his shirt – whether by himself or with someone’s help, she wasn’t sure – but the buttons on his pants would have been too difficult with his bandaged hands. And the fact that no one had bothered to unbutton them for him suggested that he’d had to struggle through taking his shirt off himself as well.

Gantalla felt an uncomfortable stab of sympathy for him. She still didn’t particularly want to be empathising with this hoard of murderers, but where the hell were all these supposed serving women when one of the warriors actually needed help with something? They’d seen he was injured and just abandoned him because he wasn’t fitting in with their pompous expectations anymore?

But it wasn’t only her dismay about the serving women that had Gantalla hesitating. All through his meal, she’d been trying her hardest to not notice Nalyx’s lack of a shirt. By the gods, he had a fine body. She’d done a passable job of maintaining her composure during his bath that morning, but seeing him unclothed had driven the point home of just why so many young women were loitering about, willing to throw themselves into these men’s beds. The King’s Guard, back home in her father’s palace, had been some of the finest men the hadathmet had to offer, and even they would have paled in comparison to Nalyx. Hadathmet men just weren’t as large, or as strong. The body before her displayed rock hard muscles, a fine dusting of hair over his chest… and below the waist, his erection – yes, she had noticed this morning, for all that she’d tried to pretend she hadn’t – had been thick, long enough to ignite a woman’s fantasies, without being too large.

And now he wanted her to strip him naked again? Okay, it was only so that he could sleep comfortably, but…

Nalyx winced, picking up on her hesitation. “Sorry, I don’t mean anything by it,” he apologised. “I just can’t do it myself.”

For a split second, Gantalla wished that he had meant something by it, some sly invitation of a similar sort to the ones he’d made that morning in the bath. She hadn’t missed the way his gaze had lingered on her breasts, and she was fairly sure that if she’d been willing, he would have been more than happy to…

But she’d apparently done such a good job of putting him off that he now wasn’t even going to bother.

And that was a good thing, Gantalla reminded herself firmly, as she stood up. She had no intention of jumping into bed with any human, and least of all one who dedicated his life to murdering her own kind. “Of course I can help,” she said, managing a smile that was more or less genuine. “Hop out of bed. And tell me you at least managed to take your boots off?”

Nalyx smiled wryly. “I did, though it took a bit of effort.” He stood up, standing still with his hands lifted out of the way. Gantalla undid his belt and the buttons on his trousers, then slid them down his legs, letting him lean on her shoulder as he stepped out of them.

He slid back into bed quickly, letting Gantalla fold the trousers and set them over the back of a chair. Then she set the plate and bottle of whisky aside and handed Nalyx his cup. She sat down on the side of the bed again, ostensibly to resume their conversation… but she also had another, more serious problem on her mind. “Um, I was wondering…”

“Hm?” He was watching her closely, though attempting to seem relaxed at the same time. But his erection beneath the sheets was making a little tent. Nalyx seemed determined to ignore it, so Gantalla did the same.

“Would you mind if I spend the night here again?” Gantalla asked. “I don’t have anywhere else to go at the moment, and…” She hoped she didn’t sound too desperate.

“Of course,” Nalyx agreed easily. “I don’t mind at all.” Gantalla waited for the inevitable suggestive invitation, and was almost disappointed when it didn’t come.

She eyed the spare pillow, sitting next to Nalyx, and then glanced at the rug. “Do you mind if I borrow a blanket?” As she’d noted the night before, the rug wasn’t the best place she’d ever slept, but it was far better than curling up in a corner outside.

But Nalyx was frowning at her. “What? Why would you…? Oh, gods, no. You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” he said, catching onto her train of thought.

Gantalla steadfastly refused to so much as glance at the tent of his erection. “I’m not… um… I mean…”

“If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t,” Nalyx said. Gantalla dared to meet his eyes, surprised to see that he was completely serious. She didn’t know what to make of that. Hallix’s hands had been all over her, and plenty of other warriors had felt entitled to have a bit of a grope the night before. And while Nalyx had been a more respectful sort so far, she was certain that climbing into bed with a man who was already naked would be sending all the wrong signals.

“The bed is big enough for us both,” Nalyx went on, as she continued to hesitate. “And it’s a lot more comfortable. There’s no reason for you to sleep on the floor.” To make his point, he shuffled over, leaving plenty of room for her beside him.

He had a valid point; it was a big bed.

“I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He held up his bandaged hands, amusement curving his lips.

Gantalla couldn’t help but smiled at that. “Okay, fine,” she agreed finally. Her shirt from this morning was dry now, hung up over the window where she’d left it this morning, so she set her cup down and turned around, then tugged her blouse over her head. She pulled the shirt on, then slid her trousers off, the shirt keeping Nalyx from getting a view of anything he wasn’t supposed to.

She came back to the bed and slid beneath the covers… and gods, yes, this was far better than the floor.

“Thank you,” she said, as she picked up her cup, settling in for a quiet chat before they both fell asleep. “You’re turning out to be quite unexpected.”

“Likewise,” Nalyx said. He held up his cup awkwardly. “To new adventures,” he said, with a look that said he wasn’t quite sure what to expect next.

Gantalla tapped the edge of her cup against his. “To new adventures. And to new friends.”