Read Online Yesterday's Kings by Angus Wells - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angus Wells
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celebrate his purchase.”
They drank well, and ate better, and as the inn closed Cullyn felt wrapped in the comfort of good friends, and—as before—more than a little merry. Indeed, when he rose, he watched the room revolve slowly around him, and had to clutch at a chair to stay on his feet. He looked for Elvira, anticipating, but she was nowhere in sight. And when he asked, Martia said, “She’s gone with a friend,” and Andrias clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I doubt you’d be up to her this night. Best find your bed and sleep, eh?”
Cullyn felt disappointed and relieved at the same time. He swayed a while until Andrias set a hand on his shoulder and helped him to his chamber, where he collapsed onto the bed and fell instantly into troubled sleep.
He dreamed of Elvira, and of Fey, and Lofantyl, and Abra, and they were all mixed up together in confusions that had him tossing and turning, so that he wrapped the sheets around himself and thought he was entrapped. And at some point in the long night he vomited into the chamber pot, and then slept more peacefully until dawn and the stirring of the inn woke him.
His head ached then, and the sun coming in through the windows hurt his eyes; his mouth was parched, but he’d drunk all the water in the room, which now stank of his vomit. So he struggled into his clothes and went, embarrassed, to the yard, where he ducked his head under the well pump and swallowed copious mouthfuls of fresh water.
The sun was not long up, but at this time of year italready filled the sky with light, and birds chorused a welcome that sent splintery shards of sound through Cullyn’s head. The clanging of the kitchen pots did him no good, and it was worse when he saw Elvira emerge from the kitchen.
Her hair was tousled, and she smiled when she saw him.
“You slept well?”
He shook his head—and wished he’d not. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish …”
“You lost your chance,” she told him.
“But … perhaps … I hoped …”
She looked him in the eyes. “I’d have been with you, had you not been more interested in that horse.”
“I need a horse,” he said.
“And I need a husband, or someone to protect me. Do you think I want to live here all my life? Serving tables, and … well, the rest?”
Cullyn shook his head. “You could live with me.”
“In the forest?” She shook her head in turn. “No.”
It was what Martia and Andrias had told him, so he looked at her and gave up all his wonderings, and said, “Goodbye.”
Elvira nodded and bussed his cheek. “Goodbye,” she answered, and went back inside the tavern.
Cullyn went to the stables, where Fey met him with an anxious stare. The horse rolled its eyes as he approached its stall. The stallion’s ears flattened and its lips came back off big teeth. Cullyn leaned against the bars, murmuring softly, and after a while the horse calmed and stretched out its head so that he might stroke it. He breathed into the velvet nostrils, and rubbed at the muscled neck. He felt a kinship with this wild horse.
He saw the grain basket filled and went into the inn, where Martia served him breakfast, and Andrias asked when he might deliver the promised deer.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Another month? Perhaps sooner.”
He could see Elvira serving a merchant, who smiled at her and touched her in a familiar way, and wondered if he felt jealous.
“When you can,” Andrias said.
“The sooner the better.” He did not like the way Elvira served the merchant. He knew he had no right to resent it, but even so, he could not help it. So he finished his breakfast quickly and said, “I’ll be gone now. And bring you back that deer.”
He went out to the stables and found his cart. He loaded the tack he’d bought and brought his new horse out of the stall. Fey came willingly enough until Cullyn set the saddle on his back and hiked up the traps of the cart.
Then Fey began to buck, and in moments the cart
They drank well, and ate better, and as the inn closed Cullyn felt wrapped in the comfort of good friends, and—as before—more than a little merry. Indeed, when he rose, he watched the room revolve slowly around him, and had to clutch at a chair to stay on his feet. He looked for Elvira, anticipating, but she was nowhere in sight. And when he asked, Martia said, “She’s gone with a friend,” and Andrias clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I doubt you’d be up to her this night. Best find your bed and sleep, eh?”
Cullyn felt disappointed and relieved at the same time. He swayed a while until Andrias set a hand on his shoulder and helped him to his chamber, where he collapsed onto the bed and fell instantly into troubled sleep.
He dreamed of Elvira, and of Fey, and Lofantyl, and Abra, and they were all mixed up together in confusions that had him tossing and turning, so that he wrapped the sheets around himself and thought he was entrapped. And at some point in the long night he vomited into the chamber pot, and then slept more peacefully until dawn and the stirring of the inn woke him.
His head ached then, and the sun coming in through the windows hurt his eyes; his mouth was parched, but he’d drunk all the water in the room, which now stank of his vomit. So he struggled into his clothes and went, embarrassed, to the yard, where he ducked his head under the well pump and swallowed copious mouthfuls of fresh water.
The sun was not long up, but at this time of year italready filled the sky with light, and birds chorused a welcome that sent splintery shards of sound through Cullyn’s head. The clanging of the kitchen pots did him no good, and it was worse when he saw Elvira emerge from the kitchen.
Her hair was tousled, and she smiled when she saw him.
“You slept well?”
He shook his head—and wished he’d not. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish …”
“You lost your chance,” she told him.
“But … perhaps … I hoped …”
She looked him in the eyes. “I’d have been with you, had you not been more interested in that horse.”
“I need a horse,” he said.
“And I need a husband, or someone to protect me. Do you think I want to live here all my life? Serving tables, and … well, the rest?”
Cullyn shook his head. “You could live with me.”
“In the forest?” She shook her head in turn. “No.”
It was what Martia and Andrias had told him, so he looked at her and gave up all his wonderings, and said, “Goodbye.”
Elvira nodded and bussed his cheek. “Goodbye,” she answered, and went back inside the tavern.
Cullyn went to the stables, where Fey met him with an anxious stare. The horse rolled its eyes as he approached its stall. The stallion’s ears flattened and its lips came back off big teeth. Cullyn leaned against the bars, murmuring softly, and after a while the horse calmed and stretched out its head so that he might stroke it. He breathed into the velvet nostrils, and rubbed at the muscled neck. He felt a kinship with this wild horse.
He saw the grain basket filled and went into the inn, where Martia served him breakfast, and Andrias asked when he might deliver the promised deer.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Another month? Perhaps sooner.”
He could see Elvira serving a merchant, who smiled at her and touched her in a familiar way, and wondered if he felt jealous.
“When you can,” Andrias said.
“The sooner the better.” He did not like the way Elvira served the merchant. He knew he had no right to resent it, but even so, he could not help it. So he finished his breakfast quickly and said, “I’ll be gone now. And bring you back that deer.”
He went out to the stables and found his cart. He loaded the tack he’d bought and brought his new horse out of the stall. Fey came willingly enough until Cullyn set the saddle on his back and hiked up the traps of the cart.
Then Fey began to buck, and in moments the cart
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