Bloodkin (Jaseth of Jaelshead) (5 page)

Gina!

I love my Gina!

I love her, yeah yeah

When she gives me that stuff

I just drink it all up

I love it when she gives me

Her wonderful love

Gina!

When she finished she bowed at the hearty applause, grinning with pleasure. I saw one of the other young locals, Sergeth I think, stand and fill a glass with wine which he took and offered to her with a shy smile. Charlie noticed it too and turned to grin at me, both thumbs up.

“Well, that’s my good deed for the evening.” He chuckled conspiratorially, then sighed. “Might make up for some of the disappointment in not being selected.”

By then the crowd, which included more of the travelling merchants by this stage, had noted the lull in the music and were once again clamouring for Charlie’s attention. He told stories and joked and laughed until the wee hours of the morning, when, overcome by exhaustion and wine, the crowd dispersed and we retired gratefully to bed.

I awoke in unfamiliar surroundings to Charlie wrenching open curtains, flooding the room with indecently bright light. The bed, which had seemed so soft and inviting when we finally stumbled to our rooms the night before, now seemed hard as rocks, and my neck and shoulders were painfully stuff. I felt like someone had carved open my stomach and rearranged my insides. I groaned, utterly miserable.

But Charlie seemed as bright and cheerful as ever as he unlatched the window and pushed it open. I could have punched him.

“Got any sweet Nea’thi magic stuff to make me feel better? I think I’m a bit hungover.”

“Hầұeӣ” Charlie corrected before laughing. “Nope! Well, I do, but I’ve got something even better.” He rummaged through his saddlebags then gestured to the door to out adjoining bathroom. “Go get yourself cleaned up and I’ll see what I can do.” I didn’t think
anything
, save hours of blessed unconsciousness, could make me feel better. I hauled myself out of bed and into my discarded clothes.

“I’m never drinking again,” I muttered, fumbling with the bathroom door.

Charlie laughed, obnoxiously loud. “We’ll see, kiddo!”

After relieving my roiling guts I rinsed my face with the cold water in the washbasin and scrubbed out my mouth with the minty paste Charlie swore by. Feeling only slightly less nauseas I went back into the bedroom to find Charlie seated by the window, a curious contraption in his hand. It was a wooden pipe of sorts, a long tube curved delicately away from the large bowl, filled with what looked like dried moss.

“A moss pipe” Charlie said proudly, holding it out to me. “See, us Nea’thi only discovered the joys of drinking after the Leaving. Not much to ferment, living Underground. But this stuff,” he gestured to a collection of small leather pouches of different colours that he had arranged on the end of the bed, “Hell, we’ve been smoking this for 50,000 years!” I sniffed at the moss in the pipe, it was sweet and grassy and smelt of cloves, or maybe cinnamon. Charlie giggled as I wrinkled my nose. “Our horticulturalists take great pride in the quality of our moss. We’ve developed a number of different varieties from the original psychoactive wild moss we discovered when we went Underground.” He held up the white leather pouch. “This is a very weak variety, developed to alleviate head and body pains, nausea, and to restore appetite while still allowing for clear mental function. A perfect hangover cure!”

Sweet Lilbecz, why hadn’t I known about this stuff? It could have saved me a lot of grief on the hideous mornings with my tutors after nights when boredom had induced me to filtch a bottle or two from the Manor’s cellars.

Charlie laughed, as if reading my thoughts. “I have noticed that Humans tend to be a bit wary of Nea’thi customs, especially the further away from the Capitols you get.” He shrugged apologetically at the inference that I was a bit, well, rural.

“What are the others for?” I asked, pointed to the other small bags.

“Oh well, this one?” He held the green bag. “That’s a new variety. Well, new in that it was developed after the Leaving. This is for when you’re drinking alcohol and you don’t want to get drunk.”

“Would have been helpful last night,” I growled.

“Ha! Well, it was a Saturday night after all, and after three days of hard travelling I thought we deserved to get a little drunk.”

“A little!”

More laughter. He held up the blue pouch. “This one is to aid sleeping.” He pointed to the gold one. “That one is to help you stay awake. The Red is for when want to party, it makes you laugh and laugh.” I rubbed my eyes in exhaustion at the thought of Charlie laughing any more than he already did. He noticed this and giggled. “And the Purple is for, uh, sexy times.” He blushed, which looked odd on his grey face.

“What’s that one for?” I pointed to the last pouch, which was black leather embroidered with a delicate silver thread.

Charlie hesitated. “That one is the strongest one. Extremely psychoactive. It’s used in certain educational rituals and only under close supervision.” He laughed nervously at my interest. “Don’t even
think
about it Jaseth! When you’re ready we will partake, it’s part of the Graduation from the Academy, it helps you access your Hầұeӣ. But
only
when you’re ready! If you smoke it in the wrong emotional state, or without proper supervision you can go insane! Or find yourself three days later, wandering strange forests with your feet cut to ribbons. Or worse.” His face clouded as if he remembered something painful, but he shook himself a little and went on. “So we’ll stick to the White for the meantime, yeah?”

I looked around for a sparklight or some matches, keen to see if this anti-nausea moss would actually help. I really was on the verge of throwing up.

“Here, pop this end in your gob,” and I complied as Charlie squinted slightly at the bowl end. There was a little pop of smoke from the moss and I inhaled far too much in my surprise. The smoke was sweet, yes, and really more a vapour than smoke, but the blast of hot fumes on the back of my throat made my eyes water and then I was coughing furiously. Charlie thumped me on the back vigorously, chuckling away.

“Easy on, kiddo. Slow and steady wins the race!”

“I thought you said magic shouldn’t be used for frivolous purposes!” I managed to splutter.

“Hầұeӣ! And there’s nothing frivolous about curing hangovers!” he cried fervently, sending me into a fit of giggles that quickly turned into unrestrained coughing.

Taking the the pipe from my hand, Charlie smoked delicate little puffs, drawing the smoke in and holding it before exhaling through his nose, the greyish-blue tendrils not much lighter than his skin.

“We learn early on that unnecessary use of Hầұeӣ in front of Humans is a very bad idea. It arouses envy, jealousy in people and that in turn makes them angry. We Nea’thi are still very much a minority here Outside, and we have learned from our studies of Human history that it is prudent for minorities not to arouse envy or anger. Humans can do terrible things when they’re angry…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful, then brightened. “It is also prudent to make the use of Hầұeӣ seem much more difficult than it actually is.” He grinned wolfishly. “It makes Humans less willing to covet the ability if it appears to be a bit of a struggle.”

I had to smile; Charlie sure knew how Humans worked.

“So all that hand-waving and muttering when you put out the, er,
my
fire… That was just for my parents’ benefit?”

“Ha, you’re catching on fast boyo! I mean, words and gestures
can
help focus your concentration, but for that sort of thing, totally unnecessary.” He handed the pipe back to me and squinted at it again so the moss relit. I realised I was starting to feel much better. In fact, as I sucked on the pipe gently, I was feeling
infinitely
better. My stomach had calmed, the streaming sunlight no longer burned my eyes and, Lilbecz save me, I was starting to feel hungry. I was beginning to fantasise about a huge breakfast when there was a loud knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Charlie called politely without the nervousness I suddenly felt. Smoking Nea’thi drugs in an inn room is
not
something I usually do.

“It’s me, you big grey layabout” growled Rudi from outside. “And I bet you’re smoking some of that effing Nea’thi White, judging by the state of you when you finally let me get some rest!”

To my surprise Charlie laughed happily and called out “Yes indeed, Myr Rudi!” as he went to unlock the door for our host.

Rudi looked a bit of a fright as he waded through our room and sat heavily on the end of the bed. His eyes were slitted against the light and his mop of hair was squashed flat on one side of his head, a fuzzy mess on the other.

“Gimme a hoon on that eh?” Rudi reached for the pipe that Charlie had refilled upon his entry. He groped in his pockets until he pulled out a small metal sparklight with which he lit the bowl and inhaled deeply without, to my envy, any coughing at all. “Hmph, yeah, that hits the spot, thanks Charlie.” He passed the pipe to me along with, thankfully, his sparklight.

“You boys near drained my cellars last night!” Rudi exclaimed as I fumbled with the flintcatch. “Here, let me,” as he took it back and struck the flame expertly. “Don’t they teach you little Lordboys anything these days?” he grumbled. I tried to cough politely as this new blast of moss seemed even hotter than before, and the other two laughed at my discomfiture, Rudi whacking me on the back with a meaty fist.

“Well Rudi,” said Charlie, accepting the pipe and the spark-light, “I’m sure at least one of those merchants here last night will have some interesting vintages in their cargo.”

“Ha, yeah, they’re all still asleep, lazy buggers.”

Charlie grinned “And if they feel anything like how I did when I woke up, they won’t be putting up much of a fight when it comes to bargaining.”

“Indeed they won’t!” Rudi grunted happily. He rose and made his way towards the door, gesturing for us to follow. “I’m bloody hungry now and if I know anything, and I think I do, I bet you boys will be desperate for something to eat too. I managed to get some breakfast on before I came up. We got some leftover pie, toast and eggs. Freshly laid too!”

My belly was rumbling loud enough for me to hear it. Rudi was right, I
was
desperate, and judging by the speed with which we tumbled out of the door and down the hallway, the others were too.

The shutters were drawn and the windows open, letting light and fresh air flood the common room, which last night had been warm and cosy, but decidedly close. Nevertheless, the fire had been banked and was crackling a welcome as Rudi steered us into a booth. He disappeared behind the bar into the room that was presumably the kitchen, and came back laden with a jug of steaming coffee, mugs, and three plates piled high with food balancing precariously on his arms.

The toast was smothered with butter and perfectly browned so as to not go soggy when I punctured the yolk of my poached eggs with my fork, the brightest yolk I had ever seen dribbling in golden rivulets. I helped myself to the bowl of salt, sprinkling my breakfast liberally.

“Bloody good stuff that.” Rudi gestured at the bowl with his fork, his mouth already full. “All the way from Allyon!”

It was possibly the best breakfast I had ever eaten. The pie was even better than it had been the night before, the eggs and toast were salty and delicious, and suddenly I was regarding my empty plate with dismay.

Rudi laughed and filled a mug from the pitcher of coffee, already milked and sweetened. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold, eh lad? And I’d fill you up with more, but I believe you’ve a long day’s ride ahead of you, don’t want you falling off your horse ‘cause you’re so stuffed!”

When the other two had finished Rudi called for Sambeth to ready our horses as we went back to our room to repack our saddlebags. Some of the other merchants had surfaced by this stage and they greeted us slowly, the misery of hangovers etched on their faces. I, on the other hand, was feeling positively bubbly, buoyed by the breakfast and two mugs of sweet coffee as well as the marvellous White. We met Rudi and Sambeth by the stables, Rudi fussing over our horses and rechecking the girth straps.

“We want our favourite guests to be safe on their travels, don’t we Sambeth?” he growled at the boy. “Unless of course,” he turned to Charlie beseechingly, “you would stay another night?”

Charlie was gracious in his refusal. “Of course we would love to, Myr Rudi, this is the best inn this side of the Jael!” Rudi scratched
at his head, pleased and a bit embarrassed by the praise. “But we’re on a bit of a timeframe I’m afraid. We need to get Jaseth to Lille soon, his classes start in a week, you know.”

“Or course Charlie, Lord Jaseth. All the best with your studies, young sir!”

Sambeth held our horses for us as we mounted. “Promise you’ll come back soon, Myr Charlie, promise?” the boy called after us as Rudi led us to the highway.

“Of course Sambeth! You behave for Myr Rudi now, you hear?”

“Of course!” he cried with a cheeky grin. “I always do!”

“He’s a good boy, that one,” Charlie told Rudi.

“Of course he is, but a bit bloody cheeky for my liking!” he grumbled and Charlie laughed.

“I can only imagine how cheeky
you
were when you were a boy!”

Rudi slapped the rump of Charlie’s horse in affirmation as he grinned ruefully at us.

“You will come back, won’t you? I imagine Lord Jaseth here will have to visit his venerable parents from time to time?”

“Of course he will, Rudi, and there’s nowhere else we’d rather stay.”

And with that, Charlie urged his horse to a trot and I followed, heading westward down the beaten dirt road. I turned to see Rudi still standing by the gate, waving his farewell. I waved back before the road curved and a tall grove of poplar trees obscured him from view. I hoped we would be back soon. I had had such a nice time at the small wayside inn, drinking and singing and laughing with regular people, away from the confinement of my parents and the pressures of being the Lord’s heir.