18
Game of Fists

Gidyon had in the end decided against taking the horses which the King had offered. He and Figgis were happier to move on foot, particularly now that Figgis was restored to good health. They had left the city of Tal far behind them as they headed north and then began to swing west towards Brittelbury.

Figgis was tireless. Each evening it was Gidyon who first began looking for the best place to sleep for the night rather than the dwarf who, in spite of his size, was strong and surprisingly fleet of foot. Gidyon had expected they would stay in inns but there were few in the northern reaches and Figgis had suggested they make do with a camp. With someone to share the outdoors, Gidyon found he enjoyed the adventure of sleeping beneath the stars far more than when he had journeyed alone towards Axon. And Figgis had many stories to pass the time. Gidyon learned much about the ways of the Rock Dwellers and came to admire them. He looked forward to enjoying his friend’s promise to take him to his birthplace one day. But for the most part their conversation dwelled on the threat of Orlac and how they might, with the other Paladin and the Trinity, defeat him.

This particular day, as dusk stole across Tallinor, they arrived in a town which boasted two inns—both fairly crowded with men in from the fields—and a show which was being presented on the local green and had brought in plenty of visitors.

Gidyon was parched and weary. ‘Come on, Figgis, let’s treat ourselves to a bed tonight. We can share a room and I’ve got the coin my mother gave me—I’ve hardly used a drack of it.’

Figgis eyed him. ‘You’d make a woeful Rock Dweller, boy.’

‘I feel like an ale and a singsong and an enormous hearty meal —I could eat enough for two men in fact!’

They laughed together.

‘All right, you win. Which one?’ Figgis asked, regarding the inns.

‘Well, let’s see now. The Bull ’n’ Stag or the Old Crown? Hmm…the first one, I think.’

‘Lead the way,’ Figgis said. ‘But don’t be surprised if they stare. My kind have not been seen around for a long time,’ he cautioned.

They stepped into the lively inn and within moments much of its loud chatter and laughter had dimmed.

What did I tell you? Figgis said.

It doesn’t stop my thirst or hunger. And I refuse to sleep on the ground tonight. Follow me, Gidyon said, shouldering his way through the crowded room.

The sight of the two strangers, odd companions though they were, did not bother the serving girls. They were more than happy to see such a tall and handsome traveller in these parts. Used to the roughneck villagers who came into town after an Eighthday working the fields, Gidyon was a treat for sore eyes. Neither of the girls was especially pretty but one had a bright, wide smile and a cheeky glint in her eye.

‘Two of your largest ales…and what’s on tonight?’

‘Depends what you mean,’ she said, grabbing a couple of enormous mugs from the shelf.

He grinned. It felt good to engage in something as simple as flirting and for a moment not having to worry about saving the world. ‘Food,’ he answered.

‘Oh, in that case it’s ploughman’s pie or roast pigeon.’

‘One of each,’ he replied. ‘Big servings,’ and he winked.

‘Take a seat, if you can find one.’

He turned and picked out Figgis who had already claimed a small space in a corner of the crowded room. ‘We’re over there,’ he called to the girl and she nodded.

Gidyon joined Figgis. ‘You see, you’re forgotten already. A novelty only for a moment.’

‘Give it time,’ Figgis warned.

Their food arrived and they both ate heartily and drank copiously. The ale hit the spot for Gidyon and as he felt himself relax a gregarious mood began to overtake him. The serving girl frequently caught his eye and he began to entertain thoughts of what else the night might hold.

‘Did you ask about lodgings?’ Figgis said.

Before Gidyon could answer a roar went up in the alehouse followed by a burst of cheering. ‘What’s that all about?’ he wondered aloud, standing for a better look. ‘Another ale?’

‘Why not?’ Figgis said, also beginning to relax under the influence of the drink.

Gidyon made his way to the counter, once again pushing through the throng. The cheering was frequent now and the sound of men’s voices became more boisterous. He ordered another couple of mugs and paid his coin to the other girl this time. He noticed the original serving lass pouting slightly at her sister getting to him first.

‘What time do you girls work until?’ he asked.

‘Too late. And you keep throwing these down and you’ll be drunk before we can enjoy your company.’

‘Strumpet!’ the innkeeper said, slapping the girl’s rump with a towel. It was a friendly gesture and they both laughed. ‘These are my daughters, young man, and they will be going to bed straight after their night’s work.’ He was an oily sort of character; there was intelligence—or was it cunning—in his eyes, in the way they sparkled. ‘Their own beds,’ he added just in case it needed clarification.

Gidyon grinned. ‘Just passing the time of day innkeeper. No harm meant.’

‘None taken,’ the man said, pointing his daughter towards the tables which needed clearing.

She threw a backwards glance towards Gidyon but he knew not to trespass now.

‘What’s happening over there?’ he asked the innkeeper.

‘Oh, the Freak Show’s in town. That’s Londry the Strongman. He pays anyone who can beat him at Fists.’

‘He doesn’t look strong to me.’

‘Cannot be beaten,’ the man replied, a sly grin stealing across his face.

‘How much?’

‘Don’t bother. He’s never lost a single round and has been coming here for years. Each season another young blood thinks he might beat him but he always goes home with his tail between his legs. I’d hate for you to lose your money,’ the man said, but Gidyon did not think he really meant it.

Gidyon nodded. ‘What’s the Freak Show?’

‘Travelling circus of oddbods. Your friend, the dwarf over there, had better watch out—they’ll grab him for their show.’

‘They’ll have to catch him first,’ Gidyon said, and grinned. ‘Thanks for the warning.’

The innkeeper took his coin and Gidyon picked up the mugs of ale, returning to Figgis. He told him what he had learned. The little man shrugged.

‘He’s cheating,’ he said.

Gidyon put his mug down. ‘Who is?’

‘The Strongman’s cheating. He’s empowered.’

‘I imagine he would have to be, seeing how skinny he is. How do you know?’

‘I can feel his magic. As soon as the cheering began I felt it but it’s very weak. We’ve probably both had a little too much ale to notice it.’

‘Can’t have him winning all night, can we?’ Gidyon said, draining his mug, his bubbly mood frothing over. ‘Let’s see if we can relieve him of some of his money.’

Figgis was still clear-headed enough to caution his friend. ‘Come on, lad. We need a good night’s rest and we still haven’t sorted where we are sleeping.’

‘Just one turn, Figgis,’ Gidyon said, grabbing his arm and dragging him through the legs of people towards the now very loud mob of people gathered around one table.

Gidyon’s height meant he could see with ease over the shoulders of men enjoying the spectacle of Londry the Strongman, his decidedly slim right arm linked with that of his opponent—a young farmer, red-faced and perspiring as he worked hard to prevent his arm being bent towards the red ribbon which would pronounce him loser. He was a big, burly lad, more than capable of beating most men at a strong arm match but his strength could not pitch itself against magic. Of course, he was not to know that and so he laboured to beat the famous freak, Londry. Londry pushed with his very simple powers and the burly farmer capitulated to the sound of a massive roar of approval from the onlookers, who thumped him on the back and told him it was a close one. The farmer left, disgusted with himself.

Leave it, Gidyon. We don’t need this now. We’re on a mission.

I hate cheats, Gidyon replied and moved forward.

He heard his companion sigh in his head but he ignored it. ‘Who takes the bets here?’ he yelled over the din.

A loud applause went up as the crowd sensed another contender. Londry eyed the new opponent, looking him up and down. ‘I take the bets,’ he answered. ‘It’s a duke a-piece. Winner take all.’

‘I see you’ve been winning all night,’ Gidyon said, nodding towards the pile of coins at Londry’s elbow.

‘Ay, I have. I never lose,’ Londry replied. ‘Tell you what, lad. You look like you’ve got the goods…but let’s make the bet more interesting,’ he offered.

‘Such as?’

‘Let’s triple the odds shall we?’

‘Fine with me,’ Gidyon said, pretending to sway a little and give the appearance he was too hazy from the ale to realise what he had just committed to.

‘Show me your coin, lad,’ the man said.

Gidyon dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of his mother’s money and slammed it on the table. He heard Figgis tsk-tsk in his head again.

It’s just a little fun. He’s been taking their money for years by cheating.

So you think you should teach him a lesson, eh?

Something like that.

Londry counted a small fortune in the pile before him.

‘I can’t cover that,’ he said.

‘I can!’ It was the innkeeper who had sidled up and was greedily looking over the glinting money.

Ah, so the crooked innkeeper is in on the deal.

Does it matter? Figgis said.

They’re cheats. Come on Figgis, where’s your sense of justice?

Upstairs in bed, tucked beneath the sheets.

Gidyon chuckled over the Link before he addressed the crowd.

‘I’ll tell you what, good folk. I’m confident I can beat this fellow. Why don’t we throw it open so you can lay bets too?’

He saw the innkeeper baulk. ‘Ah now, that’s not the deal,’ he said.

‘What are you afraid of, innkeeper? You told me yourself that Londry never loses. So, why not take the risk that he won’t fail this time, either?’

The innkeeper licked his lips and glanced again towards the pile of coins which lay on the table. ‘How did you come by so much money? Are you a thief, sir?’

‘My parents saved it for me. It’s everything I have— I’m prepared to risk it. Are you?’ Gidyon hoped that would deflect any further delving on the substantial amount of money he really could not explain if pressed further. He could just imagine how this provincial crowd would greet the news that he was the son of the former queen of Tallinor.

Londry looked at his partner and nodded. Gidyon caught it and turned towards the innkeeper. Everyone around them waited expectantly for the answer. Greed got the better of the man.

‘All right. We take bets. I cover them.’

A roar of approval and a frenzy of activity followed as men dug into their pockets and found their last coin to wager. Half the room liked the tall lad’s swaggering confidence and placed their money on him. They knew it was a lost cause but they loved the idea that someone had pushed the greedy innkeeper to demonstrate that he was in on this annual event. He had always denied it, but tonight had shown him to be in partnership with Londry. The others in the room, not so confident and aware of Londry’s unblemished reputation for winning at Fists, went with the Strongman, even though every one of them would love to see him beaten.

The two girls had written down the bets, the tally of which Gidyon now ensured the innkeeper sight and sign his name to.

‘Everyone is witness that the innkeeper is covering these bets,’ he announced.

They cheered as the innkeeper smiled nervously. He was confident of winning but he hated to see so much of his money even vaguely under threat.

‘Take your seat,’ Londry said to Gidyon. ‘Don’t get comfortable, you won’t be in it long,’ he said and laughed, showing two rows of teeth in various stages of decay.

Then Londry banged his elbow down on the table, showing his clenched fist. Gidyon followed suit and one of the girls tied the combatants’ wrists with ribbons; one red to declare the Strongman the champion, the other blue, tied to his opponent. The red ribbon was stained from regular use. The blue ribbon had never yet declared a victor.

‘I’ve put my last duke on you,’ the girl whispered to Gidyon as she tied a firm knot at his wrist, making sure she caressed it surreptitiously before adding: ‘Make sure you win.’

He rewarded her with a smile, which made her feel weak as she stared into the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. Win or lose, she intended to reward him with something other than money tonight. She stepped away.

A hush fell on the gathered crowd.

The innkeeper quickly reminded everyone of the rules. ‘One round only. Whichever fist touches the coloured ribbon of his opponent is declared the winner. I shall enjoy taking all your money.’ He was booed by those who had bet on Gidyon and cheered by the rest of the mob.

‘Ready?’ he called, raising his arm.

Both opponents nodded and then gripped each other’s hands; palm to palm, fingers wrapped tight. Gidyon could already feel the man gathering up his powers. Londry was sentient, it was true. But only just —he possessed enough magical ability, if used wisely, to be able to channel it through his arm and best just about anyone. His tiny frame was testimony to the fact that without the magic, he would rarely win in a test of strength.

Gidyon felt the Colours pulse gently. He also noted Londry tighten his grip as they watched the innkeeper’s arm prepared to drop. Gidyon gave Londry a final ‘devil-be-damned’ grin before the innkeeper’s arm dropped and the cheering erupted.

At first nothing much happened as their fingers gripped harder and they simply tested one another. Gidyon felt the weak sentient ability of Londry doing its best and he allowed it to flow over him. He knew the Strongman would not be able to detect his own powers; his father had warned him as much and so he decided to allow Londry to gain a sense of security as his rigidly held arm began to lean dangerously close to the red ribbon. The men in the inn were wild with cheers. Half the room was urging Gidyon on, begging him to find the strength to fight back. The other half was now chanting Londry’s name, sensing yet another victory and more money in their pockets than they had arrived with. The innkeeper showed his pleasure, leading the chanting, loving the thought that he would be considerably richer tonight.

Finish it, Figgis suggested.

You spoil my fun, dwarf.

Remember Orlac. We have a job to do and need to be on the road early tomorrow.

It was Gidyon’s turn to sigh across the Link. He looked towards one of the innkeeper’s daughters—the one with the lovely smile —and winked. She looked confused, noting that Gidyon’s fist was barely a whisker from touching the red ribbon. How could he be so cocky? She could hardly hear her own final encouragement to him over the monstrous din of the crowd. Men were now standing on chairs and tables; several of them, in fact, had even clambered onto the serving counter for a clear look at the boy’s defeat.

Gidyon turned back to Londry, who was leering at him with his horrible teeth.

‘What will you tell your ma and pa at losing their money?’ the Strongman taunted.

Gidyon broke into the widest of grins. ‘But I haven’t lost yet, Londry,’ he said and pushed ever so gently with the tiniest amount of the Colours. They responded, subtly surging against the weak power of Londry which had been pouring through Gidyon’s arm. Londry’s expression changed dramatically as he felt his arm weaken. What was happening? This was not right. He looked towards his grinning opponent as their locked fists gradually swayed away from the red. They held momentarily in the centre, fully upright where the contest had begun.

Londry cast a terrified glance towards the innkeeper and then felt the ghastly sensation of his own rigid arm moving inexorably towards the blue. The crowd became hysterical. The boy had found some deep hidden strength and was fighting back courageously. It was slow and graceful, the movement down to the blue ribbon. Londry wanted to believe his eyes tricked him. He tried to double his power but he had long ago used its full strength and this lad before him did not seem to be affected by it any longer.

And then something extraordinary happened. Londry had never felt such a sensation before. A sense of something cold sliced open in his head and he heard a voice.

Cheats cannot be allowed to prosper, it said.

It was the voice of the lad. He was still grinning. Londry looked at his fist, knowing he was a beaten man, as it experienced its first ever touch to the blue. He could not hear his own thoughts as the inn seemed to explode. Men were cheering and thumping each other’s backs; others leapt from tables and jumped on one another. Londry, numb, felt his fingers being unlocked from the tight grip of his opponent who was being showered with kisses by one of the innkeeper’s daughters.

‘How did you do that?’ he said, quietly.

Gidyon’s superior hearing heard him. ‘I cheated,’ he said, and stood.

Londry watched all of his night’s winnings disappear into Gidyon’s hands and he looked towards the innkeeper, who wore a murderous expression as he was inundated by demands for payment from boisterous men, looking forward to clutching their winnings. Londry knew it would be a long time before the Strongman from the Freak Show would be welcome at this alehouse again and he had to wonder whether the innkeeper would even survive the huge payout he would be making tonight.

Gidyon pushed some coin into the hand of the girl that was still clinging to his neck. ‘I have to go, but this is for you,’ he said.

Let’s get out of here, Gidyon, Figgis said, keen to get his companion away from the hysterical congratulations of all those who had placed their money on him. Figgis was relieved when Gidyon nodded.

Let’s go, he said, piling money into his pockets and waving at his supporters.

It was a cool, clear night and they sucked in the fresh air.

Another night under the stars, then, Figgis said. Let’s head towards that small copse on the other side of town.

I suppose it is, Gidyon said, referring to a night under the stars. I don’t feel like going back in there. The innkeeper looked ready to kill me.

Figgis chuckled. I reckon he got what he deserves.

They’ve been running that trick for years and cheating honest men from their money. I presume they could only have devised it since the fall of the Inquisitor.

Yes, you’d be right there. Saxon told me that Goth punished people for many years. It’s only recently that sentients have been able to proclaim their powers.

Are they always that weak?

I think so. Wild magic is never strong. It’s just a trace of something passed down through generations.

And this is what King Lorys feared and had people persecuted for?

Figgis shook his head. It’s terrible what was done to them.

Father said that he and my mother have the wild magic. But they are both so strong with it.

This is true. Torkyn Gynt is the One and your mother is special. None of us really understands. Their magic is perhaps an individual gift. Without either of them there is no Trinity.

It doesn’t make sense to me, Figgis. There’s more to it. If sentient people are weak in their powers, passed as wild magic through generations, then how do my parents possess such immense abilities— enough to consider taking on a god?

I’m not sure they are being given much choice.

Gidyon refused to accept it.

Well, what do you think it is then, if not the wild magic? Figgis asked.

Has it occurred to you that my parents may also be from the gods?

No it hasn’t. It’s an impossible notion.

Why?

Well, explain how?

I don’t know. It’s just a thought.

They were both so deep in their thoughts and private conversation across the Link that neither had paid much attention to the fact that they were now on the open road again, headed out of town and towards the motley set-up of carts and stalls which they presumed was the Freak Show. As they rounded one of the alleyways which would lead them towards the copse and shelter for the night, Figgis suddenly hissed.

We’re being followed.

They swung around and saw half a dozen men approaching them.

Wait! Figgis cautioned, sensing the Colours flare in his companion. Your powers are more than enough defence. Let’s see what they want of us. If it’s money, just give it to them.

Pigs bollocks I will! But I’ll hear them out.

It was Londry leading the pack.

‘We want no trouble,’ Londry said to them.

‘Why are you following us? Surely you don’t plan to steal my money?’

‘We’re not here to steal from you. I want you to meet someone.’

That’s novel, Figgis murmured.

A ruddy-faced man stepped out of the shadows. He was as broad as he was tall, with a bulbous nose. ‘I’m Vyk Tyne, proprietor of the Freak Show,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Shall we move out of the alley and into the open?’

No harm done. Might as well hear him out, Gidyon said.

They turned and followed the men back up the alley and into the main street.

Tyne turned towards Gidyon. ‘Londry told me what happened back there in the alehouse.’

Gidyon shrugged.

‘You are sentient and you travel with a dwarf,’ the man said with some wonder. ‘We haven’t seen his kind in decades. I’m offering you a place in our show.’

Gidyon was taken aback. This was the last thing he had expected. He looked towards Figgis and they both burst out laughing.

‘Why is it funny? You’re both perfect!’

‘Perhaps we are, but we are on a journey to Brittelbury and must make haste. I thank you for your interest,’ Gidyon replied, with genuine politeness. ‘Good luck, Londry.’

They both made to leave.

‘Wait…please!’ Tyne called. ‘Brittelbury is one of our stops. We should reach there in a few nights. What harm then to travel with us? Help us earn some coin and earn some yourself.’

Gidyon turned. ‘I’m not sure I need to earn coin, sir. Londry will testify we have enough to see us through.’

Londry nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Vyk. I thought he may say yes.’

Tyne shrugged. ‘Are you walking through the night?’ he asked.

‘Probably,’ Figgis said.

‘I thought you were mute,’ Tyne said, incredulous.

‘No, I can sing and dance too,’ Figgis said, effecting a comical jig. He was relieved that the confrontation was not what he had imagined.

‘Well, don’t go yet. Please. Why not stay the night at our camp and we can talk some more? There’s food for the morning and some manner of bed for the night. I’ll be happy to extend some hospitality. Perhaps you can teach Londry here a few tricks,’ Tyne offered graciously, nodding towards Gidyon.

He seemed genuine enough. They sensed no guile in this man.

‘Come and share a drink with me before you rest. Your money’s safe, I give my word. Who knows, I might persuade you to travel with us.’ He smiled big-heartedly.

‘All right,’ Gidyon said. ‘I could use a soft pallet.’

‘Come,’ Tyne said. They walked with the group. ‘Let me introduce you to a couple of our performers: you know Londry, and this is our contortionist, Elby.’ A slim man with a liquid walk smiled at Figgis who grunted a greeting. ‘On the end over there is Selwyn, who you can see has no arms but balances on a tightrope. And in between them is Caerys…he’s a snake swallower.’

Caerys held out a hand. ‘I used to be with Cirq Zorros.’

Gidyon grinned. ‘I’m not from these parts, I’m sorry.’

‘Oh well, it’s a very famous circus. It used to boast the Flying Foxes. But they broke up when Saxon left…and then Greta married Zorros…’

‘Saxon,’ Figgis said, ‘the Kloek?’

‘That’s him,’ Caerys replied, beaming that they might have a mutual friend. ‘How do you know Saxon?’

‘We go back a long way,’ Figgis admitted.

They had arrived at the Green. ‘This way,’ Tyne said.

The group broke up, headed towards their own caravans, but Caerys followed with Gidyon and Figgis as they ducked beneath awnings and stepped over rugs and various pockets of hastily made habitation. Tyne led them to the most ornate caravan and gestured for them to join him inside.

‘I know you’re both in need of rest but join me in a nip of something stronger than ale. It will see you both off to a good night’s sleep.’

Figgis eyed him suspiciously.

Tyne laughed. ‘Nothing sinister, I assure you, dwarf. Just some excellent liquor I picked up on our last visit to the south.’

Caerys nudged Gidyon. ‘You can trust us.’

They sat back in the relatively salubrious surroundings of Tyne’s caravan and listened to his tales of how the Freak Show came into existence more than a decade ago. Gidyon was enjoying himself, letting down his guard, but Figgis kept a close watch on the door and on his bonded’s state of mind. One more glass and he was sure the lad would pass out.

‘Tell me about your circus, Caerys,’ Gidyon slurred.

‘They were wonderful days they were. We travelled up and down the Kingdom performing for the royals many times. You know, it’s impossible to think it, but our Queen…well, King’s Mother now, once lived with us.’

Gidyon nearly dropped his cup. ‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Queen Alyssa. She lived and travelled with us. She and her friend, old Sorrel.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s true, I swear.’

Gidyon was just about to press the young man for more information when they heard an almighty roar.

‘Apologies. That’s our very big friend. He gets himself horribly drunk every night after a show.’

‘Big friend?’ Figgis enquired, putting down his cup and removing the one listing on Gidyon’s lap.

‘Yes, my word. He’s enormous. The complete opposite of you, my friend. The two of you would make a fine double act.’

‘A giant you mean?’ Figgis said, feeling a knot twist in his stomach.

‘Giant? No, I don’t think so. Giants were a tale from our imagination, weren’t they? But he’s a huge man. I’ve never seen the like of him. He draws enormous crowds.’

‘What is his name?’ Figgis demanded.

‘He can’t pronounce it until morning when he’s sober again,’ Caerys laughed.

Tyne offered to refill the cups but Figgis refused for himself and on behalf of Gidyon.

‘He calls himself Themesius, which is such an old-fashioned name don’t you think?’ Tyne said, filling his own cup, not noticing the dwarf was on his feet and making for the door.

‘I want to see him,’ he said.

Gidyon yawned.

Up, lad. Now! We’ve found Themesius!

Tyne did not fully understand the urgency to meet with the ‘Big Man’ as he was known. They had always steered away from calling him the obvious title of Giant because it might scare the little ones. Themesius was scary to look at, with long, dark hair and an equally long dark beard. His huge arms were covered in thick black hair, as were his legs, and his voice was so deep you could almost hear it rumbling from any part of the camp. Yet, despite his terrifying appearance, he was a gentle soul who had wandered out of the Great Forest one day, disorientated.

It just so happened that the Freak Show had been travelling on a relatively unused track of the northwest, hugging one of the famed fingers of the Forest, and everyone had been edgy at being in such close proximity to the supposedly enchanted place. When a huge man had suddenly lurched from the trees he had startled the first caravan so badly that the horses had shrieked and reared, breaking the axle. They had had no choice but to make camp in the very place they had wanted to leave far behind. As it turned out, the stranger had lost his memory and had no notion of his home, any family or why he had been in the Forest. All he knew was that his name was Themesius.

He had intended no harm and his strength had helped them make repairs to the damaged wagon in order to be on their way—this time with the big man in tow. He preferred to lope alongside the train of wagons and very quickly became a popular member of the travelling troupe, winning notoriety wherever they went.

Tyne explained this quickly to his new friends as he led them towards the darkest part of the camp and Themesius.

‘Do you know of this fellow?’ he asked Figgis.

‘I knew a Themesius. He was of giant stature,’ he admitted.

‘There surely cannot be two such people roaming Tallinor,’ Tyne offered.

Gidyon stumbled along behind. His head was feeling very blurry and he decided he definitely had no stomach for hard liquor. The ale was bad enough but combined with Tyne’s nip…all he could think of was to lie down and yet he knew if he did, he would feel the world begin to spin. It was an awful dilemma.

‘Why does he drink so much?’ he asked Caerys, who also accompanied them.

‘We don’t know. He’s always stony sober of a morning but he drinks vast amounts of his earnings each evening. He’s nice enough but I don’t have much to do with him. He hates snakes, you see.’

‘Ah, that’s right…and you swallow them!’ He felt sick just thinking about it, his belly already churning from the drink.

Caerys beamed. ‘I used to make Alyssa really squirm when I did it close up to her.’

Gidyon belched unintentionally. ‘You’ll have to tell me more about our Queen some time.’

‘Gladly,’ Caerys said. ‘We’re here, watch your head,’ he said, pointing to a low branch the others were ducking beneath.

They entered a tent. Sprawled in a corner against some cushions was the tallest, broadest man Gidyon had ever seen.

‘Ho! Themesius. I’ve brought some guests to meet you. Friends in fact,’ Tyne said, nudging the slumbering man.

‘Is he asleep?’ Gidyon asked.

‘He calls out in his dreams…that’s what you heard,’ Caerys said.

The big man did not stir. He snored loudly.

Figgis had to stifle the smile which leapt to his face. He turned to Tyne. ‘That offer you made about being part of the show. Do you mean it?’

Gidyon wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. A look from Figgis told him to hold his tongue. He did. It was agonising to speak anyway.

Tyne’s ruddy face lit up. ‘Of course I mean it. Have you changed your mind?’ he asked, wondering why the dwarf was doing the talking for the pair all of a sudden.

‘Yes, but only as far as Brittelbury.’

‘Deal!’ the man said and spat on his palm and held his hand out.

Gidyon sat down hard and then felt he must find the courage to lie down or just pass out.

Tyne grinned. ‘Don’t think the lad has ever tasted such fiery spirit before.’

Figgis shook the man’s hand. ‘Perhaps I should have warned him about the famous yellow liquor of the south,’ he said.

‘Caerys,’ Tyne called. ‘Go and see if old Bensy has space in the caravan.’

‘No need,’ Figgis said. ‘Gidyon is asleep and I’m in no mood to carry him anywhere. I’m happy to bed down here. Themesius and I have much to catch up on.’

‘He’ll get a surprise when he wakes up, then,’ Caerys said, bright-eyed.

‘Indeed,’ the dwarf said.

‘Sleep well, Figgis,’ Vyk Tyne said.

The two men left and Gidyon slipped into the merciful oblivion of sleep before his stomach could heave up its contents. When nothing more but the gentle snores of the lad interrupted the night, Figgis opened the Link.

Wake up, you rogue.

The giant opened one eye to a slit. You took long enough. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up this pretence! Drunk each night, indeed.

Figgis laughed and then wept as he hugged his oldest and greatest friend.