Nortvegr's yellow sun had set more than an hour ago. Dusk had passed into inky blackness. The dark night hid much that needed to stay secret about the two travelers. Blowing sand swirled around the two robed figures moving across the shadowy street in the Nortvegr village. The tinsmith they'd traveled with had said this village was called Brooksmeet. It was several days travel into the forested band of land that stretched between the upper desert and the Great Divide, a mountain range, but sand still blew here at night during the winter season.
Daniel paused and adjusted his supporting grip on Jack. In just the few steps they'd taken from the wagon, Jack had already begun to sag heavily against him. With his own face protected against the sand, Daniel tugged at the bucca draped around Jack's head, securing it against the blowing quartz, the constantly abrasive sand. The sand never quite stopped blowing on the southern part of the continent in winter. Day or night, it was always a factor when one stepped outside down in the low desert and the southern part of the continent. But this far north of the place where they'd crashed onto this continent, they should have a couple of clear hours in the mornings. Daniel looked forward to the dawning of Nortvegr's warm sun. Though he'd lost exact count, it would be close to the hundredth sunrise he would see on this planet.
Satisfied that Jack's skin was as well protected as the thin fabric of the bucca would allow, he wrapped a supporting hand around the man's waist and gently guided him along.
Two more steps had them at the entrance to the great inn with its welcoming pub. Each village had such an inn. They were often the center of commerce, social interaction, even the scholarly gathering spot. Brooksmeet's inn had a ram's head carved into the sign swinging in the night wind above the door. It was a two story structure, the second such that they'd seen on this planet.
Daniel kept his bucca tight as they entered. He shut the door quickly and only drew a few glares and snarls of protest from the raucous, late-evening crowd gathered inside. He paused by the door when Jack began to cough, knocking his bucca back from his face, revealing his pale skin. As they stood there, the glares quickly faded. The worker castes abruptly turned back to their conversations and meals, giving Jack the respect and distance a Highborn was due.
Daniel surveyed the room, peering through the small open slit of his folded bucca. They were in a great hall of the inn, the room where food and ale was served. Off to his left there was a massive fireplace. As tall as one of the worker caste, it had a beast roasting on a spit. Through a wide door on the back wall he could see a kitchen where more cooking was being done. The center of the great hall was full of long rows of oblong tables with simple benches on either side. A few chairs were scattered among them, as well as one or two small, round tables. To his right there was a much smaller fireplace with a couple of round tables there.
After Jack's cough quieted, Daniel guided him to one of the two empty round tables close to the smaller fireplace and helped him sit. He dropped his tuc, the sling-shaped bag, from his shoulder to the sawdust-strewn floor by Jack's chair and then laid his rolled bundle of supplies across it. Then Daniel removed Jack's bucca and draped it over the chair back. Sand shifted from the fabric down to the floor.
Sawdust was something new. On their trek north they'd only recently seen enough trees for sawdust to make an appearance as an absorbent on pub room floors.
As Daniel was loosening the ties on the front of Jack's outer robe, a serving wench paused by the table. The woman, typical of a worker caste, had long, black braids down her back, broad features, and beautiful café-au-lait skin. She was also easily over six and a half feet tall, definitely on the short side, even for the women of her caste. She wore a brown skirt of coarse fabric that hung just above her booted ankles. Her beige blouse was cinched close by a dusky, red laced bodice.
"Ale," Daniel murmured to her, then he adjusted Jack's robe open only a little to keep him warm, but enough to allow the heat from the fireplace in. Mindful that the woman hadn't moved away to fetch the drinks, Daniel pulled out a gold coin and slapped it on the table.
The woman nodded and then scurried away.
Adjusting his bucca to keep his own face still shielded, Daniel sat in the chair at Jack's left, his back to the center of the room. "Looks like a good crowd," he said softly.
Jack peered around, then nodded. He coughed a few more times.
"Lot of prospects here," Daniel said.
"I don't need a horse--"
"Yes," Daniel interrupted him. "We do." He took a deep breath. "We, Jack. We need horses."
Jack sighed and dropped his gaze to the table top. It was rough-hewn wood, scarred with knife cuts and crude carvings of people in sexual positions. There were futhark carvings, the Viking runic alphabet. Most likely the symbols represented names of whoever had sat here in the past.
The serving wench returned with two large metal tankards in one strong hand. She set them on the table and snatched up the coin.
Daniel shot a hand out and restrained her by her dark wrist, but kept his head bowed. "We need two meals a day and a room till the weather warms."
She pursed her lips, then nodded. "My lord has the finest rooms this side of the divide. For how many nights? This'll cover a week, no more. Lest ye'd take one meal a day? They say most Highborn don't eat much."
"A week will be sufficient to start with. Two meals a day. And fresh linens tonight."
"Fresh linens this late? Ye ask a lot, Highborn," she said genially.
At her address, Daniel withdrew his hand and tucked it under his sleeve, covering his pale skin. He kept his head bowed.
"We're right pleased to have Highborn here in winter. Just about unheard of, that be. I'll be back with the food and ye'll get a key." She gave a quick, but respectful nod, then left.
Daniel scooted a tankard to Jack. "You up to eating here? We could take the food with us to the room."
"Eat here, Danny. I'm okay."
Silently Daniel nodded. He watched as Jack leaned forward and used both hands to lift the tankard. It sloshed because of his trembling as he sipped from it.
Daniel drank the ale. It filled the hollowness in him, warmed him and kept him busy while they waited for whatever food the innkeeper had chosen to serve his patrons this evening. Around the two quiet foreigners, working caste men and a few women drank, sang and swapped colorful tales.
Most of the patrons were dressed in coarse wool, with loose shirts that laced. Some had leather pants, but most wore the wool pants and long robes like Daniel and Jack wore. The layers of robes and thick undergarments were sufficient protection from the cold for Jack and Daniel, except at night. Even this far north the nights were still bitterly cold. That might change soon if Daniel had understood what he'd been told about changing seasons on Nortvegr.
Except for the occasional smattering of gray, Daniel saw black hair, stiff and coarse, topping every head in the place. He saw nothing but hairless faces. The people of Nortvegr had been planted here by an Asgard, Daniel knew. They'd been dropped and left. But unlike their Norse relatives on earth, most of the people here were no longer quite human. Nirrti had seen to that.
And even this far north, Daniel and Jack had still not encountered any of the fully human people known as Highborn. He glanced around the inn again, seeing as much as the narrow slit in his folded bucca would allow. Then he turned his back to the room again. While there were no other Highborn in the place these people had not reacted in shock at Daniel and Jack's presence, even after Jack's coughing had dislodged his head covering and exposed his pale skin. The noise of the conversations had dropped for a moment, but then resumed.
This had happened more and more as they traveled north. The people were showing manners, restraint. They were giving the Highborn the courtesy of not being gawked at. They were more used to seeing Highborn, it seemed. Just not in winter, apparently.
But the people inside the Ram's Head inn had only seen Jack so far. That quiet respect would change.
With the bucca covering Daniel's head, the men and women at his back would assume that he was one of the Highborn's servants, most likely a worker caste boy. Evidently, Highborn never appeared in the southern land without at least one servant in tow.
The serving wench returned with their food. It was steaming and plentiful, as it had been at the last tavern they'd patronized.
She sat two large, pewter plates before them, a fowl of some kind, and white tubers baked soft and smothered in seasoned fat. There were also long, green stalks filled with seeds that were tasty, but not the type of nutrition Jack needed. She sat a basket by the plates. It was generously filled with warm, fresh bread.
"Ye servants, Highborn. Need rooms for them, or will they sleep here in the great hall?"
"No servants." Daniel kept his head bowed.
She regarded him with open skepticism, then shook her head, smiling as if he were playing a prank on her. Then she hurried off to another table to answer a call for more ale.
Most of what she'd brought was just what Jack needed, filling and high in protein and fat.
Daniel pushed the plates together, scooped the green stalks from Jack's plate to his own, and then put half his serving of meat on the empty spot on Jack's plate. Then he pushed it toward his silent companion.
"Use your fingers for the bird," Daniel said. "Tear it in small enough bits so you don't have to chew. We'll get wash water later."
With a cough, Jack held up his shaking, dirty hands, then smirked.
Daniel managed a snort of humor. Then, as Jack turned, holding his hands over the sawdust-strewn floor, Daniel splashed a generous portion of his ale on them. Jack rubbed them together, and Daniel rinsed them again. Then Jack wiped them on his brown robe.
Silently they began to eat. Daniel allowed his bucca to fall open a bit as he ate, but kept his face turned away from the other patrons. Jack rested between each bite. Daniel turned a bit left and listened attentively to the conversations going on around them.
". . . five cows and half again that many sheep. If ye throw in a breeding ram we've got a deal."
Daniel glanced furtively toward the speakers and saw a beige bargaining cloth spread between them, but he couldn't make out what symbol was traced on it.
"I've got no rams to spare this season. I had to part with my best as my eldest daughter's dowry. Her mother'd have nothing less go with her . . . "
Daniel turned to his right a bit and listened to the group closer to his and Jack's table.
" . . . so then the darlin' says to me, Balin sir, I've room enough for ye and ye sword."
Loud laughter rang through the men gathered around the storyteller. Daniel pulled his attention back to Jack.
"The bread's good but if you get too full of the meat we can take it to the room for later." He tried to encourage Jack to eat the protein rich food first.
"Yeah," Jack said slowly.
Each meal they'd bought on Nortvegr had been more than ample. The people here had appetites to match their stature. He and Jack never left a table hungry, never went hungry. Not since Daniel had figured out how to earn money on Nortvegr.
The wench came hurrying by and paused long enough to slap a key on the table and give him a deep curtsey, then she was gone to tend to other customers.
" . . . Highborn . . . "
Daniel had caught a snatch of a conversation from a nearby table. He tugged his bucca closer about his face and glanced at the speaker through the thin edging on the hood. It was the man who'd been telling a dirty story earlier. He was nodding respectfully in Jack's direction as he spoke to his listeners. Daniel turned his attention back to his food.
Jack's skin was much lighter than the rest of the inhabitants of the inn. His status as a Highborn would keep him safe, keep any trouble-makers at a safe distance. No matter how drunk or rowdy they got, no worker caste would dare harm Jack.
The only being around who would intentionally hurt Jack was long dead. He was dead at Daniel's own hands, moments after he'd crashed them on this planet. His body was a pile of ashes amid the twisted scraps of his ship somewhere in the low desert at the southern tip of Nortvegr. Daniel had killed him way too late to prevent him from injecting Jack with spider venom. The venom had slowly eaten away at his muscles until he almost died in that low desert where the ship sat rusting in the blowing desert sands.
That was three months ago. That was half a continent ago. That was for Daniel, a trip to hell and back, ago.
Now, Jack was on the mend. He was healing. Slowly but surely, healing. And Daniel knew hell was behind them. Each day that Jack drew breath easier, took a few more steps, ate heartier, hell got a little further and further behind them.
He checked Jack's plate. "Can you finish the meat?"
With a silent scowl Jack renewed his efforts to pick at the meat on the bird bones.
"Sorry, Jack--" Daniel began to apologize for his nagging, but he was interrupted when one of the drunken men from the story-teller's crowd bumped into his chair. Daniel was jostled into the table's edge.
"That young 'un's master be Highborn," a warning was called to the drunken man.
"Harv, away from there, ye fool," another man called out sternly.
The reeling man giggled and grabbed at Daniel's chair for support. He peered at Jack. "Sorry, Highborn," he said loudly. "My bump on ye servant lad, sir."
"Not!" the serving wench screeched as she charged across the room. Her path was hindered by tables and patrons. "Not a servant!" Panic etched sharply in her voice. "Harv, ye damned fool! Oh, gods!"
"He's no objection, this Highborn, to me 'an 'is lad havin' a drink shared," Harv exclaimed to the room as he waved one arm in a wide arc. "I'll buy the lad a drink!"
Daniel planted his hands on the table and shoved his chair back from it, using it to push Harv away. He started to rise as the wench and the innkeeper arrived.
"Highborn," she hastily called, "he be not knowing, sir. He be not knowing ye both be Highborn-- Harv, come away!"
Daniel got to his feet and darted away, deftly avoided Harv's reaching grasp. He moved to the other side of the table to the relative safety of Jack's immediate proximity. Then he turned to the room. With his head bowed he pushed the bucca back off his hair, letting the oil lamps, fire and candles shine on the light strands. His last haircut had been four months ago, back on Earth. The sun of this world had bleached his hair fairer in the desperate days he and Jack had struggled to survive the torturous trek from their late captor's destroyed ship.
At the sight of his light hair, a whooshing gasp filled the room. Jack's pale skin, his status as Highborn protected him, by propriety, by custom so ingrained in these people that no body guards were ever needed. It seemed he could walk safely anywhere. His status was one of unquestioned respect.
Daniel's, because of the color of his hair, was not of unquestioned respect. It was of reverence, of religiously deep reverence. The few humans on this planet who still had enough Earth DNA to have light hair were like prized relics, sheltered, pampered and protected.
But the patrons were in for another, deeper shock. Daniel took a deep breath and looked up, meeting the gaze of Harv, the man who'd jostled his chair moments earlier.
Harv stood a solid eight feet tall, his arms as thick as Daniel's thighs, his neck thicker than Daniel's hands could possibly encircle. At the moment of eye contact, a shock rippled through Harv's drunken haze. Harv quivered in raw fear and lurched backward, twisting his body so hard that he stumbled into the innkeeper. Both men went down.
A second whooshing gasp flooded the room as the rest of the patrons saw Daniel's blue eyes.
"Faith be," the wench swore, her face slack in wonder. "Never thought I'd live to see ever one in our town in winter, but now I've seen it, so there be no denying it. Blue. Blue as the sky, and hair of honey."
Harv lay sprawled with the innkeeper, panic seizing his mind.
"It's all right," Daniel said softly. "An honest mistake. No touch was made, Harv. It's all right."
"H-- High--" Harv tried to speak from his sprawled position. It appeared he'd wet his pants.
"It's all right," Daniel said to the woman who'd served them. "No touch was made."
His declaration saved Harv's life. To touch one of the Sky caste by force, even accidentally, meant death. And most likely Harv would have carried out the self-imposed sentence immediately by his own hand with the knife in his waist sheath. He still might.
Resignedly, Daniel turned back to his meal and sat down. Harv hadn't moved; the pub was still silent. Daniel sipped the last of his ale, feeling Jack's eyes on him, feeling the eyes of every man and woman in the place on him. He swallowed roughly and pulled the bucca back up over his hair but didn't bother to shield his face any longer. He sipped more ale, clenching the tankard in his hands.
"Eat the rest of your meal, Danny," Jack said softly, gently.
Daniel put the tankard down and closed his eyes as he bowed his head, keeping his fingers wrapped around the empty container. Then he nodded. With a cleansing breath, he returned to the meal.
Slowly, like a cautious deer emerging from cover, the noise of conversation returned to the pub.
Daniel imagined he could smell the sexual tension building around him. But that was just his imagination, he knew. The place actually smelled of ale, cooked bird, roasting apples and unwashed people. The damned veil was heavy in his pocket. Stubbornly, he ignored the ornate, and cursed piece of cloth.
The innkeeper cautiously approached their table, well within the line of sight of both humans. "Begging ye pardon, Highborn," he said with a little curtsey as he faced Jack. It was definitely not a bow, but a curtsey, bending at knee. "I've a different key for ye. Room at the front of the inn. Two windows. Even glass in 'em, Highborn. Fresh linens; the upstairs maid'll be taking care of that right now. Anything ye'll be needing, she'll fetch it. Just give a holler. Asny. That 'un's name be Asny. At ye service, she be, long as ye stay under this roof. No extra charge, Highborn. Anythin' ye need, any use of 'er, jes ask."
His head still bowed, Daniel nodded. It was expected for Jack to accept the implied offer of sexual favors from the maid. Many Highborn, those with dark eyes, would use both men and occasionally young girls, they'd learned.
"No need," Jack managed to speak loudly enough for the innkeeper to hear. His vocal cords had recovered slowly from the spider's venom. There was still a hoarse quality about his voice, as if he'd been yelling at a football game during a long night of drinking and reveling. The cough he'd developed a few days ago hadn't helped matters. And speaking more than a few words a day left him voiceless the next.
"How long until the room is ready?" Daniel asked. "We've had a long journey today." That wasn't true. They'd ridden from a nearby campsite to this village in the back of a tin-smith's wagon and had only walked a few steps to the Ram's Head inn. But even that much movement had sapped Jack's strength.
From the crash site they'd made their way north in a series of zigs and zags, from caravan to caravan, from village to village. Always northward, always toward more civilization, toward the city where the Highborn women lived behind walls and never ventured out.
They traveled toward the rumored location of a great, standing ring of sky rain, of blue water. Blue was the color of Daniel's eyes. Blue was the color that bought them passage on their journey to a possible gate home.
Realizing he'd gotten no answer yet, Daniel glanced up at the innkeeper. When his gaze met the big man's, the innkeeper seemed to sway. Again Daniel felt he could smell male sexual arousal. "How long?" he asked calmly. He knew his direct gaze would have the man's cock hard by now.
"Uhh, Tal," the innkeeper called, never taking his lust-filled eyes from Daniel. "Tal," he called again, and the serving wench rushed to his side. She curtseyed; the same maneuver the innkeeper had executed earlier. She glanced from her master to Daniel, her cheeks bright and flushed. With her dark skin, the effect was one of a deep rose bloom, soft and warm.
Daniel smiled welcomingly at her. She giggled nervously and shifted from foot to foot. Hers was not sexual, her stare. It was one of a teen-age girl who suddenly found herself face-to-face with an idol, or a hero. Daniel sighed.
"Is the room ready, Tal?" he asked.
"Aye, Sky. But I've not yet served ye apples. Roasted they are, with cant seasoning and honey drip."
"My companion and I are tired from our travels. We'll take the apples in the room, if there's a candle or oil lamp there?"
"Fireplace, Sky. And a fire already going to keep 'im warm," she added, indicating Jack. "Candles too."
She was observant, Daniel noted. She'd picked up on Jack's need to be near the fire. He nodded his appreciation. "Good. Then we'll be retiring for the evening." He was very careful to minimize his movements as he helped Jack from the chair to his feet. He kept his face turned from the men in the big room.
Tal picked up his bundle and tuc.
The great inn had thick, stone walls, sturdy enough to stand up to the abrasion of constant blowing sand. The stairs leading to the second floor were broad timbers which had been rubbed thoroughly with wax. At the base of the stairs, now out of sight of most of the patrons, Daniel squatted a bit and helped Jack wrap his arms over his shoulders. When Daniel stood, Jack's feet were off the floor. He climbed the steps, hunched forward slightly, carrying Jack.
The smooth wood of the stairs and passageway reflected the lantern Tal carried before Jack and Daniel as she led them up the stairs. At the top landing Daniel squatted again, waiting until Jack was firmly on his feet.
Tal moved forward down the dark, narrow hall, her lantern casting a small, yellow glow.
"This way, Highborn," she said, addressing Jack.
They passed a door leading, no doubt, to the kind of room a worker caste would receive, a room the innkeeper would have given to Jack's servants, if he'd had any. Perhaps Jack would have been put in that room, if not for Daniel. But Daniel's status required something as isolated as possible. He'd need to be out of the way where no one might accidentally encounter him as he came in or left his room.
Jack faltered and Daniel had him by the elbow and waist before he went down. He kept the supporting grip as they followed Tal to the more isolated room. Tal didn't shrink from his touch. As a woman, death was not an automatic if she accidentally touched him.
"Sky, thank ye for the honor," Tal said as she held the lantern higher in the dark passage.
She was referring to the fact that Daniel had touched her skin purposely, had reached out and touched her when he spoke about Jack's need of a room. He'd given her something that could not be bought. She would be sought out by men now, and if she was unmarried, would have improved prospects.
At the end of the hall, Tal opened a door and stood aside. Daniel was surprised at the spaciousness of the room. It had a large bed, a table, two chairs and a divan, a padded couch with one arm and a back that curved down to the pad, ending halfway down the seating area. The divan was by the fireplace and would be a great place for Jack to relax in the afternoons when the sun was out. They could open the interior shutters and maybe one of the windows for an hour or so in the morning.
A young girl, undoubtedly the aforementioned Asny, was adding tinder to the fire. The bed covers had been folded back. The girl looked up at the two Highborn, her nervousness plain to see. She looked dirty, smudged with greasy ash, sawdust and grime. It was the end of a hard day of work for her, Daniel knew. She also looked shockingly young, considering the offer the innkeeper had made earlier.
He guided Jack to the bed and helped him sit. Then he told Tal to put the baggage on the divan and told Asny she could leave, that they had everything they needed. Tal would be back soon with drinking water and the promised roasted apples. Daniel wanted to have Jack in bed by then.
Alone in the room, Daniel undressed Jack.
"I can--" Jack began to protest.
"Tomorrow night," Daniel said gently, "you can do this by yourself then. We had a hard journey today. You did so good walking to the inn."
"Yeah," Jack acquiesced.
Daniel nodded as he held a chamber pot for Jack's stream. "No more caravans between here and the divide. All the trade goods that go north go on pack animals or are carried by hand. Horses or on foot, it's the only choice for us."
"No trade goods ever come south out of the Highborn's city, do they?" Jack asked as Daniel knelt, unlaced his sheep-skin boots and tugged them off. He scrunched his toes as Daniel pulled his thick, woolen socks off.
"Not that I've been able to find out about, but I might be wrong. It's hard to get facts out of people who are afraid to talk to you."
Daniel knew Jack would love to have a bath, but he'd never ask for one. Jack never asked for anything on this planet. Not food, not a place to sleep. And he'd protest vehemently any luxury that was bound to cost a lot. Like a bath.
He had bitched the first few days after the crash, about the lack of necessities, the hard life they had. While he and Daniel slowly starved, shivered in the cold, and while the poison was destroying Jack's body, he had bitched and moaned about every little inconvenience. It was Jack's way to let out tension, to distract himself, to just handle the fact that he was dying.
Then they'd stumbled into their first trading caravan and Daniel had found out how to get what they needed, and Jack had never again opened his mouth about his needs.
Daniel pulled Jack's sandy robes off, his undershirt, the tattered remains of his OD green tee shirt, and the woolen pants Daniel had gotten in some little village miles behind them. Jack stretched out and Daniel draped the covers over him.
The coin Daniel had used to pay for the room and food was earned in the last tavern where they'd stayed. It had been smaller and stuffier than this place. They'd stayed long enough for Daniel to amass a good stash of coins. But hiring the tinsmith's wagon was costly. His pocket was getting pretty empty now. Water wells had begun to appear a couple of day's travel south of this village. They had clean water in plentiful supply. While some things, like fuel and food, were cheaper this far north, travel was still very expensive with Jack in his weakened condition.
"Clean sheets," Daniel said with approval as he smoothed them over Jack.
Jack smiled at Daniel, gave him the only thing he had to give.
"Love you," Daniel said as he touched Jack's face, sliding his fingertips down the frighteningly gaunt features. He leaned down and kissed Jack's forehead. Then gazed down at him again. "Love you."
"I know," Jack replied as their eyes met. "Cause I love you too."
Daniel could see the unspoken plea for him to stay in the room tonight. Jack would never say it, hadn't since that evening in the cold desert, after Daniel half-carried Jack, both stumbling, nearly frozen, starving and exhausted into Lars' encampment near the southern tip of Nortvegr. Jack had called out to Daniel, tried to stop him from completing the bargain he'd struck, and that's the last time Jack had done so.
In Lars' encampment Daniel had learned the basic structure of the Nortvegr caste system. He'd listened and learned. But it had been weeks later in a little village called Coldback when Daniel heard of a standing ring of blue water, deep within the city of the Highborn. It was Daniel's only hope to get them off this planet, get them home. It had to be a working stargate.
Daniel let Tal into their room, took the food and water from her, then politely dismissed her. She tried to ask about accommodations for Jack's servants, but Daniel waved her out of the room. After shedding his own robes in the warm room he held a cup for Jack to drink from. The unspoken plea hung heavy in the room.
"I don't need to go down this evening. I'll give the villagers a while to spread the word that I'm here. Make competition for my favor a little better," Daniel added with a short chuckle.
Moving back from the cup Jack cleared his throat. "Danny--"
"I had hoped for a day or so to assess things before . . . before I removed the bucca. Before I had to put the veil on. Horses are so expensive on Nortvegr." Daniel helped Jack lay back and then he went to put the cup on the table. He stood by it with his back to Jack. "I want two horses. I had thought just one, to lead you on. But we'll need to pack a few things with us. And if I can find someone to make a saddle with a back rest, maybe something with more than just stirrups for support for you . . . "
"Daniel . . . "
Daniel drew a deep breath, but kept his back to Jack. He combed his fingers through his hair. "I swear I've got enough sand in my hair to make a nice beach. We'll be swimming in it by morning in that bed. I'll get fresh linens tomorrow. And we'll bathe."
"No bath," Jack quietly protested.
"A bath. And I'll wash out your woolen socks tonight. Can't believe I haven't been able to locate softer socks on this whole trip, can you? These people must have no nerves in their feet."
"Danny, please."
Daniel pressed his lips together and bowed his head. "I had hoped for a day here. Just a day without them looking . . . It doesn't bother me, Jack. Not really. I just wanted a chance to blend in for a bit, get a gauge on the local politics. The tinsmith said there'd been some trouble here recently. If we knew--"
"Come to bed," Jack said firmly.
With a heavy sigh Daniel stripped. He blew out the candles and crawled in beside Jack. In the flickering firelight Daniel glanced at Jack's clear profile, then rolled away, his back to the man. He clutched the covers up to his chin and hunched his shoulders.
The bed rustled as Jack rolled to Daniel, spooning up behind him. His left hand went up to Daniel's waist, wrapped around and snugged the younger man to him. Jack's cock was soft, nestled in the crook of his groin, barely brushing against Daniel's pale flesh. Jack kissed Daniel's shoulder, then laid his cheek there.
"I'll wash your socks after breakfast. We can have the apples with warmed cider, and then I can ask Tal about bath water--"
"Hush." Jack's voice was harsh from exertion, not emotion. He'd spoken too much for one day and was losing his voice.
"Maybe it'd be better to wait until the afternoon for a bath. Let the day warm up some. We should get sunlight in here through the north window, and you can lie on the divan and get a little vitamin D--"
"Danny, hush."
"Jack . . . "
"I know. I love you too."
Noises of an inn full of people waking up, having breakfast and preparing for the day roused Daniel from the best sleep he'd had on this planet. He rolled away from Jack, climbed off the tall bed and opened the shutters on both windows. Dawn light streamed into the room, filling it with tendrils of warmth. A fat, yellow sun rose above the distant tree-lined horizon and lit his pale skin. He stood at the northern most window, staring out north-east, feeling the rays bathe his skin.
"Mm, bright," Jack said.
Smiling, Daniel turned to his lover. "Sunlight looks good on you. Haven't seen that in a while. It's beautiful outside. No wind yet."
With Jack watching him, Daniel warmed the apples on their pewter plate, carefully balanced on two sticks in the fireplace. He fed Jack breakfast in bed, giving him plenty of water with the spiced fruit. Jack had coughed several times during the night, but they'd slept well in the warm room. His eyes definitely looked brighter.
"I'll go down today and lay out the scribing cloth for a while," Daniel said as he tidied the room.
"I could go with you." Jack tried to sit up, but sagged back against the rough, wooden headboard.
"Let me get a feel of things first, Jack. This is the biggest village we've been in. I'll wear the veil. I'll be okay."
"I . . . I'd rather be with you."
"No. I'm not going to . . . No. I'll just be doing a little listening. No contact today. We have plenty of coins. Plenty of time."
"Time," Jack said disgustedly. "It's taking way too much time for me to get my legs back."
"Don't rush it," Daniel said as he got dressed. He pulled a gauzy white cloth from the tuc, the travel bag that held their supplies. The veil, worn draped over his head and tied at his neck hid his upper face and hair. It kept his blue gaze from the direct sight of men. Before he'd understood the full symbolism, the full protection it provided, back in their second caravan, he'd had the unpleasant experience of having a man ejaculate during a negotiation over a scribing job. Daniel had looked at the man he was talking to for a bit too long.
The caravan leader had found the encounter amusing, the embarrassment of the man who'd come, and also Daniel's balking reaction.
"You try to push yourself too fast and you'll end up losing ground," Daniel said sternly.
"I know," Jack said sourly, then broke into a coughing fit. "You'll wear the veil the whole time?"
"Yes." Daniel paused to look at Jack and saw the troubled gaze of his lover.
"The tinsmith--" Jack started.
"Yeah," Daniel interrupted. "I'm surprised that hasn't happened more often, actually."
"He came right in front of you, didn't he?"
"He didn't think I was looking, didn't think I noticed." Then Daniel raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realize you were looking. Maybe I’m not as observant as I think I am. You know what I thought when I found out about the veil and how it's used in negotiation? The advertising thing?" Daniel asked with a chuckle.
"What?" Jack asked. He seemed to be working to get a casual smile on his face.
"I had this image pop into my head of a guy with the veil on, and his dick hanging out of his jeans zipper. "
Jack laughed, short and hoarse. "No zippers on this damned planet."
"I know. I was picturing him standing in the low-rent district down in Denver. Some street corner."
"With his dick out," Jack scoffed.
"Ever read the khama sutra? The illustrated version," Daniel added with a grin.
"Got pictures of guys in jeans with their dicks hanging out?" Jack asked, then coughed.
"Not exactly." From his tuc he pulled a square of brown cloth, embroidered with runes around the edges and refolded it, placing it on the table. Then he pulled out a satchel with sheets of thick paper, a quill and a real glass bottle of ink. "I need to get a new oilskin to wrap the blotter. This one's a bit too small."
"Be back up here for lunch? Or should I come down to the pub and join you?"
Daniel laughed. "I could send Tal up to carry you down for lunch."
"Hell, that scrawny little Asny girl could carry me."
This got another smile out of Daniel and he turned to regard Jack. Their eyes met, gazes locked for just a fraction of a second. Instinctively, Daniel flinched away, then blushed. He turned back to Jack.
"It's okay, Daniel."
Daniel smiled. Then he draped the veil over his head, wrapped it down to his chin and around his throat and tied it in back.
As he stepped off the last stair, Daniel paused and surveyed the pub. There were many more people here now than there were last night. The people were scattered mostly among the larger tables closest to the kitchen.
He moved to the small table he'd shared last night with Jack, the one nearest the fireplace. It was conspicuously empty. It also now had a fair distance of clear floor around it. Tables had been moved away from the spot where the Sky caste had dined among them. The area by the small fireplace hadn't been very crowded last night though. Most of the worker caste could tolerate the cold much better than Highborn caste, but Daniel suspected the area had been cleared specifically for his use. No one would want to sit too close to him.
Bright sunlight shone from a thick-paned window and spilled across the isolated table. Ignoring the stares and whispers, Daniel moved a chair around until he could sit with his back to the corner facing out into the room and have the sunlight shining over his shoulder. He pulled the other chair around opposite that one. Then he sat. Tal rushed from the kitchen door, alerted by the quiet that had descended in the room at Daniel's appearance.
"Morning to ye, Highborn. Breakfast? It be long past serving but for ye my master'll whip somethin--"
"Daniel. My name is Daniel."
"Oh, not for the likes of me to be using a name for one such as ye, Highborn. Nay."
He nodded, expecting no less, but the habits of a free man were hard to break. "I'm not hungry. Tell me, is there a scribe hall in this village?"
"Course there be, sure enough. We're civilized folk here, we in Brooksmeet. Ye've need of a scribe?"
"No. I will be offering scribing services myself," Daniel said as he laid his folded cloth and supplies on the table.
The cloth was embroidered with runes. Daniel had obtained it in Corr, the second little settlement they'd visited. That's where he'd gotten clarification from a scribe on the way to offer scribing services, and a verification that prices were dictated by the guild; no haggling, no bargaining. Scribing was guild controlled. Any Highborn had the right to scribe. Worker castes had to apprentice into the guild and pay yearly for the privilege the status afforded. Though Highborn were exempt from the guild tax, they were required to abide by the pricing code. It was a two-edged sword for Daniel.
"Oh," Tal said in delight. "I suspect ye'll be having a line of customers within the hour, Highborn. Run our old scribes to ruin right quick with their customers over here faster than the hom sen blows in summer's heat."
"That's what I'd like to avoid, Tal," Daniel said with a wry smile. He realized he'd looked up at her a bit too high, and could, from under the bottom of his veil, see several male patrons glancing furtively at his eyes. He quickly bowed his head. "If someone from the scribe hall shows up here, I mean, arrives here at the inn, would you please let me know? I'd like to speak with them."
"They be both men, Highborn," Tal said cautiously.
"That's fine. I'd like to speak with them, no charge." Daniel arranged the cloth across the table from him, facing the main area of the large room. He set the pot of ink out, arranged his quills and parchment, then unwrapped his blotter.
"And Tal, what would it take to arrange for a bath? Do you have bath facilities here at the inn?"
"Bath house be down two streets, Highborn. If ye need one here, most likely the cost of a meal extra. My master will set the price, him being pleased with ye and ye Highborn here and all, it won't be a steep charge. Mind, he honors the Nortvegr, so not free. Charity hurts the Highborn," she said, repeating a phrase Daniel had heard often in his bargaining.
Highborn were held in great regard, afforded many privileges, but they were clearly not deities, had never been. While he was thankful for being treated as human, in the early days of Jack's desperate health it had also rankled Daniel. If Jack had been of the working caste, he'd have received every care possible to sustain his life without having to buy it. If he had been alone when he'd arrived at Lars' encampment the big trader would have taken him in, given him everything they could spare to keep him alive, given him every treatment they could think of. But they would not have had the knowledge to keep Jack alive.
The big working caste people seemed to have no natural illnesses, no knowledge of medications beyond simple remedies for upset stomachs, burns, cuts, or the rare broken bone. Nirrti's meddling had strengthened the people in many ways.
It was a conundrum that kept Daniel rethinking things during the first month on this planet, how things might have worked out differently if Jack had been alone, if Daniel had brown eyes, if they'd crashed farther north. All of the internal debate was worthless though; he had to deal with the situation as it was.
Jack received respect and had an unquestioned sense of safety, but was also responsible for his own survival. This kept the Highborn race active, mentally and physically, Daniel theorized. And as he'd traveled, his theory had held up in the face of more and more evidence. The people of Jack's caste, the Highborn, could work at any profession they chose, could live anywhere, own property, buildings, travel as they wished.
Daniel had the same protection, the same respect those of Jack's caste received. But for the Sky caste, there was a second element to the religious dogma surrounding their treatment. With even more restrictions, rigid restrictions on so much of their lives, these restrictions forced them to remain accessible to the worker caste, accessible sexually.
Daniel was forbidden to own anything other than what he could carry wrapped in his imparting cloth. He was barred from owning land, animals, a home, furniture, a horse . . . the list was endless. It was much easier to list what he had a right to own on Nortvegr, two scraps of cloth and whatever coins he could fit in one of the pieces of cloth. This limitation of ownership had a most profound effect on his ability to earn money. If he'd crashed here and not known the spoken as well as the written language, the only way he'd have survived would have been to prostitute himself.
He was of the highest caste in the land, a revered and worshiped religious being. And a whore, a whore who got the best room in the place for no extra charge. Because his very presence would bring more customers to the Ram's Head Inn. Men would come, they'd come even if they had no hope of affording time with Daniel. They'd come and sit in the pub, just to be near him, just to be in the same place should he grant his favor to anyone.
Tal's duties pulled her away, so Daniel finished arranging the scribing tools before him on the table. Satisfied, and fully aware that all eyes were still on him, he unfolded the embroidered cloth and spread it carefully out at the place across the table from him.
Within a heartbeat pandemonium broke out among the male patrons. This was another of those imbalances. The religious customs were more than customs. They were unbreakable edicts, concerning conduct with a Sky caste. When wearing the veil none were supposed to approach him, notice him in a sexual manner, or bargain for his sexual favor.
Yet, they did overtly seek him out. A worker caste scribe would not arouse such attention, ever.
An angular man, graying long braids akimbo, took long strides toward Daniel's table. Another man, shorter and bolder elbowed the elder man aside, causing him to fall. The shorter man reached the table ahead of the other dozen who were hot on his heels. He slid forcefully into the empty chair opposite Daniel and slapped a handful of shiny coins on the cloth.
He grinned broadly at Daniel's veiled face.
A chorus of disappointed groans bolstered the short man's beaming smile.
As the others returned to their various chairs, two paused to help the elder to his feet. He grinned genially, patted the sawdust off his knees and went back to his seat.
Daniel kept his face expressionless. He breathed slowly, and peered through the gauzy veil at the men. All were still intently watching, though good-naturedly ribbing each other about their lack of being first to buy the Sky caste's scribing services.
They were about to get a lesson in the other side of that veil rule. Daniel eyed the high value coins on his scribing cloth. Slowly he brought up his left hand. Palm down, he passed it over the cloth and pile of coins from the left side to the right. He grasped the right edge of the cloth and paused again. Then he jerked the cloth up, flinging the coins to the floor.
The short man's eyes cut to his scattered coins, his mouth agape.
With careful and elaborate gestures, Daniel returned the cloth to its former place, smoothing it meticulously. Then he sat, unmoving, his hands out of sight in his lap.
Suddenly the hall erupted in roaring laughter that bounced from wall to wall. The short man rose from the chair, his face flushed. He gathered his coins and, shoulders slumped, retreated to his table across the pub.
A worker caste scribe would never have done what Daniel just did and walked away unscathed. The veil could be used against him, and as a tool for him too.
Daniel raised his head until the lower edge of the veil was just above his eyes. He looked straight at the gray haired man who'd been pushed down, pointed at him, then crooked his finger once, and bowed his head.
The man gaped, as shocked as the shorter man had been when his coins had been cast aside. The hall erupted in louder roars of laughter, hoots of encouragement and shouts for the man to go to the scribing table. Some of his fellow patrons pushed him to his feet and got him going in the right direction.
He took a hesitant step, then straightened his shoulders, coming to his full almost eight feet of height, and strode briskly to the now-empty seat. He laid one dark coin on the cloth.
"Sorry, Highborn, for my meager request be nothing of great importance. I've only one coin to spare today."
"What service do you wish of me today, grandfather?"
"I've a need, Highborn. A letter perhaps. A short one to my youngest daughter. Her name be Kagain. Light of foot she be, Highborn, and of a sweet disposition. I've a need for her to know we here are all well. And . . . if she be well too, I would like to know."
"Done," Daniel said and pulled out a sheet of parchment. He uncapped the ink and dipped a quill. "If Kagain were speaking, how would she describe you, grandfather?"
The old man looked delighted at the question.
**
Kagain's letter
Here have come greetings to Kagain, sweet of heart and light of foot, the loved and youngest daughter of Helf of Brooksmeet.
Helf the brave and steadfast, strong and tall, sends these greetings to Kagain.
Helf, father of Kagain and father also to her sister Lyda, along with her brother Timmon, a man full grown, be well and prospering in fair Brooksmeet. Helf follows the Nortvegr. Lyda again has a girl child and a full heart. Her husband provides well. Timmon be now a'Viking bravely in the great divide since his wife was called to the land of the forefathers, leaving no child in this world.
Helf thinks often of Kagain's cheer and would be glad to know of her life and young family.
Helf sends good wishes to his youngest daughter, Kagain.
**
Daniel set the paper aside to dry, and began folding an envelope. He'd address the envelope. Helf might never send the letter; that was none of Daniel's concern. But he suspected that by the end of the day the letter would have been passed around to dozens of hands in Brooksmeet, possibly earning Helf a drink or two for the sharing of a parchment touched by a Sky caste.
The inn door opened and closed with a solid thud. Daniel saw a gaunt man standing just inside the door, gaping at the scribing cloth. He wasn't dressed for the cold outdoors, and appeared to be breathing heavily as if he'd just run to the inn. He looked almost frightened.
As Helf rose from his chair, clutching the letter like a golden prize, Daniel pocketed the coin, then deftly folded the cloth in half. Another patron, merely a step from the table groaned loudly at the sight of the folded scribing cloth. His shoulders slumped and he returned to the consolation pats of his fellow patrons.
Tal was nowhere in sight. Daniel saw a young boy hauling dirty dishes to the kitchen. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. He needed a woman. Or a girl. Perhaps Asny would be by in a little while. Before he could rise to search for her, Tal appeared from the kitchen, barely avoiding the boy who was struggling under his load of dishes.
Long skirt swirling, Tal rushed by several men who called to her. She curtseyed at Daniel's side.
"Ye've a need, Highborn?"
"I see one of the scribes has arrived," Daniel said, keeping his head bowed slightly. "If you would let him know I'd speak with him, no charge, remember?"
"My pleasure," she said with a broad grin, and was off.
Sitting and talking casually with a Sky caste would cost a man coins. Nothing about Daniel's life here on the continent known as Nortvegr was free, and had to be conducted within the constraints of bargaining for scribing services, or for an imparting. But negotiation among scribes was seen as scribe guild business, and while not actually free, did not require the exchange of coins by either scribe. Though, the conversation had to be kept limited strictly to scribe business. It made the simple task of learning about the people, the land, very hard for Daniel.
He could bargain for a room, for food, for goods on Jack's behalf, but he couldn't sit and chat unless he disguised it as part of the bargaining process. Though, if the people of this village, Brooksmeet were comfortable with him maybe eventually that restriction might ease up. And maybe not.
It was a mature man, graying who had come from the scribe hall. Breathless, he'd rushed in the great hall of the Ram's Head Inn, undoubtedly alerted by a villager who'd seen Daniel's scribing cloth and had thought to gain favor from the guild master here in Brooksmeet, or maybe he'd wanted to gloat, to be the bearer of bad news. The scribe master stood just inside the thick wooden door, his appearance disheveled. He peered across the hall at Daniel.
In the shafts of impure sunlight that shone through the thick glass of the windows high-set on the inn's walls, Daniel's white veil almost glowed. Very little cloth on the continent of Nortvegr was white. Most textiles were of wool from small, long haired sheep. Their fur ran from black to light brown. The few plant fiber cloths Daniel had found were various shades of brown.
He realized he must look like some religious painting, some Botticelli perhaps, or a Rembrandt, here in this dark room, the only white object to be seen, crowning his head.
The scribe almost bolted back out the door when Tal began summoning him to Daniel's table. She swiftly latched onto the man's sleeve and hauled him to stand before Daniel.
"You are a scribe here in Brooksmeet?" Daniel asked. "Please, sit with me. I wish to discuss scribe business with you."
The man stared at the top of Daniel's head, at the brightest point of sunlight on the white veil.
"Would you sit?" Daniel tried again.
Tal grunted in irritation. "More customers than we've had in a year and this one wasting my time?" Abruptly, she pushed the man into the chair and went about her business.
Her comment confirmed Daniel's suspicion. The inn was crowded, and that was not normal. The men were here because of him. As was the scribe seated across from him.
Daniel peered through the gauzy flap of the veil, trying to discern the man's age, gauge his nervousness. All men who spoke to Daniel were nervous. This one was no exception. He was doing everything but biting his nails. To try to reassert that this was a conversation limited to guild business, Daniel straightened his stack of parchment paper, then twirled a quill slowly in his fingers.
"I will be staying here in Brooksmeet for a while," he began, and stopped when the scribe sighed in despair. "But I don't intend to take all of your business from you. I did that in a village on the edge of the low desert. Not intentionally. I took all scribing jobs I could because my companion and I were in desperate need. Then I realized I was causing the local scribe a great hardship. She supports her family on what she makes with the odd scribing job, when the weather gets too harsh to work the rock beds."
"Highborn," the man said, nodding profusely now.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Daniel asked. "I won't take all the scribing jobs in Brooksmeet. I would like to know what percentage of business you and your partner feel you can spare. About how many jobs a week do you normally do this time of year?"
"A week? Me, Highborn?"
Daniel laid the quill down and tucked his hands in his sleeves, hiding his pale skin. That didn't seem to help the man focus any better. "I would like to be cooperative, to share with you the number of jobs. I realize some who'll come to me wouldn't normally be requesting scribe work. Is there some agreement you and I can come to about which jobs you would normally expect to be doing? Sir? Any help you can give me here," Daniel said, his frustration coming through in his tone of voice.
The man nodded, his gaze still firmly fixed on Daniel's brightly lit veil. "Ye seek to share with us?" His confusion was plain to hear. "But, if a Sky wishes to scribe, then that be his right. And nothing we can do about it, except take the loss. But, if I might ask, why?"
"Why?" Daniel scowled at the man. He'd already explained why he was talking to the man about sharing the work. He didn't want to hurt the scribe hall's business.
"Why, Highborn? It earns ye mere pittance. When one imparting could earn enough to buy more than this one could ever hope to own in a month's time--" he cut off his words and clapped his hand over his mouth.
Daniel stiffened and gripped the edge of the table. Anger flushed his cheeks. He snapped out at the man, "I don't give a sh--" Immediately he bit his own angry words off and leaned back in his chair. The man had mentioned imparting. Even speaking the word in this conversation was probably breaking a big taboo. Daniel fought hard to control his anger. He took several deep breaths as the scribe sat there shivering in fear.
Finally Daniel felt he'd gained enough control to continue. "I wish to earn a little money through scribing jobs. I'll take whatever letters people come to me to have written. I'll probably do bills of sale, family trees, and I might write some poems, verses of deeds. But I won't work long hours, so you can count on getting whatever jobs anyone wants that will take long hours. Understand?"
"Highborn, forgive this one, I beg forgiveness of ye. This one has strayed and asked when he had no right to ask anything of ye."
"Fine. You're forgiven. You can go now. Our conversation is over."
As the frightened man rose Daniel shook his head. "You were a great help," he said snidely. "Loads of information for me. Thanks a lot. Have a nice day." He turned his attention back to his supplies and began bundling them up. The sun had passed its zenith so its warm glow no longer spilled across his table. Daniel's eyes would grow too weary if he spent much time scribing now.
"Damned sun. Crap. I sound like Jack."
Back in the room with Jack, Daniel stripped off the veil and managed to drop it on the table instead of flinging it in the low-burning fire.
"Daniel?" Jack called, his voice reedy, strained. He moved to sit up in the bed, but ended up slumping back on his side, his dark eyes barely showing over the edge of the thick blanket.
"Hey," Daniel said, instantly softening his features as he sat on the edge of the tall bed. Everything in the room was too tall. From the bed, to the table and chairs to the divan, everything was sized for the average worker caste.
"You hungry? How about some stew? Something with those tubers you like so much? I could get that little girl to bring up a meal." He combed his fingers through Jack's shaggy hair. "We have all the water we could want here. There's a bath house. I'm going to shave you today. Would you like that?"
"Shave? Good idea. And you too. Whisker burn," Jack whispered hoarsely.
"Me too?" Daniel asked, rubbing his chin.
"Whisker burn," Jack said a little louder. "Kissing. Gonna do a lot of that later--" he broke off, coughing.
"Kissing," Daniel said, as he helped Jack to sit up and clear his lungs better. "I like that idea even better than the thought of a bath."
After the coughing fit passed Jack slumped back onto the pillow. "Maybe better wait. Quit coughing first. In case it's the flu or something."
"Maybe so. Though, these people don't seem to get the flu. Or any other illness for that matter."
"Noticed."
"You did?" Daniel asked in surprise. "You know, I haven't been able to find anyone who uses medicines, other than for wounds. I've seen some really wicked scars, though. These people may be merchants and traders mostly, but they do apparently share a love of swords and knives with their Earth ancestors."
"Fighting?"
"Yes. I've heard a few tales of some pretty nasty dueling. Wrote a letter today for a guy who said his son was off a' Viking in the great divide. I couldn't press for details, but that makes me think it's not all that peaceful even this far north."
"Give people time and food enough, they get to thinking about what their neighbor has that they could use. Same old story," Jack whispered.
"They're descended from Viking people so it's reasonable to assume they have a violent tradition in their history. From what I can tell, these people were taken from Earth during the reign of King Gorm, The Old. That would have been around 900 AD. By the way, did I ever tell you about Ansgar, the monk who brought messages of peace to the Vikings? He was a missionary, supposedly from Germany by way of France. Probably about the time Gorm was born. It's fascinating, isn't it? That name, how close it is in pronunciation to Asgard? Then of course there's the name Asgerd, same pronunciation exactly used in that Viking epic poem, Egil's Saga from the thirteenth century. It's about--"
"Daniel," Jack snapped.
"Oh, right. Well, I didn't gather much information today. I spoke with one of the local scribes but the man was worthless. I didn't get any information on what problems the Tinsmith said there'd been here lately. Maybe we can take a little of Tal's time later today. Though, the inn is bursting at the seams with customers. She was all over the place down there."
"Maybe I could go down later--" Jack broke off as a coughing fit took his breath away.
Daniel cradled him forward, rubbing his back with long, circular motions as Jack continued to cough. "I could get a pot, keep water boiling in here and get you some moister air to breathe for a while. We'll think about going to the bathhouse later in the week. The last few days with the Tinsmith were really hard on you, weren't they? We've been pushing too hard to get north."
Jack clutched at Daniel's arm, leaning heavily against him for support as his body was wracked with deep coughs. Phlegm, thick, but white, splattered Daniel's sleeve. "Sorry," he gasped out, and made a swipe at the stuff.
"S'okay," Daniel said with a little smile. "I've had worse on me. And at least it's white. No yellow, so you're not fighting an infection. And . . . no red," he added softly.
Jack nodded his head and started coughing again.
"You're just worn out." Daniel rubbed softer, then held Jack close and kissed his temple. "We should have waited longer to try that last leg of the journey. That last village, though, that last village, I just ran out of customers. The place was too small, so when the Tinsmith happened along, I thought it might be our last chance for quite a while."
"Don't have to justify--" Jack coughed, "--justify the decision to me, Danny. Your judgment--"
"Stop talking," Daniel said gently. "I'll get you some warmed ale. Lay down on your side for a while, okay? I'll be right back." He arranged the blankets around Jack's shoulders. "And a pot to boil some water, get the room more humid. Be right back."
"Ve--" Jack barked as Daniel opened the door. "Veil."
Daniel jerked to a halt in the open doorway. "Shit," he swore under his breath, then surveyed the hall for any men. Ahead of him the hallway was a gloomy tunnel. He could barely make out the figure of a child dressed in a drab brown shift. It was the child, Asny. She was struggling under the weight of a coal bucket as she moved down the hall toward him. She looked up and met his gaze.
Daniel blinked at her for a moment, then smiled, trying to assuage her obvious fears. The child froze in mid step, her arms trembling under the weight of the bucket. She peered up at him, then, in the dim, flickering light that spilled around Daniel's figure, she smiled at him. Her teeth gleamed bright in contrast with her dark skin.
"Is that for us?" Daniel asked, tilting his head toward her.
"Wh--" Jack croaked out half a word.
"It's the little girl. Asny. She's coming to deliver some fuel for the fire I think." Daniel stepped aside and let the child enter. She scurried right to the fireplace and began to heap coal in it.
"Did Tal send you up here?" Daniel asked as he closed the door and retrieved his veil. "It's very nice of you to keep the fire fueled. My friend, Highborn Jack and I appreciate how warm it is in here. Thank you, Asny."
The child glanced up at him, then covered her mouth with one soot-smudged hand and giggled nervously. She filled a coal box by the fireplace, emptying her bucket completely.
Daniel grinned back at her. Then as she began tidying the room he put his veil on. They left together, Asny toting the empty bucket and dirty dishes.
Deciding it was time to see how much freedom he could push for in the Ram's Head, Daniel passed through the great hall, right on Asny's heels, and followed her into the kitchen area. It was just as busy in here as it was out among the tables. Two huge ovens were blazing hot as meat and pastries were roasting in preparation for the mid-day meal. Several people were working in concert, preparing dishes Daniel could only guess at. But the big room was full of delicious smells. One wall was lined with huge kegs and he could see Tal supervising the filling of steins there.
"Tal, could I get some warmed ale, please?" he called out to her, keeping himself against the wall out of the way of the busy cooks and their assistants. As expected, all activity on his side of the room died down immediately, and people moved away from him. Daniel grimaced, but then forced a smile on his face. "Could I get it immediately? I don't want to wait to be served. I need it for my friend, something warm, but not too hot to drink. Now, please."
"Course, Highborn. Course. Want me to carry it up for ye? And food, if the Highborn Jack wishes."
"Not right now, thanks. But I do need to buy a kettle. I didn't bring one with us from our last place. I'd like to boil water in the room."
"Boil water?" she asked. "Highborn, if ye need soup, we've a whole kitchen--"
"I don't have time to discuss it. I need the warmed ale quickly. Can you make it for me right now?"
"Course, Highborn," she said as she selected a tall, pewter stein from those she'd just filled. She took it to the oven and withdrew a long, metal rod from the belly of the fire chamber, then slid it into the ale, heating the liquid quickly. "Good enough, Highborn? Warm, but not too hot, as ye wanted?"
"Fine," Daniel said quickly. "Add it to my bill, okay?" he said, then left without waiting for an answer.
Back in the room he found Jack curled up on his side, holding his stomach as he coughed.
"Here it is, Jack," he said as he pushed the veil back from his eyes. Gently getting Jack up into a sitting position, Daniel snuggled in behind him and held the tankard to help Jack sip the warm liquid.
"Mmm," Jack said as he paused after the first sip. "Helps." He swallowed more. "Warm."
"Yeah. It was heated with an iron from the fire. Very quick. Efficient. Just a little of it. That'll open your capillaries. Least, I think it will. Relax what needs to be relaxed. Then you get some sleep. I'll have the place more humid, and some stew ready for you when you wake up."
"Can't sleep."
"Can," Daniel said with a strained smile as he cradled Jack against his chest. He didn't get any bantering back from Jack, so his smile faded. He kissed the side of Jack's neck, letting his lips linger to see if the man was getting a fever, but Jack felt normal to him.
"Gonna lay you down. Need to take a piss first? No? Then you get some sleep. I'll see about that kettle."
"Danny," Jack caught at his wrist as Daniel started to leave the bed. When Daniel turned back to him, Jack smiled at him. "Love you."
Daniel gripped the hand resting on his arm, then bent low and brought his lips to Jack's brushing them softly with his own. "I don't doubt that," he murmured against his lover's lips. When Jack parted his lips Daniel deepened the kiss, his hands cupping Jack's sunken cheeks, stroking his tangled hair and caressing his long neck. He felt Jack's pulse beneath his fingers, the beat marvelously steady.
During the terrifying days of watching Jack fade as the spider venom ate at him, Daniel had succeeded where it counted most. He'd kept Jack's heart from being destroyed.
Daniel kept himself very busy for the next few days. He bought a kettle from the innkeeper and got the room more humid. He finally managed to get more than a single word out of Asny by asking her a question that required she speak, not just nod or shake her head.
With careful timing, watching for the time of day when the inn was least crowded, Daniel picked up a few scribing jobs, sticking to letters and shorter things that would not cut too much into the Scribe Hall's earnings.
Accompanied by Tal, he took a walk down to the bathhouse and ended up buying soap and a sea sponge that he put to use back in the room while Jack slept. Daniel shaved, then checking his groin, shaved that too, then gave himself a luxurious sponge bath with warm water. It was just so much easier to keep clean, staying shaved. And it made getting clean after an imparting much faster.
In previous villages Daniel had fallen into a routine of granting an imparting very late at night, when the hall had settled down and most patrons had been forced to leave to prepare for work the next day, or had fallen asleep
In Brooksmeet he'd spread the cloth twice before, and both times very late. Even with such a limited number of patrons, there would be a scramble to see who reached the chair opposite that snow-white cloth first. Coins and perhaps goods would be offered.
One early evening Daniel felt more tired than usual, but still wanted to start working harder on the purchase price of horses so he spread the imparting cloth out while the inn was still very crowded. A rush toward his table was too wild, frazzling his nerves. He sat at the small, round table, gripping the edge until the clear winner in the dash was seated in the big chair opposite him. Several moments passed before Daniel lowered his head enough to hide his gaping, startled look.
Coins were piled on the cloth, a very large pile. This man had been waiting at the inn every single day for a chance with Daniel. He'd finally won it and was apparently not going to hold back any coins for a second chance. It was all or nothing in the tight competition for the Sky's blue gaze.
After eyeing the pile of coins Daniel lifted his veil slightly and peered at the man. He looked clean enough, dressed in rumpled woolen clothing, which gave evidence to him having rarely left the great hall since Daniel's arrival. But he didn't stink. That wasn't true of all the men Daniel had subjected himself to. In the lower villages and when Jack was so desperately ill Daniel had taken any and all who came to him. Now he was lucky enough to be able to refuse men. But this man had bathed recently. His hair was clean and braided orderly. His teeth were somewhat clean too.
Daniel nodded and saw the man's face break into a broad grin. The bargain was opened.
As the man counted the coins for him, Daniel peered over his shoulder. Men and women were working hard at carrying on casual conversations, but the level of noise had dropped as it did during all of Daniel's imparting negotiations. None of the men were stroking themselves but he saw that more than one had to squirm around in their seats. A couple got up and left through the rear entrance that led to the out-house. He knew what they were going to do in that little bit of solitude.
A man and woman left, hastily making their way to one of the rented rooms upstairs at the rear of the inn. That's where Daniel and this man would be going soon.
"You have a room?" Daniel asked. He dropped his veil back down.
"Aye, a fine room and with clean covers as it be said ye want most. I mean, not said as in during an imparting, mind ye. Never would such be spoken of. Pardon, Highborn. Pardon. But clean coverings on the bed. Even not once have I slept with the covers opened. Promise ye they be clean."
"Fine," Daniel said tersely. "All the coins, and you'll get as long as you need to impart, until dawn. I have to be back . . . Until dawn if you need."
"Aye. Aye," the man said, grinning broadly.
"It won't take until dawn, though," Daniel said, making his side of the bargain as honest as possible. "I'm . . . tight. I don't want you to be disappointed in the bargain."
"Oh, aye. Never would I be such, Highborn. And . . . tight," he said, whispering the word as he shifted uncomfortably. "Aye, ye be known as . . . Aye."
So they did talk about him. That was supposed to be forbidden. Daniel glowered and considered shoving the coins back at the man. Across the hall a big worker caste man stood and adjusted his hard cock before leaving for the outhouse.
Daniel shivered and wrapped his arms across his chest.
"Ye be known as young, Highborn. And not tall so then of course . . . I be knowing, all would, that ye not be large. Though and still, this one appreciates ye honest bargaining. I will be not disappointed if even a mere moment be all I last."
"Fine," Daniel said tersely. "So you follow the Nortvegr. You don't talk about what goes on behind the veil."
"None do here, Highborn. Brooksmeet follows the Nortvegr. None in the tavern don't follow the Nortvegr."
"All right. Then I accept your offer for an imparting. Let's go now to your room."
"Aye," the man said, now sounding breathless. He rose and stood there, his head bowed and his pants bulging.
Daniel grimaced at the bulge in the man's pants. He looked huge. But then, they were all huge, all too big, all hurt. Sex hurt. He gathered the imparting cloth, bundling the gold coins in it and stuffed it in the loose pocket of his robe. The big worker caste man carried a flickering oil lamp he'd snagged from a nearby table, shuffled toward the stairs, going slowly so Daniel could keep up with him.
The great hall behind him was filled now with the most awful silence. He'd made the mistake of looking back a few times, of pausing by the bottom stair landing and peering back into the unnatural silence and seeing the people waiting breathlessly. Many of them would wait like this, silent and tense until the worker caste man returned. While Daniel was upstairs letting this stranger fuck him everyone down here would be thinking about it, one way or another. Some would break out into bawdy song, drink hearty or tell great tales of adventures.
With his jaw tense, Daniel followed the worker caste up the stairs and left, down the lamp-lit passage that led to tiny, airless rooms. Three doors down the man opened one and stepped aside. Daniel went in and waited until the big man joined him, the door shut, before he hastily began to strip. The veil came off first, and this let the man at his back breathe easier, to strip himself too.
Then Daniel, naked and pale in the bright lamplight pulled the top cover off the bed. Yes, the woolen blankets were clean. He laid down in the middle of the solid bed and rested his feet flat on the surface, his knees bent. He stared at the ceiling and waited. He should be stretching himself, getting ready.
"Oil," Daniel said. "Do you have some ready?" They almost always did. He had a small flask of oil in the pocket of his robe, but this man with the clean bed would have some.
A little, glass bottle was placed by Daniel's hand. "Good. I'm small. I have to prepare myself to take you first, or you'll hurt me. Understand?"
"Aye. Just so," the man answered. He was standing by the bed gazing down at Daniel's naked body. "As ye must, this I had heard."
"So you've heard how it is to lay with me?" Daniel opened the bottle and oiled his fingers.
"Nay, but not as of the particulars that are done during an imparting. So very wrong that would be. But aye, as to taking care, to pleasing ye as best we can."
"None of you can please me," Daniel said harshly. "This isn't about my pleasure, I promise you that."
"Aye," the man answered, but his voice had taken on a far-away aspect as lust began to rule his brain.
"All right. I'm ready. Let's get this over with." Finally Daniel took his gaze off the high ceiling and stared at the stranger's eyes. "I said I'm ready. Hurry it up." He spread his feet a little wider.
Wordlessly, the huge man clambered on the bed, bringing his thighs firmly in contact with Daniel's spread legs. He hooked his hands under Daniel's knees, just as Lars had done months ago in the low desert. He smiled down at the man beneath him.
Daniel clenched his lips into a firm line and kept his eyes locked with the big man's. In one swift motion he felt himself lifted and pulled lower down the bed, slamming his opening into contact with the rock-hard erection of the huge worker caste man.
With the shocking contact Daniel couldn't help himself. He flinched and let out a yelp of surprise. The stranger pulled him mercilessly tighter, using his thighs like levers. Daniel grabbed at the man's fingers, trying to align himself and prepare for the entry. Too swiftly the man jerked him onto his raging erection.
As if his body were nothing more than a glove, Daniel felt himself jerked onto the fat rod, his ass opening wide at the sudden intrusion.
"Slow!" he shrieked.
"Ah!" the big man gasped. His hips made rapid little thrusts, burying him inside.
Daniel bit his bottom lip hard, bracing himself as the tiny thrusts tore pain into him. He saw veins bulge at the stranger's temples. The man was trying to slow down.
"S--slo--," Daniel commanded, and then had to bite his lip to keep from screaming through one brutally hard thrust. Jack was just down the hall. He'd hear the scream. He'd know. He'd recognize Daniel's voice. He'd know. With a Herculean effort, Daniel kept his eyes open and the scream from escaping his throat.
The big man over him was sweating with the effort to obey, to slow down, to not jab himself in to the hilt.
Daniel snaked a hand down between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around the shaft that had yet to penetrate him. His fingers encircled almost half the monstrous intruder. Then with his other hand he reached up and tried to stroke the man's face. He'd hold the man out of him, keep him from going deeper, and try to trip the man over into orgasm quickly.
The stranger was biting his own lip. "Sky," he gasped out the word. "Lovely little Sky."
"Yes," Daniel hissed between clenched teeth. "Impart now. For God's sake, please. Oh! Oh, fuck," he cursed in fear as his bottom lip trembled.
The stranger bore down on him, pressing his hands into the back of Daniel's knees, doubling him up tight. Then the man rose, bearing more of his weight down through his cock.
Another inch slipped into him, despite his grip on the man's cock. Daniel yelped in pain. "Come." He ran his fingertips along the big man's eyes. Desperately he touched the man's hair, and then thought of a better idea. He touched his own hair, dragging strands of the long stuff down along his own cheeks. "Hair of . . . hair of honey," Daniel panted out the words. "Eyes. My eyes. Come."
"Eyes of blue," the stranger said as he made tiny, thrusting motions.
With his fingers still wrapped around more than half the man's cock Daniel felt it bloat, felt that swelling that comes just as a man reaches orgasm. He gritted his teeth and held on tightly, adding to the friction the man was getting from his plundered hole. Then it was here, the man's orgasm. He was coming. The organ in Daniel's hand pulsed, the fat tube on the bottom spasming as big globs of cum shot through it to be expelled into Daniel's body. Three great thrusts accompanied the spasms. Three times Daniel felt his world haze over with red.
Then the huge man was shoving back, uncoupling himself from Daniel and falling down on his side in the bed.
Daniel rolled to the edge of the bed, his naked legs and arms half hanging over the side. As the big man at his back gasped and wheezed, Daniel pulled at the edge, dragging himself away.
"Fair . . . ah, beautiful and right fair bargain, lovely Sky. Ah, was it ever so joyous. As all I had hoped."
"Y-- yeah," Daniel wheezed out his own acknowledgement that the bargain went well. He hooked his hands on the edge of the bed and pulled himself off, swaying on his feet.
"Ye did say to hurry. Ye said ye be ready and for me to . . . hurry, eh?"
"I did? Yes . . . yes, I did say . . . that." Daniel struggled into his clothing, falling against the bed and then the wall in his haste. He stepped into his boots, leaving them unlaced. The gold was heavy in his pocket, weighing that side of his robe down. He tugged the veil over his head. "Bargain's over." He jerked the door open, causing the flame in the oil lamp to gutter. Then he was through the opening and slamming the door at his back.
With a stumbling gait, Daniel fled down the hall toward Jack's room. He passed the stairs, hearing the people downstairs. They were waiting for the stranger to return, to show them all that he'd had a successful imparting. They'd buy him drinks, want him to sit with them. They'd want to touch the man and revel in his company. Because he'd just had his cock buried in Daniel's ass, had just shot his cum in Daniel.
He stumbled into the wall a few feet from Jack's door and stood there, huddled against the wooden surface. Daniel clutched his hands across his stomach, bending over in pain. Oil and cum was running from him. He bit his bottom lip and felt his head swim.
From the stairwell at his back he heard a couple of men's voices shouting out, reciting a very dirty limerick. These were people Daniel would have to face again, people he had to deal with, have meals with, live with until Jack was well enough to travel out of this village. And then there'd be another village, another inn, more strangers staring at him, watching him, imagining how it felt to slam their cocks in him, fuck him, fill him with their cum.
Silently, he made it into Jack's room, got cleaned up and slipped under the covers before his lover woke.
Endless days stretched together. During this time he forced himself to take several meals in the great-hall, picking up more of the local gossip about the mine guild-master who was blamed for several deaths. And most alarmingly, he learned several people had been killed in the past summer season by bear-like animals while hunting in the great divide.
So going a' Viking these days meant going hunting for big game animals. This was how these people earned glory. There were poets among them who composed tales of great courage. Looking at the big men around him had Daniel wondering, what kind of animal could kill in the gory ways described in these poems? And was there ever a time of year when it was safer to travel through the great divide? How could he get Jack through the craggy mountain range safely?
As the days passed Jack's cough eased up until one evening Daniel gave in to the thin man's nagging to go down stairs and get a look at the locals. He banked the fire and began to refill the steaming kettle. "Fine, Jack. But only for a little while. The place will be crowded tonight. Everyone's gathering for a market day soon. And even more crowded than usual because I did my sixth imparting here yester--" He broke off, sloshing a little water onto the fireplace hearth.
Jack rustled the bedcovers as he sat up. "Danny, if you'd rather not go down--"
"No. No, it's fine. I was just . . . I'm sorry, Jack." He stood, then gathered Jack's clean clothing. When he turned around Jack was staring intently at him.
"We could go down tomorrow--"
"It won't make any difference," Daniel said quickly. "I just didn't really want to talk about . . ."
"I'm not going to question you about . . . Okay," Jack said quietly.
"But we'll go down and have a meal by the fireplace. That table's always empty. The place could be packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder, and that table will be empty." He tugged the loose nightshirt off over Jack's head, rumpling his unkempt hair even worse. "You need a haircut."
"You too," Jack said with a sardonic smile.
"Nobody cuts their hair on this planet. They just braid it until it's too long to stand, then they whack it off with a knife.
"Shampoo would be nice," Jack quipped, then immediately winced. "I don't need any damned shampoo."
"Fine," Daniel said harshly, "because they don't have anything other than that sandalwood soap I found at the morning market in the village center."
"I meant don't buy me any--"
"I know what you meant," Daniel snapped as he carefully pushed Jack's shirt on his arms.
"Danny," Jack said softly, as he stopped Daniel by grasping his wrists. Jack closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't, Jack. Just . . . don't."
"Please," Jack whispered, then opened his eyes and gazed up at his lover. "I know . . . I mean, I want you to know that . . . I can't . . . "
"Let's not talk about it, okay?" Daniel dropped his voice to match Jack's whisper. "I'm sorry I brought up the imparting--"
"It's nothing to apologize for, Daniel. You're keeping me alive--"
"Both of us. I'm doing the only thing I can to get us home. It's not like I have much of a choice here." Daniel knelt between Jack's legs and pushed the shirt toggles through their loops. Then he began pulling clean socks on Jack's too-thin feet.
"Yeah. But if you were alone. If I wasn't weighing you down--"
"If I'd crashed on this damned planet alone, Jack, I'd be nothing but a freezing, naked sex slave. Do you realize that? For all they spout on about religion, I can't own any damned thing here. I can't buy anything unless it's understood that it's for you. If you weren't with me--"
Jack gripped Daniel's chin, forcing his face up. "If I weren't with you I'd be going out of my mind worrying about you. If you'd been taken alone, I'd be back on Earth right now driving Teal'c and Carter crazy in a mad hunt across the universe for you. I'd be--"
Daniel stretched up, pressing his lips to Jack's in a desperate kiss.
Jack groaned, clutching one hand on Daniel's shoulder while he pushed the other around the younger man's head. He ran his fingers through Daniel's long hair, gripping, tugging gently, deepening the kiss. The hiss and mild crackle of the fire punctuated the loving sounds of their long kiss.
Daniel melded his body to Jack's, straining upward. The bed was tall, and even though Jack was bowed down to meet him it was still a stretch for him to keep the kiss as firm as he wanted it. As he felt Jack sway Daniel broke off the kiss and scrambled to his feet. Gently he laid Jack back in the bed.
"Took your breath away, did I?" he asked with forced amusement.
"Always do," Jack said.
"Maybe we should just eat in the room--"
"No. We're going downstairs but not before I get some leg cover on. And the robe. It'll be cold in the stairwell, won't it?"
"Yeah," Daniel agreed, this time not having to force the lighter tone he used. "Okay, so supper down in the great hall, then a bath in the room. Clean sheets tonight too." Daniel pulled the stiff pants up, and got Jack's robe from its hook by the door.
"Yeah," Jack said. "Clean sheets."
As he was helped to his feet, Jack stopped Daniel and laid a hand along his cheek, forcing his gaze up once more. "Daniel, don't ever apologize to me again. Don't ever apologize for keeping me alive."
Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat and then tugged his veil forward.
Being with Jack in the great hall was such a totally different feel. As they shuffled toward the round table Daniel kept his head bowed, his arm firmly about Jack's waist, and grinned broadly as more of the big worker caste men hailed Jack. The men offered him a toast, or forwardly invited him to share their companionship for the evening. Jack nodded, waved a hand at some and declined all offers, whether he understood the language or not. Some of the offers seemed to include a young daughter or son's company. Some were merely for a tankard of ale.
Jack insisted Daniel scoot both chairs to the side by the fire and they sat touching, facing into the room. A robust wench, Canlith curtseyed before Jack. Tonight she had on a light colored blouse with a ruffled, low neck. Her breasts were more than half exposed, with the neck of her blouse coming down low enough to show part of her areolas. Daniel spared a quick glance at Jack and smirked when he saw where the man was staring. It wasn't at the wench's eyes.
"Food, Highborn Jack? And ale too?"
"Yes," Jack answered her clearly. "'No, wine. The . . . gray bottle," he explained, his use of the language halting at best.
"Aye, Highborn. Right quick," she said as she sped away, her long skirt swishing through the sawdust.
"See anything else you want? Something not usually on the menu at an Earth pub?" Daniel asked in English.
Jack arched a brow at him, trying very hard to look insulted. Before he could form a sharp reply Canlith was back with a bottle of the local wine and two stubby glasses. Her blouse had slipped on the way back, and one breast was completely exposed now. She arched her back, offering the ample, errant object for Jack's appraisal.
Daniel snorted.
"Hey," Jack muttered in English. "I'm willing to drink this piss-water with you. Least you could do is lighten up on the--"
Again Daniel snorted. "Uh huh. Don't suffer on my account." He looked up at the serving wench. "Canlith, an ale, please. And take away one of the glasses."
The woman straightened from the table and stared at Jack, her face showing the beginnings of panic.
Daniel studied her for a moment, then flicked his gaze to Jack who seemed just as bewildered.
"Canlith?" Daniel said. "Is there something wrong?" He lifted a hand to check that his veil was firmly in place. It was.
"H-- Highborn Jack?" Canlith said, haltingly, never taking her eyes from the man.
"Danny, what is it? Have we done something wrong?" Jack asked.
With a heavy sigh, Daniel shook his head. "I just forgot. You need to order it, Jack."
"What?" Jack turned in his chair to stare at his lover.
"You're awake. Obviously. Remember in the caravans when you're awake they tend to ignore me unless I tell them you want something."
"But the ale is for me," Jack protested.
"Maybe she didn't know that," Daniel said.
"This is stupid."
"You're telling me," Daniel said, his irritation showing. "But it's centuries of tradition we're bucking here. We do it their way, or we don't do it at all. This is what I've been dealing with for more weeks than I care to think about."
"All for a tankard of ale," Jack said, just as irritated with the situation as Daniel was. He sighed. "Tell her I don't know the word for ale. Which, by the way, I don't."
"She's not going to believe that--"
"I don't give a damn what she believed--" Jack was overcome with a fit of coughing. As he leaned against Daniel he waved a dismissive hand at the serving wench. "Maybe . . . need to rest . . . more."
As Daniel rubbed Jack's back between his shoulder blades, Canlith reappeared, two tankards of ale in her hands. She sat them by Jack, then backed away in a half curtsey, half crouch, leaving the wine and glasses where they were, also in front of Jack.
When the coughing eased, Jack sipped at the brew. "Mmm. Warmed," he said.
"They're very observant of you," Daniel said. "I don't know who passed the word along or how they figured out that was supposed to ease your coughing, but . . . " He shrugged. "Could you slide the wine over? I don't think I'm supposed to take it for myself."
"You could just do it anyway," Jack said. "Teach 'em--"
"I'd rather not buck the small stuff too much. Not until we understand the ramifications better."
"Yeah. Here," Jack said as he slid the gray bottle and a glass toward Daniel.
They drank in silent companionship as the people around them laughed and shouted to each other. No one approached their small, round table, but they often called greetings to Jack, wishing him good fortune, or raising a tankard in a salute. Someone stood on a table and recited a dirty poem which had most of the patrons roaring with laughter. A few bargains were being negotiated. A shepherd, a huge mountain of a man named Thaid, had brought a ram into the great hall. The innkeeper shouted at the owner to get the beast and its droppings back out into the cold night where such a woolly beast belonged.
Jack sagged in his chair and was bleary eyed with exhaustion by the time the food arrived. Daniel tried to stay aware of Jack, and at the same time, watch the crowd to see how differently they reacted with Jack present. Most acted as if Daniel was invisible, which wasn't that different than usual, but it now extended to the staff at the Ram's Head. That irritated Daniel so much he lost his appetite. He had wanted to just relax and enjoy a little time with Jack at his side, and instead he'd allowed his anger to spoil the evening.
"We should go up to the room. You look exhausted."
"I’m fine. Yeah," Jack said with a heavy sigh. "Okay. Just let me finish this ale."
Daniel sat back and crossed his arms, hiding his hands in the loose sleeves of his robe. There were several faces he hadn't seen before. One couple seemed to be trying to interest people in their bargain cloth. Daniel could see some kind of material on it, thick, bunched cloth. The woman looked harried, and her husband looked thin. They hadn't ordered any food or drink. They were probably in town for the market day.
He caught the man's name, Ulfrik, but not the woman's, and never did find out what they were offering in trade. With Jack in the room, Daniel didn't think it would be wise for him to get up and wander closer to the couple. Jack was barely holding himself up as it was.
The reedy sound of pipe music caught Daniel's attention. It was the first musical instrument they'd heard on Nortvegr. The musician piped along for a while, then put the instrument away.
"Okay, enough, Jack. We need to get up the stairs." Daniel stood and helped Jack to his feet.
"Yeah. A little ale and I'm down for the count." Jack hung onto Daniel as several people shouted good night to him. He waved briefly, then clung to Daniel. On the way up the stairs Jack brushed at Daniel's veil.
"Sorry I got so tired. Could have been a better evening."
"It was fine, Jack. For your first time out of bed? I'd say you did just fine. Almost to the top of the stairs. See how well you did?"
"You're carrying me. If you call that good."
"I do. Did you notice that big man?"
"They're all big, Daniel. Like giants. Everything here's big. The chairs are too tall. My feet don't touch the floor very easy. The bed's big. Too tall off the floor. Everything's too big."
"You think the chairs and bed are high, wait until you're well enough to use the outhouse."
Jack snickered. "There's a good image for me. You tiptoeing so you can take a piss."
"No tiptoeing. No urinal. It's just a wooden bench with a hole in it. A high wooden bench. Very high. So it’s the other business that presents a challenge out there."
"Ah. Well then I won't be in any rush to stop using the chamber pot. And can we change the subject? Please?" Jack asked with strained dignity.
"You're the one dwelling on it, Jack." Daniel grinned as he shoved the room door open wide and helped Jack to the bed. "But I meant the guy with the ram. He seemed confused."
"I didn't notice."
"When he was making a bargain. His name was Thaid, I think. I'll have to ask Tal about him."
"Why the interest?"
"He seemed different. I want to know, is it because of some meddling Nirrti did? We still don’t know what exactly she's done to these people other than increase their size and endurance. They seem to be completely disease resistant. No medicines, no doctors among them. Did she increase their immune systems too?"
Jack grunted as Daniel pulled his boots off. "Need sleep."
"Lie down. I'll strip you, then we'll get some sleep. The noise from downstairs is pretty dim tonight."
"Yeah," Jack mumbled, already half asleep.
Daniel didn't go downstairs until noon the next day. Jack had laid on the divan by the window all morning with sunlight pouring into the room all around him while Daniel massaged his legs. They both soaked up sunlight, and Daniel reveled in the freedom to be only partially clothed for a while.
With Jack freshly shaved, back in bed and full of warm stew, Daniel took his scribing supplies and went back down to the great hall for the noon meal. He saw the young couple he'd noticed the night before. They'd slept on the floor in the great hall, where anyone could sleep if they paid a small price, or if they bought an evening meal. He watched them huddled together in the corner, a bargaining cloth spread out.
Instead of going to his table, Daniel inconvenienced several patrons when he wandered slowly through the long tables. People scrambled back, avoiding any accidental contact. Daniel was careful to move slowly, giving everyone enough time to move away. As he got closer to the young couple he saw that the woman was knitting. She had a pile of scarves and sweaters on the table before her. They were mostly pale white, which was unusual on Nortvegr. She was working with very fine thread, and Daniel wondered if she could make softer socks. Jack needed something that didn't itch so much. And maybe sheets that didn't give him such a rash? That would be nice.
As more patrons withdrew to the exterior walls, their tankards or bowls of food clutched in their hands, Daniel withdrew from the long rows of tables and went to the area that had, by unspoken agreement, become his own territory. He heard people sigh in relief, and felt a flash of irritation at the limitations they constantly forced on his every movement.
Didn't he always move slow enough for anyone to get out of the way? Why were they still so skittish around him? When would they develop a trust in him?
"Maybe when you stop trying to order ale when Jack's with you. When you stop breaking their customs at every turn," he chided himself as he sat down. But he knew that he'd keep breaking customs, because to not do so meant accepting that he was barely more than Jack's personal slave.
The buxom serving wench, Canlith scurried out from the kitchen and curtseyed deeply in front of Daniel. He pursed his lips and felt his cheeks flush with anger. Last night still rankled him too much. "Is Tal available?" he snapped at her, noting that her full breasts were thankfully safely inside her blouse this morning.
"Aye, Highborn. Ye want her now?"
"Yes. Now," Daniel answered as he began to spread out his scribing supplies. The bright sunlight would be more than adequate for work today. He realized with a start that he hadn't missed his glasses in a very long time now. He'd gotten very used to the problem of his slight astigmatism, and now the adaptations he'd come up with were automatic to him.
"Highborn?" Tal called as she swung through the open kitchen door. She carried a tray of food for another patron and passed it off to Canlith, pointing out its destination without missing a step on her way to Daniel's table.
"Tal, good to see you today," Daniel said, trying to get some civility back in his attitude. He brushed at a few strands of hair that the veil hadn't held off his forehead well enough. "I'd like some food, please. And before you go, tell me what the young couple over there is offering for trade."
"Them?" Tal asked as she pointed a thumb to the corner of the great hall. "Him, Ulfrik, his wife does some fancy stuff with growing things. Plants. He calls them plant threads. Jarngerd does the making, she does. Weaver, most times he be. Ulfrik was a tanner until he fell on bad times. Then he does weaving. And Jarngerd, she does knitting of things. Not much will buy though. They be made of plants. Growing things. Not wool. Won't last, most think. Once she made a thing of woven grasses. I saw it with my own eyes, I did."
"Plant fibers? Like cotton?" Daniel asked, his eyebrows rising in interest.
"Co tone? Don't know what co tone be, Highborn. Plants, Ulfrik swears. Not good stuff. Won't last down here below the great divide. Can't last. Some say the Highborn city folk all wear plant threads. But down here below the divide we've little use for things that don't last long. Want ye some ale this day, Highborn?"
"No ale," Daniel said distractedly as he gazed through his veil at Jarngerd hard at work knitting in the dark corner. He tapped his fingertips on the table surface. He could send Tal or Asny over to purchase one of the ready-made items from the woman, but Daniel wanted to know if the stuff was actually plant fibers, if it was soft. He wanted a pair of socks for Jack.
When Asny had gone to the bath house and market with him, he'd pointed out what he wanted, stated a price, then the child had to hand the coins to the merchant, because it was a man. Could Daniel talk directly to Jarngerd? Get her to make him a pair of socks? Well, he could try.
He laid out the scribing cloth, but kept it folded closed. As he peered across the room at Jarngerd and her husband he finally caught them looking directly at him. Daniel tilted his head back far enough until he was sure they could see he was staring at them and he pointed, then crooked his finger, summoning them to his table.
The young couple looked as if they'd both received an electrical shock. If a zat had been used on them they couldn't have looked more shocked. But of course they'd be unconscious on the ground, Daniel realized with a grin. Though, as big as these people were, maybe a zat wouldn't take them down. No, surely it would. It would take down an unas.
As suddenly as the young couple's faces showed shock, Daniel matched it with a shocked look of his own. These people grew easily past the size of an adult unas. Was Nirrti trying some kind of backward engineering? Trying to make them closer to the first ones? The original hosts of the goa'uld? But the working caste were graceful people, with sharp intelligences. They weren't like the unas at all. Well, maybe that really big shepherd, Thaid, last night was somewhat like an unas. He'd seemed to move slowly, and he appeared to have trouble speaking and trouble understanding those around him.
Daniel realized he'd forgotten to ask Tal about Thaid. Then he realized that neither Ulfrik nor Jarngerd had moved from their table. He crooked his finger at them again and unfolded his scribing cloth. Jarngerd pushed her husband to his feet, speaking urgently to him in a tone that didn't reach Daniel above the noise of the other patrons. Several of them had turned to watch Daniel now. He was definitely doing something unexpected, he realized. He was blowing his efforts to stay within their expectations, to fit in, to become more accepted among them.
But he wanted softer socks for Jack.
Remembering the lesson Daniel had given them all on his willingness to refuse unwanted scribe business, no one rushed to take Ulfrik's intended place at Daniel's table.
Ulfrik stumbled as his wife gave him a hard shove, then she sat back on her bench, clutching the knitting to her chest. She looked even more frightened now. The young man walked toward Daniel, trepidation plain to see in each halting step.
He came to a stop before the round table. Daniel smoothed out his scribing cloth and indicated for Ulfrik to sit across from him. The young man sank into the chair as if he were sinking below rough ocean waves, never to breathe air again.
"Hello," Daniel began softly, trying to put Ulfrik at ease. "I realize you may not be seeking the skills of a scribe. But I wanted to know what you are offering in trade today. What is it that you and your wife make?" Daniel waited for an answer. "She's using plant fiber to knit clothing?" He paused again. "Could I speak with your wife, perhaps?"
Ulfrik stared at Daniel's robed chest.
"I'd like to see one of the garments she's knitted, please. Would you bring one back to the table here? I'd like to feel how soft it is."
Ulfrik continued to stare, and Daniel looked over his shoulder toward Jarngerd. She had her head bowed and seemed to be hyperventilating.
Daniel decided a different tactic was in order. "Go back to your wife and get one of the items she's finished. Bring it back here and lay it on my table. Go now," he said, making a shooing motion.
Ulfrik scrambled to his feet and fled back to his wife. He snatched up a cloth and ran back to Daniel, dropping it on the table, then standing behind the chair.
"Sit down," Daniel said, as he reached for the garment. It was a bucca, so soft to the touch that Daniel sighed as he ran his fingers over it. It had long, cloth fibers, and animal hair mixed together. "Cashmere," he said, delightfully. "Not what I want, but this is very nice. Your wife does great work."
"Highborn," Ulfrik said softly. "She does, my Jarngerd."
Daniel smiled, and was tempted to tilt his head back far enough to see the man clearly under his veil. "Does she make anything with just the plant fibers? This feels like cotton. Jack would love some pure cotton socks."
"Highborn, just of the plant alone, she makes many things. None hardly wish them, though. Preferring the wool. We have no more wool, Highborn."
"Fine. Can you bring me something made without wool? Wait," Daniel said as the young man jumped up. "Take this with you. I don't want you to think I'm going to keep it."
"Highborn," Ulfrik exclaimed as he took the bucca Daniel placed before him. He was gone and back again just as Tal arrived with Daniel's lunch. She sat it at his elbow, sparing a disapproving look at the new garment Ulfrik placed on Daniel's scribing cloth.
"Ahh," Daniel said. "Yes. This feels great. And such small thread. It must take a lot of work to spin this." He examined the linen strip, not sure what its intended purpose was. Maybe a towel? Or a scarf?
"Spinning be what I do well, Highborn. Spin the water grass, the cut-balls into thread. Wove a tapestry once. A very fine tapestry. Traded it for what was needed. Long gone though. Long gone now. A hand of winter's past."
"I'd like to speak with Jarngerd, see if she could knit a pair of socks this fine for my friend. Could I speak with her about a bargain?"
"Bargain with Jarngerd? Highborn, she be a woman! She has no need of . . . of what ye offer. Of . . . I mean, of scribing, Highborn. Of scribing."
"I understand," Daniel said, finding it suddenly much easier to be patient with Ulfrik than he had with other worker caste recently. He'd almost blurted out that his wife didn't need to fuck Daniel. And Daniel wasn't going to pull out the imparting cloth for a pair of socks. He cleared his throat.
"I have coins. Could she find a use for coins?"
"Coins? Ye'd value the plant fiber enough to spend a coin for some? Highborn . . . this one be honored."
"People around here don't seem to appreciate what you make, do they?"
"Not wool. Though, I've a mind that some day maybe they'll like the stuff as much as wool. Perhaps for a babe's bedding? Or we'll make it across the great divide and trade in the market of the City of the Highborn. If we're permitted to enter. If we find a patron."
Smiling at the rapport he'd seemed to establish with the young weaver, Daniel pulled out a small coin and laid it on the table. "If she can make me a pair of socks would this be a fair bargain?"
"Fair, fair, Highborn. This one thinks so indeed," he exclaimed as he eyed the coin hungrily. "But if the coin be all coming for the clothing ye wish, then more than two socks for its value. This one be an honest trader. As be she. As be Jarngerd. Honest. Value for value, Highborn."
"Fair enough. How long will it take her to make the socks? You can take the coin now, and bring me the socks when they're finished. And the size. I need them to be smaller than a working caste would wear, of course. Small enough to fit Jack."
"Indeed. Then ye wish to speak with Jarngerd for that reason, Highborn?"
"Yes. What other reason . . . Never mind. Yes, I do need to speak with her. Can you persuade her to come over here?"
It wasn't easy for Ulfrik to get Jarngerd over to Daniel's table. While he watched the young weaver persuade and bolster his wife, Daniel ate the steaming stew Tal had left him. It was full of meat, very tender, with cubes of a white tuber very similar in taste and texture to Earth potatoes. He savored the thick broth.
Jarngerd turned out to be a delight. She was beyond painfully shy, relying on her husband to keep her at the table, and to prompt her for answers throughout the one-sided conversation. Daniel felt confident he'd have Jack's socks by the end of the next day, and that they'd fit.
Jarngerd insisted six pair would be a fair trade for the valuable coin Daniel offered. He'd be able to keep two pair drying on a line in their room while he and Jack wore the other two pair, and had an extra clean pair. That way they'd always have clean socks. Daniel pushed the coin at the young woman, then finally let the couple flee his table. He was smiling broadly, his scribing cloth stretched out for a new customer when the inn door banged open against the inner wall.
An angular man strode in, his cheekbones prominent, his stride an inflated swagger if Daniel ever saw one. With his lip curling in distaste Daniel realized the man reminded him of Kinsey, the politician who climbed the ladder by destroying others. He'd sought to have the stargate program shut down, or placed firmly under his personal control. When he'd failed at both, he had gone after Jack and Daniel, bent on destroying them any way he could.
Peering at the man through the thin, lower layer of his veil Daniel saw him smirking at several of the patrons. Daniel kept his head still, feigning disinterest, but he peered around the room, using the veil to hide his line of sight. The room had grown quiet as voices dropped to a whisper. Neighbor nudged neighbor, lifting an elbow, or shrugging a head in the direction of the new arrival.
The sharp-faced man strode past Daniel's table, ignoring him, and stepping much closer than any man had dared to do before. He sat in one of the few chairs at the end of one of the long tables, and most of the people seated at on its benches slowly got up and moved to another table. The angular man snorted in amusement.
"Food!" he called, slamming his fist on the scarred wooden surface.
Daniel saw Tal peer out from the kitchen then disappear back inside. He saw a shift among some men near the newcomer. One man was staring at the angular man's back, and slowly withdrawing his personal knife from the leather sheaf at his waist. A friend beside him put a restraining hand on his arm and they both turned away, the knife slipping back into the sheath.
"Innkeeper!"
Tal scurried from the kitchen, a steaming platter held high in her hands. "Master Gunnlaug. Food for ye, sir. Ale comes. Canlith brings it even now, sir."
Canlith did appear then, hurrying from the kitchen. Her blouse had slipped down again, showing both of the brown circles crowning her breasts. As she sat the tankard before Gunnlaug he reached out and idly tweaked one. She gasped in pain and jerked away, clutching her hands over her chest.
Gunnlaug laughed at her pain. "Go sell your wears elsewhere, wench. I've no need of any as worn as they."
She didn't hear him. She'd fled into the kitchen before he finished his cruel laughter.
The man took a bite of the meat Tal had brought him, waving a dismissive hand at her at the same time. Then, with his mouth full, he called to her. "Send the inn keep. I want a room and some entertainment."
Tal paused at the kitchen door and glanced back at the man who was busy now, gulping the ale to wash down his food. She glanced around the room, her eyes lighting on Asny who was restocking coal in the great hall's fireplace. Tal clenched her lips in a tight line, then ducked into the kitchen.
Asny continued to empty the coal from her bucket into the huge fireplace. She stirred the coals with the long, black rod, then banked the ashes along the front. Dusting her hands off, she began working among the tables, gathering dishes. Her chores usually kept her out of the great hall, but with the influx of people gathering for the market day coming up, Tal had told Daniel the young girl would be unavailable upstairs during the mid day meals for a while.
As the innkeeper came in, wiping his hands on his stained apron Tal walked soft-footed behind him, then darted away toward Asny.
"Master Miner," the innkeeper said. The rotund man towered over Gunnlaug, rocked back on his heels and glared down his bulbous, red nose at the smacking man.
"A room," Gunnlaug said. "A quiet one, innkeeper. And that little slip of a thing you have making beds for these filthy lot. But wash her first. I've no desire to leave here with coal stains on me. Get enough of that I do, dealing with them that works for me."
"I don't work for ye, Gunnlaug. Show me a coin."
"Ha! I've more than enough. Got the leavings of those two who went down yesterday. Dead they be. Not coming back up."
Daniel saw the man who'd half drawn his dagger earlier. He was rising to his feet again, his face a mask of anger. His friend pulled at him and with another's help, got him out the door.
Gunnlaug didn't seem to notice the commotion at his back. He seemed superbly confident in his security. Master miner, the innkeeper had called him. Daniel wondered if that meant he was head of the local guild hall, or more. And he was renting a room and . . . and . . .
"Tal!" Daniel called, catching her as she returned from the bottom of the stairs. Where had she been? He scanned the room quickly. Asny was nowhere to be seen. Tal had spirited her away. As she approached him, Tal glanced nervously toward the innkeeper and the master miner.
"Highborn?" she said with a curtsey.
"Tal, I need . . . I mean, the Highborn Jack needs a tray of food brought to his room. He wants Asny to bring it, and then to stay and help him eat. Make sure she has no other duties, please."
Tal rolled her lips inward and glanced from Daniel to where her boss was speaking with Gunnlaug. "Highborn, if ye wish it, surely it can be made so. If ye wish . . . " She took a faltering step toward the staircase.
"Asny!" the innkeeper called toward the kitchen. "Canlith, get out here, wench. Fetch the girl from wherever she got off to."
Canlith stood in the doorway glaring at the master miner. She was wringing a towel in her hands.
"Canlith!" the innkeeper shouted.
The ample wench startled, jerking her gaze from Gunnlaug to the innkeeper. With a squeak of fright she fled up the stairs in search of Asny.
"Tal! Where's that lazy girl got off to?" the innkeeper called, then saw she was near Daniel's table. "Begging ye pardon, Highborn. Have ye a need of Tal?"
"She's on an errand for me," Daniel calmly replied.
"Highborn," Gunnlaug said, his voice rising as if he had just discovered Daniel in the room. "And offering to scribe for the poor souls here who can scrape together enough coins." The angular man stood, his tankard in one hand and a roasted bird wing in the other. He tore off a bite and chewed as he smiled at Daniel, never taking his eyes off him. After washing the bite down with ale, he handed the tankard to the innkeeper and sauntered to Daniel's table. "Innkeeper," he said, still staring at Daniel, "have the room ready right quick. And the little maid."
He pulled the chair out across from Daniel and dropped into it. His thin limbs sprawled casually. "So, young Highborn. I might have a need of ye services. I might. Ye've not many winters on ye, eh? Been south of the divide long? I'd say not, with skin that smooth. Trapped south by the winter, eh? I heard there was Highborn here. One who sleeps, and one who . . . scribes," he said, drawling out the word. "I'd make a bargain with ye. I've coin enough."
"Master miner," Tal interrupted. "The room be ready but the maid be--"
"What!" Gunnlaug sneered at her. "Wench, I be bargaining here. Ye interrupt!"
" . . . she be . . . busy," Tal finished weakly. "She be too young--"
Gunnlaug jerked to his feet and turned on her.
Quickly Daniel folded his scribing cloth in half. "Innkeeper," he called loudly, keeping his face down, "Jack needs-- Is the Highborn Jack's meal ready? You don't wish to keep him waiting. Asny is supposed to be taking it to him now, and staying to see to his personal needs."
"Highborn Jack?" the innkeeper asked, ire clear to see as he cut his gaze to Tal's flushed face. "Ye sent her with the meal? We don't keep the Highborn waiting here. Not at the Ram's Head, not as long as I'm master here," he added, redirecting his glare at the master miner. "Master of Ram's Head and all that happens here."
Gunnlaug straightened to his full, formidable height, and returned the innkeeper's glare. "Surely some older wench will do to serve a meal. That one with the sagging tits, I'd suspect--"
"Highborn Jack requests the child," Tal interrupted, then took a step away from Gunnlaug.
"See to it, Tal," Daniel said calmly, his head bowed. "And," he added, as he idly thumbed through his parchments, as if checking them for flaws, "Jack never shares what's been offered. Never."
The innkeeper planted his fists on his hips, then let out a slow hiss through his clenched teeth. "Aye. The offer was made. For as long as he be a paying guest at my inn." He stressed his ownership, his rule of the Ram's Head Inn. "Sorry, master miner, but the girl may not be had while the Highborn Jack resides here."
This time it was Gunnlaug who took a step back, his mouth gaping in frustration. With his entertainment plans thwarted he whirled back to Daniel's table.
Before the man could seat himself, Daniel ran a finger along his scribing cloth, making sure all near him saw that it was folded closed. No man could approach him now, or speak directly to him.
Gunnlaug's lips were drawn into a thoughtful pout. He eyed the folded cloth, then looked over his shoulder at the innkeeper.
Daniel was surprised then, when Gunnlaug began to laugh. But it wasn't a pleasant sound. He was reminded again of Kinsey. He watched warily as the master miner stalked out of the inn, his sneering laugh lingering like a stinking cloud behind him.
"Cost me some, I think, coal prices being set by that one," the innkeeper said as he eyed the closed door. "Nothing for it now, though. The Highborn was offered the girl. She be his to do with as he pleases." He turned back to his kitchen, and conversation noise built quickly in the great hall.
Tal let out a heavy sigh, and then turned to Daniel, her eyes bright with moisture. "Highborn, anything special ye want on the meal tray? Warmed ale?"
"No. Actually, just some water. Tell her to make sure the boiling pot is full, and not to wake Jack, understood?"
She came to his table and knelt, one knee on the sawdust covered floor by Daniel's foot. "Not to wake him?" she asked in a whisper. "But my master thinks . . . To honor the offer . . . "
Daniel looked at her. Though she was kneeling, she was as tall as he was seated. For a moment Daniel felt like a child beside the big woman. He pushed his toes down, aware again that this chair was made for the typical height of a working caste man. His heels didn't quite touch the ground when he was scooted all the way back in the chair.
"Jack could use a massage after his nap. His muscles ache." He peered under the edge of his veil. "A massage. Just a rub of his arms and legs mostly." Tal still looked confused so Daniel smiled to reassure her, then made circular motions on his own arm. "Rub the muscles to relieve the aches. I'll teach her what to do."
"Aye. Just so, Highborn."
Before she could rise, Daniel laid a hand on her sleeve. "You thought I meant he was going to . . . seek pleasure with her?"
She nodded, her eyes downcast.
"And you were willing to . . . I guess, eager to have her be with Jack instead of that man?"
"Highborn Jack, he's a gentle man."
"So it was because he's Highborn?"
Tal smiled and shook her head, keeping her eyes down. "Nay. Highborn Jack, he makes the child not afraid. As do ye. She came from the children's hall, the place for the young ones without family, and hadn't hardly spoke a word all her days here. She be a hard worker, though, she be. And earns her keep here. But, since the Highborn's come, she now has got a way about her. Works faster, and no crying."
"I see. Well, no one needs to know what type of personal service she'll provide Jack with, do they?"
"Just so, Highborn." Tal nodded, and then gave him a wide smile.
That evening Asny knocked on their door, and Daniel, his head bare, let her in. She carried more water, seeming to take this new duty very seriously. Perhaps Tal had explained what fate she'd narrowly avoided.
"You can check the kettle if you want, Asny, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't boiled down much since the last time you filled it."
She looked gravely disappointed for a moment, but then squared her shoulders and checked the kettle anyway. Daniel had used some of the hot water earlier to give Jack a sponge bath and a shave. It was a great luxury to have hot water always ready now.
"We're growing spoiled, Jack," he said as he straightened the blanket and helped Jack sit up straighter in the big bed. Then Daniel sat, leaning against the headboard, his arm around Jack's shoulder. He yawned and stretched his legs out.
"Asny," Jack called to the girl, "you plan on helping Daniel spoil me?"
The child glanced back at him and grinned shyly, and then busied herself working the coals around in the fireplace. When she was satisfied she stood and turned to face the bed.
"The weaver, Highborn," she whispered.
"Weaver?" Daniel asked her.
The child looked up at Jack, her eyes avoiding Daniel completely. "Weaver be here."
"Oh, the weaver? Ulfrik? Is he here?" Daniel asked, then climbed off the tall bed and searched for his veil.
Asny scooped it from the divan and held it out to him, her head bowed low.
"How did you know I wanted that?" he asked, but got no answer. "Jack, I think the guy I traded with might have a question about something his wife is making." Daniel tied the veil on, but pushed the front up as he spoke to Jack. "Or maybe his wife has managed to get brave enough to speak to me. They're both weavers, really. But she knits. Anyway I don't suppose you really needed that explanation. I'll just go down and see what they want."
"No," Jack protested. "Let Asny find out. It's warm in here, Daniel and you're tired. Stay here and rest." Jack punctuated his sentence with a cough.
Daniel halted in mid motion, as he was struggling into his robe. He looked at Jack and saw that he was smiling gently. Maybe he really just wanted Daniel's company, and wasn't worried about any imparting.
"Be here," Asny stressed, this time pointing at the door.
"Outside our door?" Daniel asked in surprise. Before the girl could answer him he opened the door and peered into the hallway.
"Jarngerd, Ulfrik," Daniel called to the two worker caste whose bulky outlines filled the passageway. "Do you have a question about the trade?"
"Danny, invite them in. What did you trade for? Can they come in?" Jack asked. "It’s warmer in here, and the air's nice and humid. Have them come in here. You don't need to be down in that cold hall tonight."
"Come in," Daniel called to them, stepping aside and holding the door wide. "The Highborn Jack says you should come in here," he added, then stepped back to the side of the bed, leaving ample space for the two to enter.
Ulfrik stepped into the doorway, with Jarngerd all but hiding her face in his armpit. "The child was to say they are ready. Two are, Highborn, for you. That be all. She was supposed to ask if we might leave them at the door. Not ask if we should come in. It be not for the likes of us to come in."
"Nonsense," Jack said. "Get in here. What are you delivering?"
"You heard him," Daniel said to the young couple. "Please, come in. Have a seat." He pointed at the divan where Jack spent his mornings.
"Weavers?" Jack asked as the timid couple scurried across the room, moving, for all their bulk, gracefully to the divan. It held them easily, having been made for worker caste.
Ulfrik sat with his arm around his wife, and both stared at the dark, wooden planking of the floor. Asny moved to the young couple, seeming more at ease than she'd ever been.
"This is Ulfrik and Jarngerd," Daniel introduced them. "This is the Highborn Jack. Would either of you care for some wine?" Daniel asked. He took a step toward the table at their side, but when they both flinched inward on themselves, he stepped back by Jack's side. "Asny?" Daniel said.
The child smiled quickly, and then moved to pour a small bit of the brownish wine in the two glasses on the table. She held one out to each of the worker castes. They took the wine, thanking Jack profusely and insisting they weren't worthy of the honor, but not refusing the drink, none-the-less.
"You have a question about the measurements?" Daniel prompted.
Jarngerd shook her head, and then handed her glass to her husband. She opened her brown tuc and pulled out two finely knitted socks. "Two more will be ready tomorrow, Highborn."
"Oh my," Daniel exclaimed. "That was fast work. They look great," he said as he forgot her timidness and went quickly to her. He took both socks, rubbing them to feel the luxurious softness and peering at them under the edge of his veil. "Oh, they're just what I wanted. Cotton socks, Jack!" he exclaimed as he rushed back to the bed.
"Cotton?" Jack said, perking up as he saw what Daniel held. "Soft? Oh, man. My lucky day."
"They feel great. Let me try them on you. They're made of a very fine spun thread. When it's really cold you can wear these inside your wool socks. Won't that feel great?"
Jack and Daniel together pushed the covers down the bed and happily got the socks on Jack's feet. Moving so much had Jack coughing for a moment.
"Ahh. Spoiling me rotten, Daniel." Jack scrunched his toes up, running his feet up and down in the bed. "I can't believe how good a simple luxury like soft socks are. Ahh," he sighed the sound again as he laid his head back against the tall pillows and closed his eyes.
Daniel beamed a smile at the young couple. "That was very fast work. I hope you didn't neglect any other orders to do mine so quickly."
This time it was Ulfrik who did the nudging, and Jarngerd who managed to speak directly to Daniel. "Nay, Highborn. No others buy from us here. We've no wool left. Worker caste, they don't care for the growing threads as it be said those in the Highborn city do."
"Well, maybe they've just never thought of the idea of using the stuff as glove liners or socks. Or underclothes. You do weaving out of this thread too, right? I'd like to have you make a shirt--" he broke off as he searched through his things and found the tattered remnants of his BDU tee shirt and handed it to her. "If you could make a couple of garments like this? Of course the neck would probably have to be looser, this one stretches, and I imagine that's not possible the way you knit."
The woman studied the garment intently. Daniel watched her for a moment, then went back and sat by Jack again, their shoulders touching firmly.
"Have you been to the city of the Highborn?" Jack asked.
"Aye," Ulfrik answered. "When I was but a babe, my da went there to trade tanned hides, Highborn."
"We'll be going there across the mountains soon," Jack assured him.
"Not soon, Highborn." Ulfrik said as he shook his head.
"No, not soon," Daniel agreed. "Jack has some healing to do. I understand it's best to travel through it on horseback."
Ulfrik dropped his gaze to the floor when Daniel spoke, then he looked up at Jack. It was clear that he'd heard Daniel's comment but he continued to address Jack.
"Horseback through the great divide, when the ground be not soaked with winter melt-off. Some go through then on foot, with the small pack-beasts. But hard on the heels of that time summer comes. No traders travel the great divide when the claw beasts are out of their hiding. They tear a man so that he be tattered and dead."
Asny had been quietly sitting by the hearth until that moment. She sucked in a breath and covered her face with her hands.
Daniel glanced at her, then turned to Ulfrik. "They leave hibernation in summer?"
The young weaver continued to address Jack. "They leave their hiding places and hunt men. None go traveling unless they go to hunt and kill the claw beasts. Be ye a hunter, Highborn Jack? I've never heard tell of a Highborn hunting the claw beasts, and no Sky should be placed in such a path of danger. Surely ye mean to go by way of the sea after the melt?"
"Why can't you answer Daniel directly?"
Ulfrik blinked at Jack.
"Daniel," Jack prompted him again. "Highborn Daniel."
"Jack," Daniel cautioned, placing a hand on the reclining man's shoulder. He murmured in English, "They don't . . . They can't use my name."
"What?" Jack asked, sounding mystified. "They can't use your name?"
"No. It's some religious thing. A Sky caste doesn't seem to have a name. I suppose it keeps them more anonymous or mysterious or something." He shook his head.
Jack turned back to Ulfrik. "I'm not going to pretend that Daniel doesn't have a name. Everyone has a name. If you can't use his, fine. But I won't pretend that he's not in the room or that he doesn't deserve to be spoken to, or doesn't deserve the courtesy of being answered when he asks a question. Understand?"
Ulfrik slid from the divan and knelt on the floor, his forehead pressed to the bare wood. "This one offends," he declared.
Jarngerd clutched her hands to her face in the same way Asny had. She began to weep in fright.
"Well, now you've gone and done it," Daniel said. He got up off the bed and took a step toward the prostrate man. "And I don't have any idea how to fix this." He put his fists on his hips.
"Come back here," Jack snapped at Daniel. His command was punctuated with a cough. "Sit down. Now, Ulfrik, get up. Get up right now. Sit beside your wife and pay attention."
The young man scrambled to his feet and sat ram-rod straight beside the weeping woman. His eyes stayed focused on the floor.
"You were doing just fine when you were talking to Daniel about the socks. Why start ignoring him now?"
"Highborn Jack," Ulfrik said, breathing heavy, and making his words gush out, "to speak of a bargain, to deliver the socks, that be proper. To speak to a . . . a Sky," he whispered, cringing and clenching his eyes shut, "outside of any bargain about an im-- im--" He wrapped his fingers over his mouth and shook his head.
"Okay