Kaspar concluded.
“If that is where you wish to be, yes.”
“Where I wish to be is home,” said Kaspar with an edge of bitterness in his voice.
“Tell me about your home,” asked Jorgen.
Kaspar glanced over his shoulder and saw the boy grinning, but his irritation died quickly. To his surprise, he found himself fond of the boy. As ruler of Olasko, Kaspar knew he would eventually have to marry to produce a legitimate heir, but it had never occurred to him that he might actually like his children. For an idle moment he wondered if his father had liked him.
“Olasko is a seafaring nation,” said Kaspar. “Our capital city, Opardum, rests against great cliffs, with a defensible, yet busy harbor.” As he plodded along, he continued, “It’s on the eastern coast of a large—” he realized he didn’t know the word for continent in the local language, “—a large place called Triagia. So, from the citadel—” he glanced at them and saw that neither Jojanna or Jorgen looked puzzled by the Keshian word “—from the citadel, you can see spectacular sunrises over the sea.
“To the east are table lands and along the river are many farms, quite a few like your own…”
He passed the time telling them of his homeland, and at one point Jorgen asked, “What did you do? I mean, you’re not a farmer.”
Kaspar said, “I was a hunter,” a fact he had already shared with the boy, when he dressed out a slaughtered steer to hang in the summer house—as he thought of the underground cave with a door they used to store perishables. “And I was a soldier. I traveled.”
Jorgen asked, “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Traveling.”
“Like this,” he said. “A lot of walking, or sailing on a ship, or riding a horse.”
“No,” said Jorgen, laughing. “I mean what were the places like?”
“Some like these Hotlands,” answered Kaspar, “but other places are cool and rainy all the time…” He told them of the nations around the Sea of Kingdoms, and talked of the more entertaining and colorful things he had seen. He kept them amused and distracted until they crested a rise and saw the village of Heslagnam.
Kaspar realized that he had expected something a bit more prosperous, and felt disappointed. The largest building in sight was obviously the inn, a two-story, somewhat ramshackle wooden building with an improbable lime-colored roof. A single chimney belched smoke and the establishment boasted a stable in the rear and a large stabling yard. There were two other buildings that appeared to be shops, but without signs to herald their merchandise. Kaspar was at a loss to know what one could or could not buy in the village of Heslagnam.
Jojanna instructed Jorgen to herd the two steers into the stable yard while she and Kaspar went inside.
Once through the door, Kaspar was even less impressed. The chimney and hearth had been fashioned from badly mortared stones and the ventilation was poor; as a result, the establishment was reeking with the odors of cooking, sweaty men, spilled ale and other liquids, moldy straw, and other less identifiable smells.
The inn was presently unoccupied, save for a large man carrying in a keg from somewhere at the rear of the building. He put it down and said, “Jojanna! I didn’t expect to see you for another week.”
“I’m selling two steers.”
“Two?” said the man, wiping his hands on a greasy apron. He was a thick-necked, broad-shouldered man with an enormous belly, and he walked with a rolling gait. He bore a handful of scars on his forearms, exposed by rolled-up sleeves, and Kaspar recognized him as a former soldier or mercenary. He could see that under the fat lay enough muscle to cause trouble.
He looked at Kaspar as he spoke to the woman. “I don’t even need one. I’ve got a quarter still hanging in the cold room and it’s aged pretty nice. I could maybe take one off your hands, stake it out in the back, then slaughter it next
“If that is where you wish to be, yes.”
“Where I wish to be is home,” said Kaspar with an edge of bitterness in his voice.
“Tell me about your home,” asked Jorgen.
Kaspar glanced over his shoulder and saw the boy grinning, but his irritation died quickly. To his surprise, he found himself fond of the boy. As ruler of Olasko, Kaspar knew he would eventually have to marry to produce a legitimate heir, but it had never occurred to him that he might actually like his children. For an idle moment he wondered if his father had liked him.
“Olasko is a seafaring nation,” said Kaspar. “Our capital city, Opardum, rests against great cliffs, with a defensible, yet busy harbor.” As he plodded along, he continued, “It’s on the eastern coast of a large—” he realized he didn’t know the word for continent in the local language, “—a large place called Triagia. So, from the citadel—” he glanced at them and saw that neither Jojanna or Jorgen looked puzzled by the Keshian word “—from the citadel, you can see spectacular sunrises over the sea.
“To the east are table lands and along the river are many farms, quite a few like your own…”
He passed the time telling them of his homeland, and at one point Jorgen asked, “What did you do? I mean, you’re not a farmer.”
Kaspar said, “I was a hunter,” a fact he had already shared with the boy, when he dressed out a slaughtered steer to hang in the summer house—as he thought of the underground cave with a door they used to store perishables. “And I was a soldier. I traveled.”
Jorgen asked, “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Traveling.”
“Like this,” he said. “A lot of walking, or sailing on a ship, or riding a horse.”
“No,” said Jorgen, laughing. “I mean what were the places like?”
“Some like these Hotlands,” answered Kaspar, “but other places are cool and rainy all the time…” He told them of the nations around the Sea of Kingdoms, and talked of the more entertaining and colorful things he had seen. He kept them amused and distracted until they crested a rise and saw the village of Heslagnam.
Kaspar realized that he had expected something a bit more prosperous, and felt disappointed. The largest building in sight was obviously the inn, a two-story, somewhat ramshackle wooden building with an improbable lime-colored roof. A single chimney belched smoke and the establishment boasted a stable in the rear and a large stabling yard. There were two other buildings that appeared to be shops, but without signs to herald their merchandise. Kaspar was at a loss to know what one could or could not buy in the village of Heslagnam.
Jojanna instructed Jorgen to herd the two steers into the stable yard while she and Kaspar went inside.
Once through the door, Kaspar was even less impressed. The chimney and hearth had been fashioned from badly mortared stones and the ventilation was poor; as a result, the establishment was reeking with the odors of cooking, sweaty men, spilled ale and other liquids, moldy straw, and other less identifiable smells.
The inn was presently unoccupied, save for a large man carrying in a keg from somewhere at the rear of the building. He put it down and said, “Jojanna! I didn’t expect to see you for another week.”
“I’m selling two steers.”
“Two?” said the man, wiping his hands on a greasy apron. He was a thick-necked, broad-shouldered man with an enormous belly, and he walked with a rolling gait. He bore a handful of scars on his forearms, exposed by rolled-up sleeves, and Kaspar recognized him as a former soldier or mercenary. He could see that under the fat lay enough muscle to cause trouble.
He looked at Kaspar as he spoke to the woman. “I don’t even need one. I’ve got a quarter still hanging in the cold room and it’s aged pretty nice. I could maybe take one off your hands, stake it out in the back, then slaughter it next
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