Antsy jumped in his seat, then glared at her. ‘Stop doing that! Anyway, I didn’t mean that kind of help. Oh, gods, my head aches.’
‘Sometimes,’ Blend said, ‘I try to make myself as quiet as possible because that way the military marching band in my skull maybe won’t find me.’
‘Huh,’ said Antsy, brows knitting. ‘Never knew you played an instrument, Blend. Which one?’
‘Pipes, drums, flute, rattle, horn, waxstring.’
‘Really? All at once?’
‘Of course. You know, I think I’d be annoyed if I headed upstairs and found Picker creeping out of Scillara’s room right about now.’
‘So stay sitting right there.’
‘Well, it’s only my imagination inventing the scene.’
‘You sure?’
She lasted four or five heartbeats before swearing under her breath and rising.
Antsy watched her leave, then smiled. ‘It’s better,’ he said to no one, ‘when you don’t have an imagination. Like me.’ He paused, scowled. ‘Mind, could be I could use one right about now, so I could figure out how and when them assassins are gonna try again. Poison. Magic. Knives. Crossbow quarrels in the night, through the window, right through the shutters, a perfect shot, Thump to the floor goes Antsy, the Hero of Mott Wood. A spear up through that floor just to finish him off, since they been tunnelling for weeks and was waiting, knowing he’d fall right there right then, aye.’
He sat, eyes wide, red moustache twitching.
Sitting in the shadows in the far corner, back resting against the wall, Duiker watched with wry amusement. Extraordinary, how some people survived and others didn’t. The soldier’s face was always the same once the mask fell away-a look of bemusement, the faint bewildered surprise to find oneself still alive, knowing all too well there was no good reason for it, nothing at all but the nudge of luck, the emptiness of chance and circumstance. And all the unfairness of the world made a bitter pool of the eyes.
A commotion from the back room and a moment later the narrow door opened and out walked the bard, grey hair tousled by sleep, eyes red even at this distance. A glance over at Antsy. ‘There’s lice in the mattress,’ he said.
‘I doubt they mind the company,’ the ex-sergeant replied, levering himself up-right and making for the stairs.