Dragon Kiss - Chapter 2 Scene 1

The screams turned to curses, accompanied by the crash of shattering pottery. Roland jumped up and shook his head, as if shaking out the grogginess from his head. His clothes were folded on the table, and he quickly put them on. Despite the chaos, there was a smell of contentment coming from above, and Roland thought of his Ma and a winter sunrise as he climbed the ladder. It was the smell of freshly baked bread, and it came from the fireplace where Wilkin crouched, surrounded by broken bowls and steins. His ma hurried to him. The stone worker that had touched Wilkin’s ma was leaning against the counter with a knife teetering out of his bum. Blood stained his tunic and trickled onto his breeches.

A guard from the Moon Gate slammed the door open, dagger drawn, as he entered with one of the stone workers. He wore a chainmail hauberk and coif and carried a small, round shield with a spike in the middle. The injured dwarf let out a yell and pointed to Wilkin.

“He did this, the little devil-cat. Just came up behind me and poked me with his knife.”

The guard looked towards Wilkin, hugging his Ma. The inn’s lodgers sat on furs along the wall and stared at the guard, as well as the knife sticking out of the dwarf’s bleeding bum. No one moved, and all were silent. The guard sheathed his dagger and placed his shield on the table. His laugh mingled with the crackling fire. The dwarves started to whisper, Wilkin let go of his Ma, and the injured dwarf stood upright and looked annoyed.

“Dwarf boys these days, eh? Going around, poking dwarves in their backsides with their tiny knives. Must be a big problem for you stone workers, bending over all the time. Try to pick up a big brick and you get a tiny poke instead.”

The guard sat down on the bench and the lodgers either laughed or scowled, depending if they were a stone worker or not. Roland walked to the wounded dwarf and said, “The guard has seen it. You need to get that out of there.”

“You think?” the dwarf shouted. “But I’m not moving or taking that out till the owner of this inn has seen for himself what happened. Then you, she-dwarf, will get over here and take care of this. It was your spawn that did it.”

“Do it yourself. I won’t touch you.”

“Heather, what did he do to you?” the guard called out to Wilkin’s ma. “Ertok is going to be here soon. Get your story out so I can help. And I suggest to all you stone workers here that you don’t make anything up. There is an Estate Lord here and the governor won’t be happy this happened where he was staying.”

Heather told Wilkin to sit on a stool by the fireplace and went over to the guard. Roland followed his nose to the fireplace where he found three loaves of round flat bread on the hearth. Next to it was his pigeon, cleaned and laying in a bowl full of stew. He handed one of the loaves to Wilkin who was wiping snot on one sleeve and drying his eyes with the other. Wilkin took it, and the two gave each other a faint smile. After picking ceramic shards of his food, Roland sat and devoured the pigeon. As he ate, Heather told the story in whispers about what happened. He heard enough to know the stone worker threatened to rape her if she wouldn’t go willingly for a price, but couldn’t hear the details about it or the stabbing. With the pigeon finished, he placed the carcass on the table and started to dip pieces of the bread into the stew. He had finished a few bites when Ertok walked in. He scanned the room till his eyes set on Wilkin. He stormed over, without acknowledging Roland, and pulled him by the braid to Heather.

“Goddess Hel, bastard boy, I hope you rot in Niflheim. Do you know what you’ve done? Do you? Do you?”

He slapped Wilkin across the face and pushed him into the bench. The guard stood and stepped between Ertok and the boy. “That’s enough, sir. He was protecting Heather.”

“Don’t dare tell me when it’s enough. You are not going to be the one taking care of this, I am. I am,” he said as he poked the guard in the chest. Ertok grabbed Heather’s wrist and squeezed until she grimaced. He took a step towards her so his face was just a few inches from hers and said, so the whole room could hear, “You will forgive the good dwarf’s mistake, far from home and in the company of a she-dwarf with a son and no husband. We would all assume you are willing, and we all could have gained from it, yes?” He squeezed her wrist harder before letting go and walked to the door.

“No cost for any of you tonight or tomorrow, including food,” Ertok called out to the lodgers. “The injured one stays free until the wall is finished, and I will make it up to you, that’s a promise. A promise. I will also bring new breeches and a tunic of equal value to the ones you have on, but I want yours in exchange. The boy will leave by sun fall and never come here again. Heather, treat the wound, then go to my store and wait for me.”

The light of sunset shone through the dust as Ertok opened the door and left. The guard patted Wilkin on the shoulder as he began to cry. A few of the lodgers called out comfort to him, such as ‘You’ll be alright,’ ‘Don’t worry boy,’ and ‘Well done, he deserved it’. Others called out to Heather, saying ‘Do your job she-dwarf,’ ‘Your boy’s a devil –cat, fix him’ and ‘Give him a free one, that will heal him.’ Heather didn’t respond to them, but shared whispers with the guard, and he left with Wilkin.

She went to the fire and poured some water from a pail into a pot and sat on the stool. She stared into a flame, and called out, just loud enough, “I’ll warm this water, and clean you up, good dwarf.” Roland watched the flame light reflect off her braids and looked at the way her dress pulled against her body. She turned her head and her tear filled eyes met his. The tears seemed to be the only life they had. The door opened, and they both looked to see a different guard walk in.

“Estate Lord Roland, come with me, please.”