Page 58 of Minor Works of Meda

He gave me a scandalized look.

“One day I will figure out why you are so determined not to enjoy yourself,” Oraik informed me. “Until then, let me show you how it’s done.” He approached the nearest table, where four women gossiped while stretching rounds of dough into little flatbread disks. They looked up curiously as we approached.

“Pardon me,” Oraik said. “Please ignore my horrific clothing. It’s been a bad day for style.”

The youngest, and nearest to us, was perhaps twenty. Her curly black hair was pinned and twisted at the back of her copper neck. She flashed a laughing smile at him.

“I can see that!” the woman chirped. She spoke with the same hurried accent as the pirates had. “It’s no matter.”

“I’m Oraik, and this is my friend Meda. What’s your name?”

“Cliantha. Joyous welcome.” The others, seemingly satisfied that Cliantha had the newcomers taken care of, went back to their own conversation.

“Please tell me it’s still Laghek Day here, Cliantha?”

“Most certain. Today’s the last day,” she confirmed. While she spoke, she finished one of the flatbreads. She patted it with acorn meal to stop it from sticking and placed it on the growing stack. She hardly had to look as she worked. Her hands had the rhythm of one well familiar with a task.

“Blessed mystery. I feared we’d miss it!” Oraik clapped his hands together and turned to look at me with a grin.

Cliantha gave him a curious look, and I had to resist the urge to stomp on Oraik’s foot.

“Did you come from very far?”

“Oh, just from Rovileis,” he said.

“Rovileis?” Her lips split in a startled grin. “Most off-landers go to the celebration in Belt-Zghirun.”

“Well, we had a rather unfortunate detour. Hence the horrible clothes. I’m just glad to be anywhere with a kick, at this point.” He settled down on the bench beside her without asking and started to take off his left shoe.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. He looked up at me blandly.

“Could you calm down? You’ll turn your stomach,” Oraik told me. He drew one of his golden rings out of the toe of his boot, and showed it to Cliantha, who looked at him with wide and startled eyes.

“Put your horned shoe back on,” I groaned. “They’re cooking, you idiot.” If I weren't horrified by him, I might have been impressed that he'd managed to hold on to at least one remnant of his wealth after being taken captive by pirates.

Oraik waved me off. His eyes were focused on the group of women.

“Is there anywhere around here I could buy a clean set of clothes?” he asked. “These borrowed trousers are biting into my gut, and I fear I won’t be able to eat very much, or dance at all.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Cliantha said, as the other women laughed and whispered to each other. Oraik grinned at them, somehow purely charming despite all his oddity. I buried my face in my hands, and wished I’d met a serious prince who was well-mannered and well-measured, instead of whatever Oraik was. Had he no respect for the rules one was meant to follow?

“Nikkos might be about the right size,” one of the other women said, leaning forward across the table. “He’s a big man, like you. See him over there, with the straw hat?”

“Is he as friendly as you?” Oraik asked in a loud staged whisper. “Ought I to approach with caution?”

They all spoke up, promising that Nikkos was perfectly friendly, that everyone was perfectly friendly, that he needn’t hesitate to ask for whatever he needed. They were just excited to have anyone from off Montay to share in their celebration. With every happy word I felt more prickly and sour.

The Protectorate was an inch from collapsing. My goals were perilously close to either being achieved or crushed forever. Magical secrets hundreds of years old were coming to light. And yet here I was, at some minor village festival, forced to stand stiffly and smile at all these foolish people and their foolish fun. I found myself wondering how they would even treat Kalcedon. Would they shoot him on sight, too?

But here they were, laughing and smiling, like Eudoria wasn’t dead, like the world wasn’t falling apart, like Kalcedon was safe at home.

“Good,” Oraik said cheerfully. “I cannot wait to be in pants that fit again.”

“How’d you end up in those, anyways?” Cliantha asked, making a face at him as her eyes sparkled.

“Oh, now, that’s a story.” Oraik drew himself upright and folded his arms behind his head. “Maybe one best told during a dance?”

She giggled. I turned and started to walk towards the man they’d identified as Nikkos, feeling inexplicably irritated. Oraik caught up.

---