Page 72 of Swordheart
He dragged his mind forcibly out of the gutter.
The hostelkeeper showed him where he could leave his belongings, which was a bit puzzling for both of them. “I have none,” he admitted.
“Ah,” she said. And then, to his astonishment, the old nun’s face softened, almost imperceptibly. “I understand. There’s no shame in it, my son. We all fall upon hard times. We must lift each other up, that’s all.”
Explaining would have been far too difficult, and Sarkis did not have it in him to turn down compassion freely offered. The great god knew that the woman was correct. He bowed his head politely, and went to join Halla for lunch.
She had changed into the new clothes—a snug bodice and a full skirt. The bodice did not cover her the way the habit had, and it furthermore was lifting certain… assets… in a way that surely had to be incredibly indecent.
Sarkis looked around a bit wildly, and saw that the nun didn’t so much as blink when she saw Halla.
Apparently this is how they dress in the south. And nobody sees anything wrong with it.
He had an intense urge to rush over and cover her breasts. Possibly with his face.
“Is something wrong?” asked Halla.
No, I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I’m a ravening animal, not a man.
Then again, I’ve been coming to terms with that since I was fourteen, so what else is new?
“It’s fine,” he told Halla. And then, although it pained him, “You look nice.”
Halla beamed at him. Then she blushed. Sarkis suspected that Halla was not used to compliments and now had proof that the blush went… well, quite a long way down.
Settle down, man. You’re a warrior, not a rutting boar. You’ve seen breasts before.
Yes, but these are reallygoodbreasts. And their owner is…
“Are yousureyou’re all right? You’re staring off into the distance.”
“Fine!” said Sarkis, a trifle too loudly. One of the nuns looked at him disapprovingly. This was actually helpful. He sat down hurriedly and fixed his eyes firmly on Halla’s face.
Know your place. She is your wielder. You have no rights here. If shechose to wander about wearing nothing but strategically placed lizards, that would be her choice, and you would say nothing. Know. Your. Place.
The hostel served food on long tables. It was plain, filling, not particularly elegant fare, but there was a great deal of it. Sarkis had not thought about eating, but the server brought him a bowl anyway. Some kind of thick wheat noodles, with onion and small salted fish chopped over it. More onion than fish and more noodle than either, but not the worst he’d seen.
He stared at it, then shrugged and began to eat. It wasn’t the worst he’d tasted, either.
“What will you do if the priest cannot get your inheritance back?” he asked between bites, still thinking of the nunnery.
Halla blinked at him. “Uh. I… well, I guess I’m no worse off than I was.” She frowned. “Except for the bit where I can’t hire on as a housekeeper to whoever takes the house. So… well. It could be bad.”
Sarkis frowned. “Bad how?”
She propped her chin on her fist. “Bad enough. I suppose I’ll find a church to take me in. Without a payment of some sort, I can’t hope to join a nunnery as anything but a servant, though. Even a bride of the gods requires a dowry. But… well…” She shrugged. “There’s usually work somewhere for someone who can scrub a floor.”
He scowled into the noodles for long moments. “You must sell the sword if that happens.”
She looked up, startled. “I can’t do that!”
He shook his head. “You will have to. I will not allow you to be a drudge somewhere merely for my convenience.”
“Sarkis, I can’t!”
“The other alternative is that you and I take up work as mercenaries, and that is entirely too dangerous. If I could go any significant distance from the sword, I would do it, but I will not place you in harm’s way.”
Halla blinked at him, apparently trying to imagine life as a mercenary. Sarkis tried to picture Halla working a contract and wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or break out in a cold sweat.We’re supposed to guard this caravan? All right. Why? Oh. No, I just thought you might have an interesting reason. I had a cousin who guarded caravans, but then a horse stepped on him and then his foot fell off…no, no, the two were actually unrelated. But he got out of the business after that. Oh, hello there mister bandit, now why didyougo into this line of work…?
