Taking Flight by Lawrence Watt-Evans

Author:Lawrence Watt-Evans
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2012-06-03T20:15:48+00:00

CHAPTER 19

The bread was rough and a bit stale, but it was filling, and the innkeeper had had leftover cabbage that she had thrown in free; the three had hardly dined well, but at least their bellies were relatively full when they settled onto a hillock at the roadside for the night.

Kelder had two blankets, one for himself and one for Asha; Ezdral claimed he was fine without one.

“I’ve got this to keep me warm,” he said, pulling a squat black bottle out of his belt pouch. “Been saving it.”

“What is it?” Asha asked.

“Oushka,” Ezdral replied, grinning. “The very best oushka, Adrean’s Pure Barley Liquor, from Sardiron of the Waters. It fell off a caravan wagon last month, and I picked it out of the mud.” He displayed the label.

Asha turned away; Kelder nodded politely, but showed no further interest.

“Been saving it,” Ezdral repeated to himself as he pried the cork out.

As he huddled under his blanket, Kelder wondered whether he should have asked for a drink. Something warming might be nice, and he had no philosophical objection to oushka. He had tasted it on occasion, back home in Shulara, for various special events.

Asha, though, with her drunken, malevolent father, wanted nothing to do with any sort of alcohol, and Ezdral, even after he had cleaned himself up a little for dinner, was scarcely an advertisement in favor of strong drink.

“Are you sure you don’t want some, Kelder?” Ezdral said, his voice already starting to slur. “It’s good stuff, and one hates to drink alone.”

Kelder curled himself up more tightly, pretending to be asleep, and decided that he would never drink oushka again.

“It’s your loss, if you don’t,” Ezdral said, shrugging. He gulped noisily, pouring the liquor down his throat, and Kelder shuddered.

A moment later the bottle clinked against a stone as Ezdral dropped it; a heavy thud followed as the old man fell back against the ground. Kelder lay still, huddled and waiting, finding now that he was not really all that sleepy yet.

A snore sounded, and Kelder uncurled enough to peer over his shoulder.

Darkness was descending, the sun down and the lesser moon still low in the east, the greater moon not due up for an hour or more; the little party had not bothered to build a fire. All Kelder could see of Ezdral was a shadowy lump.

He could hear him plainly enough, though; the old drunkard was snoring steadily and loudly.

“He’s asleep,” Asha said in a conversational tone.

“Hush!” Kelder called in a hoarse whisper. “You’ll wake him!”

“No, I won’t,” Asha said, speaking normally. “He’s too drunk. Nothing’s going to wake him up for hours. He got that whole bottle of oushka down in about five minutes; even my father couldn’t do that!”

Kelder watched Ezdral uneasily. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m positive,” Asha replied. She sat up, a vague shape in the gloom. Kelder watched as she crept over and prodded Ezdral with a finger; the drunkard snored on without stirring. “See?”

Kelder nodded. “I see,” he said.

“So are we going to stay here with him, or are we going to get away and lose him?”

Kelder considered.

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