Lorkrin and Taya were wrinkly. They had resumed their old shapes, but were covered in sags and folds that betrayed their day’s adventures. Exchanging glum looks, they turned with pleading expressions to their uncle. He smiled at them and spread his arms, shrugging.
‘You overstretched,’ he said simply. ‘You’ll return to normal eventually.’
‘But how long will it take?’ Lorkrin asked.
‘A few weeks, perhaps.’
‘Weeks!’ Taya burst out. ‘I can’t walk around looking like this for weeks!’
‘Well, maybe with a bit of effort, you will fix up in a day or two,’ he reassured her, barely suppressing a laugh. They were obviously upset, but they did look very funny.
The three Myunans were standing near the river in a camp of Braskhiam troops, Sestinians and others who had joined the march on Noran. With them were soldiers from the Kartharic Peaks, mixing, talking and sharing food and drink with the people who had been their enemies only days before. Tents, weapons and vehicles were scattered all around them, positioned for a siege on Noran that had never happened. When the eb-towers had collided, the fight had gone out of the soldiers still loyal to Noran as they realised they had lost their leader. Emos had been thrown clear when the towers had crashed together, leaving Rak Ek Namen caught in the chamber as the two huge trees demolished each other.
‘Couldn’t you do something?’ Lorkrin begged. ‘I bet you could fix us.’
‘Oh, no. I don’t think so.’
‘I bet you could,’ Taya repeated.
‘Give me a couple of days to think about how to do it,’ Emos told them.
‘Uncle Emos!’ they wailed in unison.
‘In the meantime, you two can think about how this found its way to the study of the Noranian Prime Ministrate.’ He held up his quill.
‘What’s that?’ Lorkrin raised his eyebrows, in an attempt at ignorance.
‘Looks like a pen, or something,’ Taya chirped. ‘Is that yours, Uncle Emos?’
The discussion was interrupted by the sound of an engine drawing near, then a skid and the clang of metal on metal.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ came the sound of Hilspeth’s voice. ‘By the gods, these things are harder to drive than they look.’
The three Myunans turned to see the wagon that Draegar had hijacked, resting against an engined catapult, its front bumper dented. Hilspeth and the Parsinor were getting down from the cab, and Hilspeth whooped when she saw Groach sitting, having his head tended by one of the Braskhiam healers. She ran over and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him hard on the lips. He was taken aback at first, but then he kissed her back tentatively.
‘You made it!’ she cried, as she pushed him back to get a good look at him.
‘Most of me.’ He gave a pained smile. ‘It seems I owe my life to just about everyone.’
‘You’ll just have to live a quieter life from here on in.’ She hugged him again.
‘I’ll certainly try my best.’ He dropped his head, and then raised it to meet the gazes of the others. ‘Thank you. Thank you, all of you.’
There was an awkward silence while everyone tried to think of something to say.
‘I have a wagon to return,’ Draegar spoke up. ‘I must head south soon and make what amends I can to the driver. I can only hope his stay at the storyhouse has been pleasant. I’ll need somebody to drive the thing. I still can’t get my feet on the pedals.’
‘I’ll drive for you,’ Emos offered. ‘These two are overdue back at their parents’.’
‘I’m not sure what I’m going to do,’ Groach muttered.
‘The farmers in Braskhia will need all the help they can get to save their crops after the Harvest Tide,’ Murris told him. ‘I’m sure they could find a use for someone with your expertise.’
‘That sounds like a good place to start making amends,’ Groach smiled. ‘There’s a fisherman and his wife in Crickenob to whom I owe a debt as well. South it is then.’
‘I’ll need to get back to work down that way too,’ Hilspeth said. ‘We can all go back together.’
‘A recipe for further disaster, I’m sure,’ grunted Emos with a wry smile. He rubbed his hands together. ‘I look forward to the journey. For now though, I think a good meal is in order.’
‘A feast more like,’ Murris cried out. ‘I feel a party coming on. You must all stay until you are stuffed to the gills and we’ve danced ’til we’ve dropped. I think it should be the last act of this war to go out to music. I do love a good dance.’
Suddenly, Taya grabbed Lorkrin’s saggy wrist and nodded towards the river. Emerging from the water was a huge, scarred, yellow-skinned man with weapons draped about him. In his right hand, he held a spiked iron ball hanging from a chain; in his left, a viciously sharp axe. He had murder written on his face.
‘Cossock,’ Groach whispered.
The Barian advanced on them, ignoring the rebel soldiers on either side. Draegar drew his sword and his battleaxe and took a stance before him. Cossock measured him up, and then growled to the group of friends:
‘Make your peace with your gods. I will feed the grass with your blood before I am killed.’
Emos put a hand on the Parsinor’s arm and faced Rak Ek Namen’s bodyguard.
‘If it’s a fight you want, you’ll get it, friend. But don’t think that you will get the honourable death you’re looking for. We will not fight to kill you. But if it’s embarrassment you are after, I can guarantee it. I am a master of transmorphing. Just one touch is all I need to give you ears like a donkey, or feet like a duck, or perhaps just turn you bright pink. You can fight to kill me, but I will fight to humiliate you. Just one touch, whether you kill me or not. And then every man here will descend on you. So, win or lose, you will die a laughing stock. Now, was it a fight you wanted?’
Cossock stood stock still, unsure of himself. It was the Barian way to fear nothing, to fight and kill and die with honour. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for an opponent who would make a clown of him whether they died or not. This was not the kind of combat he knew; it did not seem fair. More people had gathered. Hundreds were watching. This was not how it was supposed to be. He bared his teeth and hissed, but nobody seemed impressed. They were all waiting for the moment when he grew duck’s feet and turned pink.
For the first time in his life, Cossock blushed. With a roar of disgust, he threw his weapons to the ground, and walked back to the river, his head in his hands. Stumbling into the river, he dived into the current and swam away. The crowd relaxed. Lorkrin was secretly crestfallen that there hadn’t been a fight, and even Draegar looked a little disappointed.
‘Could you really have done that?’ Taya asked her uncle.
‘Well, no. It takes a bit more than a touch to do it. It would have taken a little work.’
‘Then you lied?’
‘Exaggerated, dear. Better than somebody dying, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘This definitely calls for a celebration!’ Murris was still determined to have his party. ‘A Barian embarrassed into defeat. Now that’s a story that will travel! Somebody make some music!’
Later that night, as Groach, Taya and Lorkrin were sitting together, taking a rest from the joyous mayhem that was going on all around them, Taya looked up at the botanist and took his hand.
‘I just want you to know that we don’t blame you for everything that’s happened.’
‘Oh … good.’ Groach nodded uncertainly.
‘But just in case it was all your fault,’ Lorkrin continued. ‘You will let us know if you get in any more trouble? It’s been loads of fun.’
‘Yeah,’ Taya laughed. ‘Much better than Uncle Emos’s farm. Promise us you’ll keep in touch. We’d miss not having you around.’
‘Taya, I can safely say that my life has not been the same since I met the two of you. If ever I am being hunted and attacked and imprisoned, you will be the first people I think of.’
‘We’re sorry about the sewer … and making you lose your beard.’
‘Well, at least I can say I came out of this looking better than you two.’
Taya pulled the folds around her neck up over her face to stifle a snort of laughter.
Lorkrin chortled and slid his loose scalp down over his eyes. Deciding it was a good time to join Hilspeth in the dancing again, Groach excused himself, stood up and disappeared into the crowd.
The Myunans’ giggling was lost in the noise of the singing and the stamping, dancing feet.