Hearts Return - Part 13b

Rastellion pauses at the edge of the square, where the musical exhibition is underway, looking around for some time before spotting the young men he recognizes from the Flagon. Ceolfred, beside him, grips his arm, but Rastellion shakes him off and starts forward. He can feel his uncle's disapproving gaze on his back. The old man worries too much, he thinks. And I'm not going to sit around in camp doing nothing. Those fellows are up to something, and I mean to find out what.

As he makes his way through the crowd, Rastellion glances toward the preformers’ platform. It looks as if Zandrianna and Emrabeth are playing next, as they've taken their places to the side and are checking the tuning of their instruments.

One of Talthos’ group sees Rastellion approaching, and Rastellion lifts a hand in a friendly wave. The fellow nudges Talthos and whispers a few words to him, and that dark-haired youth turns and scowls. "Well met, again," Rastellion offers, with a smile, as he gets within a few paces of the cluster.

Talthos sneers back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well if it ain't Bercuth from th' tavern. Don't tell me, out enjoyin' th' sights o' our lovely town." Talthos' voice drips with sarcasm, and he shrugs off the restraining hand Egworth places on his shoulder.

Rastellion shrugs and lifts the half-full mug he's carrying. "More like enjoyin’ th' drinks an' free food. I ain't much o' one for music, though I s'ppose this fellow's that's playin's not bad. Leastways, don' make me think somethin's eatin' the livestock." He looks at the small group. "So... what's there t' do for fun in these parts, or has our friend up at th' villa put a stop t' all that as well?"

One of the men milling about near Talthos lets out a bark of laughter. "You mean what fun we can have wit'out much coin? 'Bout the only thing 'round here is th' tavern an' whatever wenches are willin' t' ..."

Talthos turns and smacks the young man across his back, causing him to choke on whatever he was going to say, before turning back to Rastellion. "This here festival's 'bout as much t' do as there's been in these parts in some time," he says, several of the men around him grumbling in agreement. "Ye're been better off headin' anywhere but here if ye're wantin' fun."

Rastellion shrugs. "Suppose it depends on what fun you've got in mind." He half sits on one of the nearby benches. There's a bit of scattered applause, and he looks over his shoulder to see Zandrianna and Emrabeth mounting the platform. He returns his attention to the other young men, trying to engage Egworth's more amicable attention. "Sounds as if mebbe there might be some fun in giving tha' old bat up at the villa a bit of what's comin' to him."

Egworth furrows his brow at the mention of Sallastin, and shakes his head. "Satisfying maybe," he mutters as he looks towards the villa. "Would like t' see the man strung up by his sack myself. Hard 'nough t' be without work, now with my little sis ...."

Talthos nudges Egworth into silence. "We'll deal wit' that soon 'nough."

Rastellion cocks a brow and leans forward, smiling encouragingly. "Hmm?"

Talthos turns back to him. "Got somethin' t' say boy? Or you jus' goin' t' smile at me like a fool?" Talthos' friends laugh at the comment, most of them too drunk to recognize the lack of humor in the man's voice.

Egworth, however, turns to Rastellion with a shake of his head. "Best not t' go askin' questions you don't need th' answers to," he says.

Rastellion scowls, frustrated at the lack of response. "Look," he says, spreading his hands. "Don't see why we ain't all friends here. Seems you folks here are gettin' th' short end of the stick shoved up your nethers by this Sallastin, same as happened t' me and mine back home. If you're thinkin' of doin' somethin' t' even the score, an' sounds like you are, I'd like t' help out.”

Egworth studies Rastellion closely for a few seconds, then motions him to stay put. He sets a hand on Talthos' shoulder and turns him away from the other youth, lowering his voice. "Look, Talthos," he says, "let's at least hear this fellow out. Can't do any harm to listen, right? And maybe he knows a thing or two that'd be useful to us, if he really has seen Sallastin's methods before?"

“An' mebbe he's workin' fer the man,” Talthos replies back, darting a glance back to Rastellion. “What d' we know 'bout him, other than he jus' happened t' show up here fer th' wedding? Nothin'. You goin' t' stand fer him?”

Egworth shrugs. "Plenty o' strangers coming in to the village for the wedding and the fair. Is it so strange that someone with a grudge against him might take advantage?" He shakes his head. "Look, I ain't sayin' we should tell him 'bout our plans t' raid the kitchens or nothin. But there’s no harm in listenin' to a few words, right? What's the worst that could happen?"

“Plenty could 'appen. Or else ye're forgettin' my Jassine, when we lissened t' th' man that came through, hirin' kitchen help fer the manor. She got a job there a'right, but it weren't in th' kitchens ...” Talthos turns and spits on the ground, his face a mask of rage and misery. “An' after, th’ bastard had th' nerve t' laugh in my face when I went t' report t' him what happened. Said she'd gotten what she deserved. That's what happens when ye lissen t' strangers.”

Egworth squeezes his friend's shoulder. "I know, Talthos ... she was my friend too. But there ain't nothing we can do t' pay him back in kind. Not like we can get at his woman. All I’m saying is that, here and now, let's just hear this fellow out. Then we can send him packing."

As the two young men talk, Rastellion shifts anxiously from foot to foot. He's not good at this sort of pretense, and he can tell that the dark-haired, angry youth doesn't trust him. But, damn it, he has to do something to help their rescue attempt, and this group has something planned for the wedding, obviously. Maybe it could be of use? His fists clench in frustration. Finally his impatience wins out and he steps forward and interrupts. "Look, friends, I'm jus' sayin' that..." He gets no farther as Talthos - his face clouded with rage and old pain - wheels on him.

"Enough," he says, jabbing his fingers into Rastellion's chest and pushing the young man back. "Mebbe ye want t' help, mebbe not. But ye're not known 'round 'ere an' we ain't lookin' t' ha'e some unknown join up wit' us. Fer all we know ye could be workin' fer that black-hearted bastard up there." He jerks his chin towards the villa on the hill.

Rastellion swats Talthos' hand off his chest and steps forward, resuming his place. The fingernails of his left hand dig into his palm as his fist clenches tighter. He fights off a rising urge to take a swing at the other lad, just to let out some of the pressure from the tensions and frustrations and uncertainties of the last several days. "I'd sooner cut my own wrists than do anything to help him,” Rastellion retorts, “snickering away at us, behind his walls and his guards, as he looks down at the lives he's ruined."

"An' we've only ye're word t' go on fer that ..." Talthos begins, even as a couple of the young men around him perk up, newly appraising Rastellion.

Egworth rakes his hand through his hair and moves between the two. "Ain't nothin' to be gained by fighting out here," he says, but Talthos, sidesteps him to stare Rastellion down, his gaze unblinking. "E'en if ye were tellin' th' truth, ye look 'bout as likely t' do anything t' help out as I am t' make it rain coin out my arse."

Rastellion feels both fists clenching now, and he leans toward the other's mocking face, the ragged edge of his temper fraying further. "Oh, and I s'pose then you're going to do something about 'im?" Rastellion's tone turns sarcastic, mocking, bitter. "I know, how 'bout we all go back to some rat-hole pub and moan into our drinks. Ooo, th' big bad man was mean to me. So I'll sit 'ere an' scowl at strangers. That's sure to get a bit of m'own back, ain't it?"

Talthos' hands curl; his eyes flash in rage at Rastellion's mockery. Behind him, several men take a step back, the random bits of chatter replaced with a tense silence as they watch. "Talthos!" Egworth says, looking around the square nervously, "This is not th' ..."

But Talthos is beyond listening. "You little piece o' steamin' horsesh …"

Warned by Egworth's cry, Rastellion manages to sidestep Talthos' beer-slowed punch. He whirls in place, his own fists rising, forgetting in the anger of the moment how he usually gets the worst of it in brawls. Right now, all he wants to do is smash that sneer of the other's face. He takes a step forward, braces his feet, pulls his arm back.

But then sudden movement beyond Talthos' stumbling form catches Rastellion’s attention. Rast stares, even in his anger, by the unexpected apparition: it’s Ceolfred, jumping up on a table some yards away and - unbelievably - starting to dance a few drunken measures in time with Zandrianna's playing. One booted foot sends a full mug of ale spinning over the crowd, raising cries of outraged from suddenly damp revelers

The sight is so bizarre that Rast is briefly distracted from the fight. Then he notices the uniformed Watch men between himself and his uncle, just a few tables away, weaving toward Talthos’ group. Their eyes are fixed on Rastellion.

"Aye, it is him!" one watcher cries to the other, as they attempt to maneuver around a string of young women doing a line dance, each with hands on the hips of the girl in front. Rastellion stares a moment longer, unable to believe that they're actually after him. Talthos, meanwhile, has regained his balance and is preparing another punch.

The closest guard, trying to disentangle himself from a giggling blonde, points a beefy finger and calls out, "You there! Stop!"

At this, Rastellion shakes himself, turns, and bolts to his left, cutting across the square in angled flight away from both the guards and Talthos' friends. The noisy crowd surges around him and he hears the watchers’ whistles blowing ahead, too. He shies away, looking for another escape. Everywhere there are shouts, dancing, laughter, revelers and tables and chairs all blocking his path.

No way out.