FOREVER KNIGHTS: #7 King of Assassins
SEBASTIAN - A Healing Barbarian

SEBASTIAN

When Sebastian returned to check on the barbarian later, he found him already sitting up in bed. Carefully fingering the ornate jewels on the alehorn. Sitting up already. That’s good news!

The barbarian sent him a furtive look.

A guilty one.

Yes, I know full well you told my valkyrie on me. Bast sighed as he sat next to Mardichi on the edge of the massive bed. She’d have found out anyway.

“Missing your drink so bad?” Bast teased watching how he reverently held it.

“Actually, I was appreciating tha’ Tev wen’ back for it. Give the wee lad methanks.”

Valiant effort. No. Bast thought dryly. He hates thanking anyone.

Especially Tev.

“I think you should tell him that yourself.” Bast wandered to stand next to the bed.

It’d mean far more coming from you anyway.

“That was Acharius’ once wasn’t it?” Bast queried.

“’Twas.”

“He gave it to you?”

“Aye.”

Bast gave him a questioning look. It meant the world to the Viking. He didn’t just give it away.

“I was ‘aving a drink at the Silver Stallion an’ smelled Cimmerii. Much Cimmerii.”

“You knew they were in Merwood?” Bast asked perceptively.

“’ad ta be looking fer ’is cave.”

Acharius’.

“So, you went to help?” Bast crossed his arms as he awaited the rest of the story. Having never heard the barbarian tell it before.

“Aye. We fought.”

“And he gave you his family heirloom?”

“I gave ‘im the option ta follow me abou’ an’ be me personal ale server. ’e just didna wanna to do that.” Mardichi gave a single cold laugh. Lifting the alehorn in a mocking toast.

“I think ’twas a bit more than that.” Bast said solemnly. “He’s told me the story of that alehorn many times.”

You saved his hide.

“Hmm.” Mardichi twirled it thoughtfully in his palms.

“It was a great honor he gave it to you. You knew how much it meant to him. That’s why you asked Tev to go back for it.”

Mardichi eyed him a moment. “Nah. I just worried I’d no longer ’ave a cup fer me ale.”

Liar.

Bast gave him a chiding look. “Why don’t we talk about what’s been plaguing you?”

The loss of your wife or the death of your child?

Mardichi groaned. “Let’s talk abou’ anythin’ but tha’.”

His wife.

“Anything but her you mean?”

“I’ve looked ever’where fer ’er.” Mardichi’s voice dropped.

With no luck, sounds like.

“Have you asked Rhyers?”

The tracker can replace anyone.

“Nay.” Mardichi’s answer came slowly.

“You’re afraid of what he may replace?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I still honor ‘er enough tha’ if she doesn’t wan’ found I’ll give ‘er tha’.” He paused as he fingered the jewels on the alehorn. “Par’ of me still believes in ’er. Believes she’d ne’er ’ave harmed ’im. But methinks she’d ’ave surfaced by now unless…”

“Unless she’s dead?”

Mardichi swallowed hard. “I’m no’ prepared ta consider tha’ yet, Bast.”

Cruel of me to say so bluntly. He realized. He nodded slowly in understanding. Bast considered going in search of her himself but he had hardly even met the woman and would have no idea where to look. He doubted he’d recognize her if he did replace her. No, this is beyond even my meddling.

Best let him decide.

“Let me know what you need.” He offered.

“Ale!” Mardichi lifted the alehorn. Robust voice returning.

To mask his pain. That’s fair.

“As soon as you’re healed…And you rebuild the Driter’s Den.”

That ought to change the direction of his thoughts.

“Wha’?” Mardichi looked horrified. “For how much coin?”

None.

“For your honor. Since you destroyed it.”

Mardichi frowned. “’ave ye met me, Brother?”

“You do have honor.” Bast insisted. “I’ve given the barkeep coin for his family. And my word you’ll rebuild what you burned down.”

“You’re a lousy brother.”

Yes. You tell me often.

“As you say.” Bast grinned.

“Givin’ me wor’ fer me…” Mardichi grumbled.

Building it will give your hands work and something other then pain to occupy your mind, Brother. Bast was walking from the chamber but turned near the entrance. “Ah, and the Captain has tasked me with replaceing you a paid friend.”

One to manage your outlandish behavior. And give you someone to watch out for you. A conscience, perhaps.

“A nanny, you mean!” Mardichi roared in fury.

Precisely.

“I prefer paid friend.” Bast corrected.

“A ‘paid friend’ is a maid in me bed I can poke.”

That imagery is painful.

I’d rather be blind.

Bast looked horrified. “Yes, this will not be one of those.” He shook his head in disgust at what Mardichi had conjured in his mind. “Any preferences in character?”

“Yea.” Mardichi announced. “Short, fat, an’ slow. So, I may readily leave ’im be’ind.”

“Short, fat and slow.” Bast lifted a finger to point at him with a wink. “Done.”

“I bloody well ’ate ye.” Mardichi grumbled as Bast disappeared from the doorway.