Bab 49: Deals a Deal
Outside the air was warm and fresh while the sky held a color blue only found on a cloudless day. Hrok stomped as he walked, dust lifting around his boots while weeds fell to their weight, arms swinging like clubs.
E'krek came from behind silent enough to give him a startle. "My Kallri!" He said, his voice harsh from the dryness of thirst.
"What is it?" Hrok groaned.
They drew nearer to the home and the two children on the porch who rocked in their chairs, sitting quietly, listening to the wind.
"Reconsider the old one's request."
Hrok stopped, eyes bulging. "You asked me to do what?"
"The men are whispering." E'krek spoke strong and direct, unlike most the Yurks who spoke with caution when approaching him. "Their allegiance may become questionable."
Hrok laughed, prodding a finger, "Their allegiance? I here I've be questioning yours..."
"Questioning mine?" He said. "You insult me ... I've been nothing but loyal -"
"Yet here you are siding with my enemy." He looked him up and down. "Pathetic. Maybe the old one was right ... you can't trust those closest to you."
When he went to walk he was tugged from the shoulder.
E'krek glared, "You will not disrespect me, My Kallri. I am not like those other men - I maybe a Yurk by clan but my blood does not flow of Yurks blood."
"Exactly why I can't trust you ... you're not of my blood and you drink yourself into a stupor." He shoved the boy and he took a step back. "What good are you to me?"
"I'm the only true friend you've got ... the rest follow blindly, willing to turn path once a better one opens." He yelled. "Your stubbornness has left you more numb than when I clear a full bottle of numbwillow." He spat.
"Enough from you!" Hrok reached towards the knife on his belt. "Or I'll gut you like a pig."
"Humph!" E'krek dusted himself off and fixed his tall black hat. "Remember this moment ... it'll define whether you rise or fall ... and if you fall, there will be nobody to burn you; only the vultures to pick your rotting flesh from the white of your bones." He stormed off towards the barn.
Hrok watched him, heated. What does he know? He's no Yurk.
On approach to the farmhouse Quincy drew up his rifle barrel, smirking while puffing on his pipe. "You come to give me good news? Your men have been here for weeks ... that wasn't our agreement."
"You'll get your worth, I assure you."
"Starting to believe our worth is a burial," Quincy said. His sister didn't follow his humor. She sat crossed armed, lip pouting while the boy paid her no heed. "Why've you come?"
"The old one has gone sick ... He needs a warm bath, rest, and a proper meal. You offered and we'd like to take up that request."
"Offered expired ... And this is no inn."
Hrok hunched, his patience worn. "There will be more coin where comes the aid."
"I think your tabs run high enough." He puffed, yanking out the pipe and widening his grin. "What do you think, sis?"
"I think their time has expired ... You boys need to pay up and get a move on. Our home can no longer be the hideout for your ways." She had as much bite in her words as Quincy.
The Yurk hand twitched, ready to rip the kids heads clean from their bodies. If I killed them the Mayor would know it wasn't the Yurk tribes who attacked the train, He sighed, and they'd hunt us down and kill us quickly, mistaking us for a gang.
He looked around the yard: to the gate that read O'donovan Ranch in the east; to the pastures where the cows roamed in the south; then to where the Yurks hid in the barn in the west; and lastly to the porch connected to the white farmhouse in the northern.
The farm, He thought, This means everything to these children ... what a dump! Hrok began pacing. "Nice place you have here. Must be expensive feeding the cows ... there's not much to eat." The two perked up in their seat and he had their attention. "Is that why you took in Yurks ... you need the money?" He laughed. "I see how you work, the cattle during the day and the carriages at night ... must be hard on a pair of youngins such as yourself."
Quincy spat, "Don't pretend like you know us, Yurk!"
"You're right ... I don't." He shrugged and guessed, "where are your parents? Dead?"
"That will be about enough out of you!" Olivica said, holding back the tears.
Hrok saw the shimmer in her eyes. He chuckled, "how'd they die?" He watched them closely. "Sickness?" Nothing. "The work?" Again nothing. "Yurks?" The children exchanged despaired looks. "That's it, isn't it." He pointed to the sign. "That's why you don't let the indigenous inside, is that it?"
Quincy cocked the hammer. "Get away from my home or I'll shoot you where you stand."
Hrok smirked, and pointed towards the east. "Those Yurks that killed your parents weren't the Yurks that you house in your barn - they're the Yurks of the Kallri Bonejaq - and soon he'll be dead by my hand." He beamed. "I need to acquire tickets to the Iron Alchemist Tournament, and killing the man who will be arriving shortly is how I do it. And once he's dead, I'll win the tournament, and give you the spoils from my winnings. Enough to save this land you call home."
He took a few steps to the farmhouse and stopped at the staircase. The children watched as he ascended, ignoring the sign, he held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
They looked at him closely then the girl spoke first, "Get the old man. I'll get the bath running, Quincy get supper started, and will give him a bed." She glared. "But y'all will still sleep in the barn."
"My doctor will need to see him."
"You and the doctor can come inside, that's it."
Quincy shook his hand, "And you've got yourself a deal."
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone