章 9: Chapter 9: Desperate Measures, Part 5
Outside the high city walls were the fairgrounds, built back during the first tournament, repurposed from the old military practice grounds that had been abandoned long ago in favor of new yards and quarters within the walls. The fairgrounds were tucked in a little hollow formed by the city walls, the cliffs that backed the city, and the river that cut it in half. The grounds had burned down two and a half times since they were first built, mostly due to drunken carelessness combined with too many overexcited idiots.
Between tournaments, they were used for various holiday revelries and by the military once, sometimes twice, a year to do their foolish jousting thing which mostly involved drinking and knocking each other over. The rest of the time High City's fineststupidestyouths did their best to imitate the jousts, with a good deal more alcohol and falling off horses involved.
Rath passed through the enormous southern gates and joined the milling throng headed down the small side road that split off from the main and led to the fairgrounds, over a wide, sturdy bridge that wasn't quite as elegant as the city bridges, built simply to be serviceable.
The smell of roasting meat, sausages dripping fat and pies near to bursting with tender fowl, made his stomach growl. Living above a sausage shop gave him more chance at meat than most, but even then, it was still rare he got any. The pie Toph had bought him earlier was the first bit of meat he'd had in ages.
"Ho, there, rapscallion," cried a familiar voice.
Rath stopped and looked around, brows lifting in surprise as he saw the pretty man he'd fucked the other night and had been forced to abandon in the morning thanks to Friar. High City brats weren't normally worth the trouble unless he was getting paid, but this one Damn, what was his name? He'd been worth the trouble. "Ho, there, High City."
The man's grin widened as he caught up to Rath. He was a few fingers taller than Rath, which was somewhat unusual, but had none of Rath's heft or width. "Off to see the melee? You seemed so scathing of the tournament, I'd have bet ten crowns you wouldn't go near the fairgrounds while it was on." He flicked his head, throwing the long mass of heavy braids over his shoulder. They were unornamented, which was unusual, as elaborate hair and face ornamentation were all the fashion up High City way. Rare to see a High City who didn't have their hair painted red and blue with jewels and birds pinned in it.
"That's a fortune you'd lose, as I'm to be in the damned melee, now," Rath replied.
"Oh?" The man's steps faltered for a moment, eyes widening briefly. "How did that come about?"
"It's related to that matter that took me from bed the other morning."
"I see." His brow furrowed. "No, I rather don't. What does this have to do with that?"
Rath shook his head. "It's a boring tale, I promise. I take it you've come to spectate, pretty boy?" He cocked his head, eying the man thoughtfully. "Seeing what your marriage prospects are going to be, maybe?"
The man made a face. "Maybe."
"How very spoiled brat of you to go about breaking rules just to satisfy curiosity."
"Wouldn't you? Anyway I'm hardly doing any harm this early on," the man replied, his easy grin returning. "Though speaking of things I shouldn't do, I have shamefully forgotten your name."
Rath laughed. "Well I don't recall yours either, so we'll call it even. Most call me Rath. My whole name is a mouthful and not worth knowing."
"That's not true, or I wouldn't be trying to learn it a second time. My name's Tress."
"Well met, Tress."
"Well met, Rath." Tress's smile softened, taking on flirtatious tones. "What are you doing after the melee?"
"Recovering," Rath replied. "If I'm even standing at the end of it, I'll be impressed."
Tress sighed. "Fair enough, I suppose. What team are you part of?"
"Team?"
"What does your token have on it?"
"Oh." Rath dug out the chip he'd shoved into his coin purse (that never held anything as valuable as moneyonly idiots kept their coin where anyone else could get it). "A cat, whatever that means."
Tress snickered. "Cat. That's supposed to be a lion's head."
"What in the Fates is a lion?"
"A cat bigger than a man that hunts mm, deer and such, in grasslands far, far away from here."
"So it is the head of a cat."
"Well, yes, but like calling a wolf a dog."
"Whatever," Rath replied, skin flushing hot as he shoved the token away. He didn't know what a lion was; who cared?
Tress's smile collapsed. "I'm sorry, I didn't"
"Forget it," Rath snapped, grateful that they'd reached the bustling fairgrounds. "I have to be off to the blue tent or some such. If I'm not dead or unconscious afterward, you're welcome to buy me a pint or two."
Smile returning, Tress said, "Looks like you've had plenty of those already."
"Why would anyone do this sober?" Rath muttered. Especially given how damned sore he was from a long day of walking, followed by a night of fucking, followed by more walking. Fates, he just wanted to sleep for a couple of days.
"I certainly wouldn't," Tress said. He snagged Rath's wrist and drew him to a halt. Lifting Rath's hand, he pressed something into it, then bent and pressed a light kiss to each of Rath's cheeks. "A token and a kiss for luck. Fates See your victory."
He was gone before Rath could form a reply. Frowning, he opened his hand and stared at the object: a small wooden charm, the type meant to be affixed to clothes or made into an earring or pendant, bought from temples for three a farthing. Prayer charms, meant to imbue the bearer with various and sundry blessings and keep the temples in funds. Tress had given him a charm of fortune.
Why had Tress been carrying such a silly thing? He couldn't have known he'd meet Rath again, and even if he had, why buy such a silly thing for some Low City fuck? He must have bought them for something else and decided to give Rath one, maybe out of guilt or pity.
Shoving it into his coin purse, clutching his token, Rath headed for the bright blue tent at the far end of the grounds.
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