Alaire hesitated before nodding. "Something in my magic, something I don't understand yet, brought you back." He didn't know what else to say. "I guess that was why I passed out," he finished.
At first Kai simply sat and stared at him. His face grew pale, then he began to tremble; his stony facade melted, and tears began to trickle slowly down his cheeks.
At first Alaire thought he might still be drunk; he certainly still reeked of aakaviit. He'd seen many drunks get weepy this way.
But then Kai collapsed into a ball, leaning to Alaire, sobbing. This is different, the bardling thought then. He's not just drunk.
Hesitantly, he patted Kai's back, and offered his shoulder for support. Kai took it without pride.
Alaire held him closer he broke down completely, burying his face in Alaire's shoulder, stifling the sobs in the fabric of his They held each other for a long time in the cold loft, Alaire listening to Kai's incoherent grief and the sounds of sleeping livestock. He kept silent, knowing the value of it, as any Bard would. Finally the la Kai's grief drained from him, and Kai pulled away.
He peered at Alaire through swollen eyes. "If I hadn't been drunk you might not have had to do that.
If I had been sober that assassin wouldn't have stood a chance. And you wouldn't be in trouble for saving my life."
"I don't know that," Alaire lied. "Those two were experts."
"Horseturds," Kai said. "It finally got the better of me. I never thought it would."
"The sword?"
He shook his head. "No. The bottle." Kai frowned, and looked down at the gore stiffening his clothes, with growing horror. "Demondogs! This is my blood!"
He started shedding the clothes, as Alaire watched in amusement. Now he believes me. He's willing to freeze his behind to get those bloody clothes off his skin!
Pale, skinny and naked, Kai hopped over to the sec- ond bag he'd brought with him and pulled out a pair of leather trousers, boots, a flannel shirt, a leather tunic. In his already disheveled state, and with these new garments, he looked like an ordinary peasant boy.
"Now tell me," Alaire said. "How did you get me up here?"
Kai shrugged. "After that -- spell, I guess it was, you got all wonky. Like you were walking in your sleep. I got you as far as this stable, and you sort of helped yourself up the ladder, flopped over on the hay, and passed out. I thought you were going to get cold, so I covered you with hay."
Alaire managed a smile. The spell took a lot out of me, I guess. I'm better now, and the food helped.
Thanks."
Kai flung clothing at him from the canvas bag.
"You'd better change. If we don't look like peasants, we'll stand out like peacocks on a chicken farm."
Alaire hesitated before exposing himself to the frigid air, then started dressing quickly. Kai's a native here. He knows more about this place than I do.
"Where are we, and where did you get the food?
"The stable is in the care of Gallen, the own The Dead Dragon Inn, and belongs to a Count on the eastern border. He comes into Rozinki twice a year, and he's not due back for months. The dieren down there belong to traders who come into town for sup- plies. I chose this place for two reasons, one being if any of those traders saw us, they would look the other way. They'll want nothing to do with the Association, or the reward. I know too many things about them, things that they do that aren't exactly legal, like using unlicensed mages when they're on the edge of the kingdom. They know I know, and they know I wouldn't hesitate to turn them in if they turned me in, so we're pretty safe. But not for too long. By daybreak, this street will be crawling with Swords."
"Then where will we go?" And what will you do?
Kai looked thoughtful. "Well, Gallen is on our side.