Teri McLaren
down quietly, and Wiggulf held up his hand for silence. The chatter stopped immediately. Yob took a deep breath and raised his hand to Cheyne.
"No one has ever bested me, human. You own my service now. I offer you my life."
"What?" Cheyne blinked as a strong whiff of woodsmoke washed over his face, and when it cleared, Yob still had one hand in the air, but the other held his own dagger at his heart. "I await your choice, human. My life or my death."
Cheyne looked for Og in the crowd, and the song-mage stepped out dramatically, bowed to Yob, and began to explain.
"Such a thing is customary among the Wyrvil. If a Wyrvil takes on an opponent in this game, he or she must win or their life is forfeit. Yob is a Wyrvil underk-ing. This very game was the way he won his kingdom," said Og. Yob nodded, his eyes trained on Cheyne.
Cheyne stared back in disbelief. "You have played for your life?"
The songmage pretended not to notice the look Claria threw him as he pocketed Frijan's earring.
"You did not know? This game is always for life. Had you lost, you would be my subject now, or you would have to take your own life. But say what you would have of me. Service or death," said Yob, unflinching.
"Yob, I am unwilling that you should die for such foolishness-"
"It is no foolish!" roared the ore.
"All right. All right. Then… service. Live, my… friend," said Cheyne, still baffled.
Yob's knees buckled under him as he returned his bulk to the bench. He sheathed the dagger and raised his drink.
"To service," he said, and the selkies nervously joined the toast.
"His entire kingdom is yours now. That's all the land outside Sumifa from the oasis to the scrubland," whispered Og excitedly to Cheyne.