Page 14 of Inferno
Nerik’s shoulders tensed, but he turned back, regarding Yorin with a calm, neutral expression. The cold indifference cut more deeply than a scowl or a curse ever could. Gods, was it already too late? Had Yorin screwed this up for good? There was only one way to find out.
Heart in his throat, Yorin said, “I was just wondering if it was too late to change my mind about that drink at the pub. Because I’d like to say yes, if the offer’s still open?”
Nerik’s jaw dropped and he seemed momentarily speechless. “Uh… yeah. Yes. Yes,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Yorin said, unable to stop his own grin. “I think the question just came as a surprise yesterday. But I definitely think I got the answer wrong.”
Nerik couldn’t stop grinning. “Yeah, okay. No problem. Tonight, then?”
“If you’re free, yes.”
“At the White Hare?”
“Sure. By the time I close the shop and tidy up, I should be there by about half past five.”
“Great.” A crooked, boyish smile was still curving Nerik’s lips. He slowly backed up towards the door. “I’ll see you then.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Nerik opened the door and stumbled his way out onto the street, eyes locked on Yorin the whole time. The door closed and Yorin took a deep breath. He’d done it. He’d said yes. Without making an enormous fool of himself in the process.
But then a burst of panic hit him as he suddenly realised what he’d done. Gods above, what on earth was he going to wear?
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was about midday when Yorin locked up the shop, slung a satchel of equipment over his shoulder and headed off into the forest. He had an appointment with Mrs Yet, who lived out on the road towards Azertel. The elderly lady would have been due to celebrate her and her husband’s fiftieth wedding anniversary in about a month. Unfortunately, Mr Yet had passed away a little over two years ago. But nonetheless, Mrs Yet had insisted on getting a dress that her husband would have loved to celebrate the occasion. And Yorin had no objection to assisting her. When one was in their seventies, he supposed they could spend their money on whatever made them happy, without worrying too much about frugality and being terribly sensible all the time.
The appointment went smoothly, with Mrs Yet standing more or less still, as she clung to the back of a chair, so that Yorin could take her measurements. Then she easily selected a royal blue fabric from the swatches Yorin had brought with him. He also dropped off a bag of groceries for her – a loaf of bread, half a dozen potatoes, a few apples and a dozen eggs. Mrs Yet was well known in town, and there were a large handful of people who regularly made a point of dropping in to check on her if they came out this way.
Yorin had heard a rumour that Gosta, over at the hospital, had tried to get Mrs Yet to move into a nursing home in town, but the stubborn old lady had refused. There was no point wasting away her final days in a musty little house when she could be out here in the forest, she’d said. And if she ended up face down in her flower bed, then so be it. She’d had a good life and there were far worse ways to see the end of it.
Perhaps it was a reflection of his age, but Yorin had trouble understanding how one could contemplate one’s own death and be so composed about it. But each to their own. Mrs Yet seemed happy enough, and so Yorin was resolved to help her in whatever way he was able.
Once the measurements were complete, he packed up his things and headed back to Minia. It was a pleasant day, the trees shading out the worst of the hot sun, and a cool breeze scented the air with the fragrance of dozens of flowers that grew along the roadside. At this time of the cycle, it was as well to avoid the main road and stay as far as possible from the gate, so Yorin took a side road which he knew would lead him down past Nerik’s cottage. Not that Nerik would be here at this time of day. He would be darting around Minia, delivering packages and cracking jokes as he collected his copper coins.
So it came as quite a surprise when Yorin turned the corner that led to Nerik’s house and spotted both Nerik and a young woman standing outside. As he came closer, he recognised the woman as Liatra, one of the serving women.
Nerik saw him as he approached the gate and looked up in sudden alarm. “What are you doing all the way out here?” Nerik said, breaking off his conversation with Liatra. “If you had a delivery to do, you could have asked.” He glanced at Liatra, then hurried over to Yorin, who stopped in the middle of the road. Nerik lowered his voice. “Is this about yesterday?” he asked, looking worried. “I mean, you’re not mad at me or anything, are you?”
Why was it so endearing that Nerik was worried about the state of their… friendship? Yorin supposed he could call Nerik a friend now, rather than an acquaintance, given that they were going on a date later. “Not a delivery,” Yorin said, a bashful smile tugging his lips upwards. “I had to take measurements for Mrs Yet. She’s ordered a new dress. Believe me, if I hadn’t had to see her in person, I would certainly have given you the job.”
Nerik flushed red and took a step back. “Oh. Right. I see. Um… all good, then.”
Yorin glanced over at Liatra, intending to say a cheerful good afternoon, but much like had happened that morning with Helen, the expression on Liatra’s face pulled him up short. She looked tense and unhappy, though she hadn’t yet descended into tears. “Not that I mean to pry,” he said gently, “but what areyoudoing out here?” It was a rare occasion indeed that one of the serving women had business outside the city.
“I’m helping Liatra find a cottage to rent,” Nerik jumped in, before Liatra could say anything.
“But…” Yorin glanced from Nerik to Liatra, then stepped closer to where Liatra was waiting. She looked notably different from the last time Yorin had seen her. Which was to say, she looked far plainer. Her normal attire was something colourful and revealing, while her long blonde hair would have been loose, or perhaps just held back with a clip or two, and her face done up with subtle but flattering makeup. Now, her hair was tied back in a long braid, her face was free of makeup, and her clothing was… startlingly ordinary, if Yorin was honest about it. She was wearing a pale blue dress that covered her shoulders and bosom more than adequately, and extended well past her knees.
“Why do you need somewhere to live? I thought all the serving women lived in the dorms at the back of the barracks.” The rooms, though on the small side, were comfortable and well furnished, and the women were provided with free food, clothing, soap, oils and herbs for their hair, and a steady stream of gifts of coins and jewels from the warriors to pay for any of their other needs or desires.
“I’ve left the serving women,” Liatra said, avoiding his gaze.
It took Yorin a moment to decipher the reason for her discomfort. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t judge you for that,” he said tentatively.
Liatra scoffed, shaking off her meek diffidence to display a sparking anger instead. “Everyone else has,” she said harshly. “And you might change your mind once you find out I turned down a marriage proposal from Henrick.”
That got Yorin’s attention. Two marriages declined in one day? The world seemed to have tilted sideways all of a sudden. “I’m certainly not going to take any offence to you not marrying Henrick,” Yorin said firmly. Henrick was one of the most celebrated and popular warriors, at the same time as being an entirely insufferable oaf. He was rude, entitled, and took pleasure in belittling anyone he felt was beneath him. In Yorin’s mind, Liatra had made a wise choice in avoiding a lifetime attached to the arrogant asshole.