Page 28 of The Scouts

LEISURE

Asirhwÿn

LOCHAN

Since handing Sigrunés over to the Queen, Heinnés’ mood had lifted like a morning fog. In a rare spurt of magnanimity, he awarded us all a five-hour gehÿn, ordering us to report back in time for evening meal. Himself, he intended to have a civilised conversation and a quiet drink with Commander Yennés. As strong a hint as any that he wanted us out of his hair.

Most of the unit decided on a trip to the capital’s red-light district or its famous market to make some purchases. The ambitious types resolved to try and do both. A couple of intellectuals opted to explore the Grand Royal Library.

Ervyn and I settled on having an aimless wander through the city—something I’d long wanted to do with him. Even though we’d visited Asirhwÿn twice before, duty and time restrictions had always limited our opportunities for leisure.

Fierce heat poured from the skies that day.

Asirhwÿnian-born and bred, I didn’t mind the scorching conditions. If anything, the ten years I’d spent living in Něssyr only further reinforced my fondness for the sun.

Ervyn, however, was having none of it.

“Bloody hell. How do people live here?” he murmured for the tenth time since he’d left the bastion. Every dozen steps, he wiped his brow and nape with his neckerchief.

I feared he’d rub himself raw by sunset.

His whinging about the hot weather seemed such a stereotypically Dark Elven thing to do that I couldn’t help but feel both endeared and amused by it. All the more so because—given Ervyn’s upbeat personality—he didn’t usually let himself be bothered by external factors.

“You’re such an ikelle,” I said, using Asirhwÿnian slang.

Ervyn squinted at me. “Who’s that, now? Sounds like a nasty disease.”

“One who fails at heat.”

He snorted. “Aye. You’re not wrong there, mu’hrōnye.”

Not two ticks had passed before he reached for his neckerchief again. “It’s too fucking hot, is all I’m saying.’

The Silver City had changed since my boyish days, but I remembered the way to the river, of course. I led Ervyn south and away from the bustling centre, where hordes of carriages, riders and pedestrians rushed amongst the huddle of soaring buildings.

By the banks of Eiñji, we watched the boats going up and down the water, enjoying the light breeze and spectacular view of the capital’s skyline. I wanted Ervyn, who had an enormous sweet tooth, to try some âiskurii, so I purchased two portions from a street vendor at an extortionate price. Anything that required ice—hence Magic—in its manufacturing process came dear in Asirhwÿn. But witnessing Ervyn discover this lush dessert of frozen cream crushed with fruit juice for the first time made the experience more than worth it.

The sun lowered over the river and coloured the sky in hazy, golden tones. Across the way, the white turrets caught light one by one, scintillating like a string of sparkles in the distance. Having admired the pretty sight for a bit, we headed back towards where we left our horses.

Strolling down the cobble-paved alley away from the docks, we happened upon a well-lit establishment that sold herbs, crystals and healing charms.

Its double doors stood wide open, as customary for Asirhwÿnian business, granting passers-by a good gander inside. The owner’s lavender robes announced his medical profession as an õkimahi. He must’ve finished tattooing a customer not long ago because he was occupied with cleaning his ink engraving tools and arranging tiny bottles of powdered pigments into a neat row.

One glance at his quill-like yaanöŭr needles, split at the ends and razor-sharp—I knew from experience—told me the õkimahi practised the traditional technique.

In contrast to steel needles and liquid colourants, hand-tapped tattoos were a dying art. They allowed for more intricate, lacy designs, but were also damn painful—too much for most to endure without anaesthesia. I’d had both of mine done that way, having refused Uncle Revendi’s painkilling glamour. My pulse quickened at the memory of those agonising few hours and the exhilarating rush that sensation had triggered in me.

I sighed. Had time been on my side, I would’ve loved a new tattoo. But then a large display of body piercings in the shop caught my attention.

My interest must’ve shown because one side of Ervyn’s mouth lifted. “Care to take a look?”

We bid the õkimahi a good day and walked in.

He soon approached us, smiling. “Anything in particular you’re after?”

Since I had thought about it for a while, I answered without pause, “A nipple piercing.”

Ervyn’s smirk faltered on the spot. “Nipple?” He swallowed. His hand travelled to his chest, the tip of his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. All the proof of his instant investment in the idea I needed.