Apart from the sword strapped to his back, he didn’t look as if he carried anything else of worth.
Perhaps he left tradable items with his steed outside? But in these lawless lands, no one was that stupid. Anything valuable left unattended even for a moment was ripe for thievery. The boy-man didn’t even carry a satchel, and Wolfe detected no purse hidden in the folds of his mantle or dangling from his belt.
The soldier rose noisily to his feet, making Wolfe tense with caution.
He was a giant of a man, and armed besides. Wolfe had no doubt in his own ability to take such a threat down if need be, but he was a lot less certain of the boy-man who still seemed oblivious to the ever-increasing danger. In fact, the stranger still had his back towards the threat.
“Are ye deaf, boy?” the soldier growled, towering directly behind the stranger’s much smaller frame.
“I asked ye nicely. Now yer startin’ ta piss me off.”
Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, the stranger turned around to face his challenger.
Wolfe still couldn’t see anything of his face, but he heard the crisp accent of his voice clearly across the now quiet room.
All eyes in the small tavern were on the boy and the soldier, anticipating a confrontation. This was as close to free entertainment as the patrons could get in these parts.
The boy-man leisurely surveyed the soldier from head to boots. He then looked behind the bear of a man to the table where his compatriots sat leering and jeering.
Finally, he said, “I should likeyoursword and dagger, your friend’s crossbow,andall the gold pennies in the pouch at your waist.”
“Shite,” Tristan whispered, avidly watching the scene unfold like everyone else in the establishment.
“Now he’s done it.”
The soldier’s eyes widened briefly before he threw his head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all year.
The boy-man waited in complete stillness until he collected himself again.
“Unless ye plan to bend over fer me and me mates right on the tavern bar, I doubt ye’ll be gettin’ anythin’ but a fist in the face, elf.”
He looked the stranger up and down derisively and scoffed.
“Boys don’t normally yank me rod, but there’s somethin’ about ye. Wouldn’t mind fuckin’ the hoity toity snot right outta ye. Ye got finer skin than a girl. Thighs probably just as soft. And that tight little hole…tighter than Red’s, I’m willin’ ta bet.”
Tristan stirred uncomfortably, his hand going to his weapon.
This was another reason Wolfe tolerated the boy’s company.
Deep down, Tristan was a good lad. He had honor. One day, he was going to grow into a great man.
But right now, Wolfe detained him with a look. If anyone was going to interfere, it was going to be him.
Tristan might have talent with a sword, but he hadn’t yet learned how to fight dirty like these soldiers of war had. He wouldn’t last a minute with the giant.
“How about we take a different bet?” the stranger said, his voice as nonchalant as ever, almost bored.
“If you take my sword from me, one on one, you may have it. If in the attempt, I render you unconscious but not dead, I get what I asked for earlier.”
This time, the whole tavern, save Wolfe’s table, joined the soldier in his uproarious laughter.
And also bloodthirsty delight.
For, these were fighting words. The spectators were already anticipating a rousing good show.
“WhenI take yer needle, I’ll be stickin’ meswordwhere I said earlier,” the soldier returned, already flexing his ham-sized fists.
“Then we have a deal?” the boy-man stated without inflection.