The house of Chegwin was generous in victory. In addition to a hefty sum of silver coins awarded to Sabit for securing the favor of Verq, the head of the house arranged for a celebration throughout the forum of justice. The kegs of dark beer and the racks of roast lamb came as no surprise to the more seasoned champions. The Magistrate made a point of encouraging winners to indulge not only all the champions, but also the opposing party in their suit. A watchful observer might say that Verq, the patron lady of justice, did more to achieve peace and unity in the night time songs and bantering between former rivals deep in their cups than in the stark daylight of bloody battles.
Illi regained consciousness not long after the battle, and his appetite not long after that. The man’s thick, black beard had protected the skin of his throat from being cut by the bowstring. He wore only an ugly purple bruise as emblem of his defeat. But with a handful of house Lanyon’s silver and a few tankards of dark beer, any resentment the champion may have held for Sabit was quickly washed away. By night’s end, Illi was happy to reenact his defeat for the delight of his fellow champions, particularly with one of the pretty serving girls standing in for Sabit as she climbed his massive girth.
It had been a long time since Sabit had won so clean a victory. Her skill had won the day and there had been no need to sacrifice her heart to do so. The roast mutton was succulent and the dark beer spread warmth and comfort throughout the spear woman’s body.
Perhaps the overseer was right. Perhaps the forum of justice was the place where Sabit truly belonged.
Wayfarings of Sabit: Isle of the Wicked is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/