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‘Tis alright, Uncle,’ Riv said, pointing at Skald and Bror as they traded remarks with one another before leaving for their quarters. ‘By virtue of your years, I think, you are afforded some measure of respect from the young one. Make no mistake, the two are fond of one another, but Bror must have someone to devil, and I am too staid in my old ways as husband and father. But Skald . . . he’s the one to take the heat or be the focus for our youngest brother’s little jokes and pranks.’
His eyes twinkled and he laughed softly, recalling a few. ‘And truth be told, I can’t think of a more deserving victim! Skald was a little terror when we were younger, and I was ever in trouble for defending myself from his antics.’ He winked at Orin. ‘Let him be paid back now in kind by his little brother!’
‘We should drink up our cups and head off, too, I think.’ He stood and hung up the much depleted ale skin and gave the cups a quick rinse, setting them on counter to dry. ‘I’ll see to my friends and their axes tonight before I sleep. Tomorrow, once you’re done talking to Fawrin and the others you know, let’s meet at the supply hold – the one a level down from here. Can you and your friends bring a few small hand-carts? We’ll load them up with food and mayhap some bandages and such. Mahal forbid we have need of the latter!’
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