But Bazie voiced neither. Instead, he gazed at Skif for a moment. “‘Tis a long story, but ’tothers ‘ave ’eard it, an’ likely they’ll figger it oughta be me ‘as tells ye.” He paused. “Ye ever ’ear uv th’ Tedrel Wars?”
Skif shook his head.
“Thought not.” Bazie sighed gustily. “Wuz back yon twenny yearn, easy, mebbe thutty. Well, I wuz in’t. Tedrel mercs—tha’s mercenaries, they’s people wut fights wars fer money, fer them as don’ figger on doin’ the fightin’ thesselves—they wuz paid t’come up from south, t’ fight ‘gainst Valdemar fer Karse. On’y ’twasn’t t’ be known thet they wuz doin’ it fer Karse; they wuz a lot uv promises made ‘bout Tedrels gettin’ t’ hev t’half uv Valdemar when they won.” He shook his head. “Daft. ’Course, I didn’ know thet. I wuz young ’n dumb, didn’ think about nawt but loot an’ wimmin.”
“You wuz with ’em?” Skif asked, turning to look at him, mouth agape.
“Oh, aye. Stupid.” He shook his head. “Furst fight, practic’ly, got m’ legs took off at knee. Didn’ know then if ‘twas good luck thet I lived, or bad. Got took up wi’ rest uv prisoners, an’ when war wuz over, didn’ hev nowhere t’ go. On’y I wuz in mercs cuz I wuz caught thievin’ an’ had t’ ’ide, so me’n a couple other young fools decided we stick t’gether an’ see ‘f I cud teach ’em wut I knew ’bout thievin’. So we did, an’ I did.”
“Wut ‘appened to ’em?” Skif asked.
Bazie shrugged. “Went back ‘ome when they had th’ glim, an’ by then, I ’ad young Ames ’n Jodri, an’ I reckoned I ‘ad a good thing. I teach the young ’uns an’ they share th’ swag. Works out.” He smiled—a little tightly. “Sorta like gettin’ some uv th’ loot I wuz promised. Heh. Mebbe I ain’t got part uv Valdemar, but Valdemar’s still feedin’ me. An’ I’m still alive, so I reckon I’m doin’ all right.”
Skif pondered all of that; it was kind of interesting. “So, how come ye take sech good care uv us, eh?” he asked.
Bazie laughed aloud. “An’ ye’d do what if I didn’? Run off, right? ‘Sides, I kinda like the comp’ny. ’Ad a good fam’ly an’ I miss it. Me da wuz a good ‘un, on’y ’e got ‘urt, an’ died, an’ I ’ad t’ do wut I culd fer me an’ mum an’ m’ brothers—till they got sick an’ died i’ plague. Allus wished I’d ‘ad family uv me own, on’y they’s nuthin’ but hoors wi’ merc army, and wut wimmin ’ud hev a fam’ly wi’ me now?” He shrugged. “So I reckon I make me own fam’ly, eh?”
“They sez, i’ temple,” Skif ventured, “thet friends is th’ fam’ly ye kin choose. I sure’s hellfires wouldn’ hev chose m’ nuncle, nor Kalchan. Reckon this way’s a bit better.”
He was rewarded by a beaming smile from Bazie—and perhaps, just a hint of moisture in his eyes, hastily and covertly removed with a swipe of the hand. “Aye,” Bazie agreed. “Reckon tha’s right.”