Kings Game

Chapter 11 - Hounds (1)

"You hungry girl?" asked Roran.

Herda looked up at him and wagged her tail.

Chase had said that she would find her own food but Roran didn't think there would be any rats down in the dungeons for her to snack on. Any refugee that found one would probably kill and eat it themselves.

Heading to the kitchen, with Herda in tow, Roran found it open with a small night crew. A few bleary eyed wardens were shoving food into their mouths while a couple of cooks were cleaning up the kitchen. Roran didn't see the head chef from last time but the cooks were keeping a pot of food warm.

Roran waved at one of the cooks. "Hey, do you have a spare bone for the hound?" Roran had almost said, 'my hound' but thought that would be a step too far.

The cook stared at him for a moment then recognition sparked on his face. "Oh yeah, your Chase's helper. There's a bucket around the counter here, on the side. It's not full but there should be a bone in it.

"Thanks," said Roran. He started walking around the counter when Herda trotted past him. She want straight to a bucket with some bones and meat scraps in it. She nosed through them, finding a big, meaty bone and pulling it from the bucket. Wagging her tail, Herda came back to Roran's side.

Smiling, Roran ruffled her ears. As he was getting ready to leave, the cook called out to him again. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure," said Roran, "What is it?"

The cook placed a large sack on the counter. "I screwed up when planning the meals and we have way too much food. Beefy hates waste, especially in a small kitchen like this, if he see's this much food sitting out and going bad he'll beat me blue. Can you make it disappear?"

"Disappear?"

"Yeah, give it to the dogs or throw it away or give it to people on the street for all I care. Just make it go away."

"I can do that."

"Thanks kid, I owe you one."

Roran peered in the sack. It was full of bread and wrapped meats and an assortment of vegetables. The food was cold and stale but still perfectly good, far better than the rations the refugees received.

"Happy to help," said Roran, but the cook was already walking away, working to get the kitchen cleaned and shut down for the evening. Shrugging, Roran shouldered the bag and left the mess hall, Herda trotting along behind him with a bone in her mouth.

On his way back to the dungeons, Roran received a few odd looks from the wardens, though most of the gazes were focused on Herda. Despite the extra attention, none of the wardens stopped him or even said anything. The wardens guarding the gate shrugged and waved him through.

When one of the wardens broke off, to let Roran back into the Millgrove cell, he said, "At this rate I should just give you a key."

The idea was appealing for all of two seconds.

"No," said Roran, "Murrin would try to steal it from me and get all of us in trouble."

The warden shrugged and let Roran back into his town's personal little dungeon.

"See you tomorrow kid."

Roran watched him go. He reached out and grabbed the cell bar. Someday, he would be free of these and would never see these bars again. Herda whined at him and leaned her body against his leg.

"And you finally return!" snapped Murrin, his voice cutting through Roran's thoughts like a jagged knife. "Did you enjoy your little- By the gods what is that thing!" Spotting Herda, Murrin stumbled away from Roran.

"This is Herda," said Roran. "One of the wardens asked me to look after her."

"Why in the abyss would you be asked to look after a warden's hound?"

Roran shrugged. "Because he wanted me to. He's kind of weird."

Straightening up, Murrin cleared his throat and said, "Well I hope we're receiving compensation for your efforts. We can't have you working for free."

Roran blinked Murrin.

"Anyways, given that you were helping your champion all day, I expect that you were paid for your efforts."

"They were having me watch one of their fights. I didn't do any work."

"If you didn't help them at all, then why would they bother taking you with them? I don't believe your lies, boy."

Roran debated explaining Kell's plan to murder the gods and that he was supposed to help—even though he wasn't sure how yet—but decided the conversation wouldn't be worth the headache. Instead he tossed the bag of food at Murrin's feet.

"I got this for helping the wardens."

Murrin's jaw dropped as he tore open the bag

"I don't think they're supposed to send food down here, so don't mention it when they hand out the rations. I'm going to sleep."

Murrin was ignoring Roran, rifling through the bag. He paused long enough to shove a small roll into his mouth before continuing to examine the contents of the bag. Herda looked from Murrin to Roran.

Roran shrugged. "That's just how he is."

Herda dipped her head and followed Roran to his isolated little section against the wall. When Roran settled down, Herda settled in next to him, rolling her weight against his body and chewing on her bone. Roran reached out and ruffled her fur. It was dense and heavy, but still soft to the touch.

"Holy crap that's a big dog!"

Roran looked up to see Toth grinning down at him. His wounds were recovering quickly and several of the bandages had been removed. He still had scars from what Gress had done to him but they were fading quickly. The medicine in King's City was stronger than anything Roran had seen before.

"She's a King's Hound," said Roran.

"She's a big, fat, fluffball is what she is."

Herda looked up at Toth but continued to gnaw on her bone.

"Do you think she likes to play fetch?"

Toth reached down and went for Herda's bone. Herda growled at him, baring long, sharp teeth. She bit down on the bone, cracking it easily.

"She's a war hound," said Roran, "she's trained to kill people."

Toth backed away. "Uh...nice doggy, good doggy."

Herda settled back down, chewing the marrow out of the now cracked bone.

"Do you want to pet her?" asked Roran, grinning.

"I think I'll pass, you have a good night." Toth backed away a few more paces before turning and hustling back to his mother. Thankfully, Kamil was sleeping soundly, otherwise she probably would have yelled at Roran and made a fuss.

Roran cozied down into the dirt. With Herda leaning into him, it was almost comfortable.