Chapter 4 - The Headman

When they entered the small town, they found crowds of people filling the streets, thrown on the street sides, against the walls, under colonnades, on torn blankets, or directly on the ground. Grubby, sullen faces turned when the foreigners passed by.

But, surprisingly, when they saw who was the one on the front of the group, their concerned expressions turned in relief, and many even stood up to greet the newcomers.

Even so, no one said a word, such that they were in disbelief to find her boss safe and sound.

The group reached a little square, with a stone pavement and surrounded by rough, rocky buildings. It was once used to host a market, nowadays not held anymore.

In the centre, an old man shot commands to the numerous man moving supply sacks.

He was short and bent with age, the olive skin hung, wrinkled, from the limbs. A pair of almond shaped eyes followed every movement in the square and so, he didn't miss the arrival of the fifteen strangers.

He murmured some orders to another man by his side and headed towards them.

For their part, the group noticed the village headman too and was ready to reach him, but the old man made the first move and, got to them, took one of Kiira's hands and kissed it.

<>.

Kiira slightly smiled. She always liked that little, strange, aged man, treating her as a niece of his and offering that bit of tea he had saved during the year for their next meeting.

<> she replied, bending over to kiss his cheeks.

<> the other muttered, blushing, <>.

<> She tried to defend herself, laughing, <>.

The old man raised his hand to caress her upper arm and, amused, said: <>.

<> Kiira faked resentment.

<>.

At the last words, the smile vanished from their faces and, sadly looking at each other, entered the darkened house.

Inside, they found a poorly furnished room. There was only a short table, with some pillows spread on the floor, and a fireplace in an angle.

Garah headed to the fireplace and started messing about to light a little fire. When he succeeded, he turned around and, looking at the fifteen still standing, squawked: <>.

A little grin wrinkled Kiira's lips, who seated first and then encouraged her fellows with a glimpse to follow her example.

At that sight, the old man smiled and took out a teapot and some cups from an ancient trunk and filled the teapot with tea leaves, before hanging it on the flame.

While waiting for the tea to get ready, he came to his guests and started: <>.

Everyone turned towards Kiira. She cleared her throat and said: <>.

<> Garah reflected, <>.

The silence filled the room. The old man came back to the fireplace to grab the teapot and fill up the cups put on a tray.

Realising the gloomy mood he threw everyone in, he hurried to add: <>.

Everyone grabbed a cup and slowly tasted the warm drink. Outside was truly hot, but the drink's warmth wasn't unpleasant at all. It had a delicate flavour, with a fruity scent.

<> Garah tried to start a new conversation, <>

This time, it was Irik to answer: <>.

<> Kiira participated in.

<>.

A young man let slip an exasperated: <>.

The old man stared at him and Irik hurried to hit him on the scruff of the neck, calming down the headman, who continued: <>

<> replied the young man from before.

Irked, Garah asked: <>.

He stared back and answered: <>.

<> Garah repeated, <>.

He looked at his interlocutor's olive skin and dark brown hair, big, dark eyes and average build.

<> he kept on, <> concluded with a sharp irony.

The man turned pale with anger and was about to respond, when Kiira prayed: <>.

<> the old man replied, <>.

Fal stayed quiet, listening to the exchange.

<> Kisya intervened, <>.

<> Garah observed, <>.

<> Kiira smiled.

The old man laughed and Kisya put his head on one of Kiira's shoulders, amused by that little man.

<> the headman said, <>.

Kiira grabbed his hand and thanked their host: <>.

<> he reassured her, <> and pointed maliciously towards Fal, who frowned, annoyed.

<> Kiira jokingly moaned.