YetAnotherDisclaimer: Nope, still don't own Eddings or his characters. Surprising, huh?
JustALittleNote: See, see, I said I'd get him drunk. I got Bevvie drunk. o_O
* * *
There was pain, lots of pain, all around him and throbbing in his skull. When he opened his eyes, the white light burned him like red-hot pokers in his eyes. He closed them again.
"You drunk more than I've ever seen you look at," a voice said wonderingly. "What came over you, Bevier?"
"I don't know…" he muttered, trying to block out the pain in his head. The voice was like a dozen hammers all bashing away at his brain.
"You must have had at least five mugs," the voice continued. "Bevier, I've never seen you touch more than one. I can't talk, of course, I had seven. But my stomach is stronger than yours, obviously."
"Don't lie," the Cyrinic groaned. "I saw you go out. How sick were you, Berit?"
He was sure as he said it that the young Pandion was blushing furiously.
"Well, at least I got it out of my system," he defended himself. "You, however, now have your first ever hangover. Congratulations."
"Not my first," Bevier corrected, rubbing his eyes and remembering the time he and a friend, as children, had got into his father's store of home-made wine and had drunk until they both passed out. It hadn't been all that pleasant in the morning, especially with his father very angry with him.
"Well, second then, whatever. I'm the only healthy one, this morning. You should see Kalten. He's too sick to even get out of bed to find a nice barrel of water to dunk his head in."
"You talk too much, Berit, you're getting as bad as Tynian," muttered the knight. "Now get out. My head is in enough pain as it is without you adding more to it. Go on."
"Yes, Sir Bevier," the Pandion said mockingly. "Or should that be Sore Bevier?" The door slammed. Bevier's hands curled into fists. When his head stopped throbbing, he would kill that boy. As it was, he wasn't sure he could even sit up.
He tried opening his eyes, but the light blinded him so he shut them again.
Well, well, he thought miserably. I suppose I've had my first real taste of what they would call "fun", then. Fun. Barrels of fun, this. It suddenly hit him, something he had never considered before. This is my second hangover. My second. I'll bet that Kalten had had more hangovers than he had years by the time he even reached twenty.
It wasn't a pleasant thought at all.
* * *
The hangover gradually wore off as the day passed, and at noon he felt well enough to get up. Down in the bar, there was no sign of the strange girl he had met the night before, but there were plenty of other people to talk to- although most of them were too drunk to say anything remotely sensible. So he didn't really bother, choosing a table and sitting down with a mug of grape juice that looked like wine. After a short while, Berit came in grinning. He saw Bevier in the corner and came to join him.
"Sparhawk's in a dreadful mood," he said cheerily. "I swear, if I hadn't left him alone, he would have hacked my head off."
"Very interesting," sighed Bevier, not in the best of moods himself. Berit wasn't discouraged.
"And Tynian's not much better. I went to see if he was alright, and the moment I opened the door, he bellowed at me to leave- although he didn't use that word, I can tell you."
"What about Ulath?" Bevier asked, curious despite his mood.
"I didn't dare go into his room," Berit replied nervously. "He drunk more than Tynian and me combined last night. I didn't know what he might do to me."
"I wouldn't have dared, either," Bevier mused. They sat in contemplative silence for a while until Berit began talking again.
"I heard some interesting news last night," he commented.
"Oh?" replied the Cyrinic, not really all that interested.
"Yes. A band of brigands have been striking all over this area, hitting villages and fiefs. They hit again yesterday, so the news goes- a fief not too far off, in Arcium, I think. I thought you might be interested."
"Arcium? Did you catch the name of the fief?"
"No, they didn't say that. Apparently it wasn't pleasant, though- the bandits burned the fief almost to the ground and killed a lot of innocent people."
Bevier winced. "Sounds nasty. I hope it wasn't anyone I know."
"So do I," the young Pandion agreed. "Are you leaving today?" he added, changing the subject.
"I expect so," replied Bevier. "It'll be a lonely journey, though. I'm not used to travelling alone." He regretted saying that almost immediately.
"I'll come with you," Berit offered, "if you want, that is."
"No, that's alright," he declined immediately. "It's well out of your way."
The young Pandion sighed and looked left out. Bevier held back a grin.
A young maid hurried up, looking terrified.
"Um, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, my Lords," she stammered, "but there's a very angry knight upstairs and he keeps yelling at me when I try to clean the room. I don't know what to do, my Lords…"
"It's alright," sighed Bevier, standing up. "What does the knight look like?" He hazarded a guess. "Large, blond, blue eyes?"
"Yes," the maid agreed. "Very bloodshot blue eyes."
"That'd be Kalten," Berit said nervously. "Do you want to go and talk to him? I don't think I dare." The maid looked even more frightened.
"W-well, if he's really that bad, m-maybe I'll miss out cleaning up that room until he leaves," she faltered. Bevier patted her shoulder.
"Perhaps that's the best way out," he reassured her. "Berit, I really should be going. I want to get back to Larium as soon as I can."
"Do you really think you should go without saying goodbye to the others?" the Elenian asked, sounding hurt. Bevier sighed. He was still feeling a little bit cross about the night before.
"I really should go," he sighed, trying to sound regretful. "Wouldn't want to keep my Preceptor waiting." He nodded a goodbye to Berit, and left the bar, heading to the stables.