Ammanas straightened, his gauzy face relieved. "The House is unconcerned. We need not bother ourselves with this rude intrusion. We may ignore it as one might an irksome fly."
Osserc snapped a glare to Ammanas that just as quickly eased into indifference and he turned away. His gaze found Kyle and the eyes swirled molten, his lips pulled back in what one might generously call a smile, revealing prominent tusks at his lower jaws. "Well done, son of the steppes. I am in your debt."
"Father of Winds," Kyle began, stammering, "I had no idea . . ."
"You were not to. And I am not father to winds or to your people. Your ancestors merely adopted the ancestral totems of sun, sky and winds – all of which shine, turn and blow without my intervention. So are traditions invented. It is up to you to keep them – or not. Here," and he gestured and a weapon appeared in his hand. "I owe you a weapon. Take mine with my thanks and we are even. Goodbye." The giant abruptly turned and walked away, disappearing into the gloom further within. Kyle stared after him as one might a phantom.
"Good riddance!" Ammanas called loudly. "Now, the rest of you, out as well! Out! Is this a grubby tavern? Am I social host?"
Return of the Crimson Guard, by Ian C. Esslemont (Novels of the Malazan Empire #2)
