“Put a log in your mouth, Aleksandras, and spare us your sound. If your boy is a poet then mine is a mountain. Have you heard his songs?”
“He’s a poet if he has a poet’s ear, and he does. Your boy is the one who falls over constantly, if I’m not mistaken.”
Some of the men nearby chuckled. Andrius noticed Herkus’s cheeks flush, and it was not from the fire.
“If only you had so much courage when speaking to your wife, Aleksandras.”
Andrius had turned back to his work, but now he listened intently to await how his father would defend himself.
“Well, Herkus, understand that—”
“Do not play pretend that you have a spine when you are at the Stone Gathering, Aleksandras. We know your wife had it removed years ago. She probably made you do it yourself.”
The men roared with laughter. Andrius’s stomach knotted. He wanted badly for his father to bite back, to leave Herkus with a retort that stopped their stupid laughter, but Aleksandras only pulled the blanket around his shoulders and stammered.
“I didn’t mean that your son wasn’t a fine boy, Herkus. He’s bright and strong just like his father. That’s—that’s a good jest about my spine. Haha, you . . .”
The other men scoffed at Aleksandras’s feckless response. Andrius set his offering to the side and pulled his knees to his chest.
“Enough of this,” Herkus declared, still chuckling. He rose from his seat. “Is your boy ready to lose you all of your chickens in our wager?”
The corner of Aleksandras’s lips curled into a smile.
“He hasn’t lost yet.”
“You’re crazy, Herkus!” A hairy, bearded man shouted nearby. There was a chorus of agreement.
“Ah, ah!” Herkus raised his hands. “His magic ears fail him tonight.”
Andrius kept his eyes on Herkus, who pulled a fist out of his pouch. He opened his hand to reveal nine rocks, smooth as the windows high up on Gimdymo Namai.
“I’ve polished these rocks for a fortnight. They are smoother than the skin of your backside when you were born.”
The group of men booed and laughed at him.
“Wait,” Herkus loudly interjected. “I have one more piece of strategy yet.”
Andrius continued to follow Herkus with his eyes even as the man came around the fire and crouched just short of him. Herkus called to Adomas to serve as judge, and the young, beardless man came around the fire and stood between them. Everyone trusted Adomas, so he was a good choice. Herkus was confident.
The older gentleman playing the pipes laid down his instrument, listening in.
“River sand,” Herkus vaunted. He put his hand back into his pouch and began to scoop a pile of it onto the ground. “Maybe I should call it silt. It makes no sound when a man steps on it. Should a tiny rock be any different?”
The men started to murmur, and a few began placing bets against the champion. Aleksandras’s confidence, however, was unwavering.
“Do your worst, Herkus. My boy will hear.”
Herkus smirked as he smoothed out the river silt, forming it into a rectangular bar.
“No one can hear this. Now be quiet. I don’t want it said that the contest was unfair.”
The amphitheater was instantly silent. Only the crackling fire scratched the surface of the crystalline silence.
Herkus gently spread his fingers so as to hold the rocks apart from each other.
“I’ll know if you try and cheat, boy,” Herkus muttered. “So take your defeat like a man.”
“I think I’ll just take your chickens,” Andrius replied.
The crowd of men hooted at the boy’s response. Harkus shouted them down, then shushed them, irritated.
“We’re starting.”
Then, silently and with extreme caution, Herkus took a stone with two fingers of his right hand and moved it from the palm of his left hand to the pile of sand. He breathed tentatively, reaching for another stone and gingerly pressing it into the sand. The fire continued to pop until he was done, and he leaned back in satisfaction.
“How many stones?”
The crowd waited with bated breath. Andrius had never lost at this game, but Herkus had done well. None of the men had heard the slightest noise when he set his stones into the sand.
A grin spread across Andrius’s face.
“I can hear your stones just as easy as anyone’s. Five stones.”
“What?” Herkus exclaimed. Adomas reached down and counted off the stones for all present.
“One, two, three, four, five. The boy’s right.”
Aleksandras beamed, and those who had bet on Andrius cheered.
“That is impossible!” Herkus growled. He stood up sharply and pushed past Adomas’s arm. “You cheated!”
“How could he have cheated, Herkus?” Aleksandras said. “You were right in front of him the entire time. The boy has magic ears.”
Herkus spit. “Magic ears or not, he cheated somehow. Those stones were silent.”
The men who had bet against him laughed and teased him. Aleksandras also joined in the fun.
“He is unbeatable, Herkus, you fool! Your confidence isn’t so helpful now, is it?” He chuckled. Andrius kept his eyes on Herkus’s increasingly bitter scowl as the large man marched around to where Aleksandras sat and gloated. “Now when will I be receiving your chickens, Herkus the Brash? I have so many now, but two more will be wonderful.”
Herkus grabbed Aleksandras by the front of his clothes and shook him. He pulled him violently to his feet.
“Close your trap, you old fool; you’ll get nothing from me!”
Andrius stood up and cried out. “Let go of him!”
Herkus ignored him. No one else intervened.
“Why would I give my chickens to a spineless woman like you, Aleksandras? Your boy may have won this stupid game, but you are still a useless excuse for a man.”
“Stop that!” Andrius shouted. “Hit him, Papa!”
The other men froze, waiting for the outcome of the exchange.
It was Herkus who spoke next. “Remember, old man. My boy Viktor is strong, a talented musician, and he has the memory of an elephant. Your boy will never be anything more than a cheap trick.”
He shoved Aleksandras back into his seat and spit on him. To Andrius’s great shame, Aleksandras’s only response was to cower.
“Come along, Viktoras,” Herkus said.
Andrius shook as they left. In short order all of the others shuffled on as well, their canes creating a discordant symphony as they slid and tapped along the ground.
Finally they faded in the distance down the road, and Andrius and his father were left alone.
The fire was dying upon its embers, but Aleksandras remained where he was, curled up and cowering. Andrius held his eyes on him a long time.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Andrius went to his father and helped him sit upright. He scratched at Aleksandras’s whiskers with his hand.
“Magic ears,” Aleksandras whispered. He smiled. “Well done, my boy.”
“Let’s go, Papa. It’s cold.”
Aleksandras nodded.
“Yes, yes, it’s cold. You did it, my boy. Magic ears.”
Andrius quietly collected his things, taking a sip of his water and putting his offering under his arm. He walked back to his father and they began to make their way home along Stone Road.