the two of them might resemble hoes looking for customers. Especially since they weren't armed; adventurers bore arms, trollops didn't.
Sunny interrupted her thoughts by pointing at the trapezoidal bar. "There!"
Eile followed her direction and saw an open spot along its front face. "Come on, let's grab it before someone else does."
They hurried over and crowded in between two bruisers. Once they had made room for themselves, Eile looked around some more. "You sure this is the place?"
Sunny reached down and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her belt. She opened it and flattened it out on the smooth stone countertop, then scanned the text. "It says the Bloody Boar, on Gaedolfen Street."
She smirked as she took the letter to look at it more closely. "Yeah, well, this seems like a pretty wretched dive ta meet a lady." The paper appeared to be very high quality powder-blue parchment, and the elegant, ornate script flowed smoothly, indicating a woman of breeding, means, and education. The desk clerk at the inn had given it to them, along with a purse of coins, when they returned from their afternoon errands. He described the individual who had dropped them off as being a dandy, but definitely male.
Sunny shrugged as she traced a finger over the pattern in the counter's tile border. "Maybe she likes slumming, or she's a courtesan. Or, maybe her business is so sensitive she wanted to meet in a place where no one she knew would think to look. You gotta admit, though, ten gold crowns is a pretty generous retainer."
She handed back the letter. "I know; that's what's bothering me."
"Huh?" Sunny snapped her head up and raised her finger, her azure-blue eyes wide behind her granny glasses.
"Well, think about it: it's almost as if she wanted ta make sure we'd show up."
Sunny nodded, refolding the letter and slipping it back into her belt. "You're probably right, but it won't hurt to hear what she has to say."
The bartender came up to them, a giant of a man holding a cleaver, with tree-trunk arms covered with deep, parallel scars, a short zebra-striped beard and spiky hair, and a jagged scar across the face through one marled eye. He looked down at them without saying a word, his arms folded across his barrel chest.
"Ah, my good man," Sunny said in a parody of a high class accent, as she ran a hand through her huge mane of gamboge hair, "I will take a cup of sassafras tea, with a drop of honey, a lemon slice, and a peppermint stick, and a piece of chocolate schnapps cherry torte."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, but Eile could tell his frown looked displeased rather than puzzled.
"Put a sock in it, ya ditz."
Sunny simply crinkled her eyes and giggled.
She sighed in resignation. Sunny liked to play games, and it sometimes got them into trouble, but, she reflected, she actually enjoyed her antics.
Addressing the barkeep she said, "Two ales."
"House brew?" he rumbled.
She waved a hand in a nonchalant manner. "Yeah, yeah, as long as it's wet."
He lowered his arms and rested the edge of the cleaver on the counter. "Let's see your money."
She shrugged and looked at Sunny. As she started to open a purse, a figure walked up between them.
"Allow me, Edjertan." And he held out a gold crown.
Eile turned to get a good look at him. He was head and shoulders taller than they were, but thin, though with good muscle tone. He wore an open reddish coat trimmed with white fur at the collar, over an ornate linen and silk tunic incorporating various shades of green. A leather belt banded in metal, hose, and shoes with pointed toes completed the ensemble. A bicorn hat covered his collar-length, stringy brown hair, and he sported a long goatee trimmed with ringlets. What struck Eile as most unusual, however, was that his gray eyes were lined, with vertical stripes painted over the lids from forehead to cheek and thin lines drawn off the corners of his mouth.
A dandy, she decided, like the one described by the desk clerk.
As the bartender took the offered coin, Eile gazed past their benefactor at Sunny, who winked. Eile realized she understood that if he was the person who had left the letter and purse, most likely his gesture was no chivalrous act, but an attempt to ingratiate himself.
Edjertan held the coin between his thumb and forefinger, and flexed, bending it in half. He grunted, slipped it into the pocket of his apron, and headed into a back room at the rear of the bar.
The dandy stepped back and they turned to face him.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said in a sing-song voice, removing his hat and making a short bow, "I am Ravaroc, raconteur and rascal."
She couldn't help smiling as Sunny grinned. Rascal was right.
Sunny offered her hand as he replaced his hat. "I'm White-Lion, and this is my partner, Braveheart!"
Eile smirked as he feigned surprise. He was also a good actor, she'd give him that.
"Surely not the legendary intrepid and daring Amazons known as Team Girl!"
"Yep, that's us!" Sunny squealed.
He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he lowered his head and kissed her fingers. Eile noted that the backs of his hands were tattooed, and each finger had a ring.
"Oh, my!" Sunny tittered, blushing.
A buxom blonde barmaid, whose bulging bosom threatened to burst out of her low-cut bodice, approached and placed three foaming pewter steins on the counter behind them. As Sunny regained her composure, Eile passed one to Ravaroc, and she and Sunny took the other two.
"I was not aware you were Dreamers." He absently scratched at his long, pointed nose.
That caught Eile by surprise. Few people made that connection that fast.
Sunny snapped her head up, a foam mustache on her upper lip. "How'd you guess?!"
"From your deportment and manner of speech." He took a sip of his brew as Sunny licked off the foam. "What era are you from?"
"Early twenty-first century," Eile replied. She wanted to say as little as possible. Unlike in the Dreamlands, where they had allies and protectors, they could be vulnerable to a hostile Dreamer in the Waking World.
"Are you a Dreamer?" Sunny asked.
"Alas, no; Dreamworld born and bred. How long have you been coming here?"
"Huh, it's gotta be, what, sixty days now?" Eile said.
"This is our sixty-fourth night," Sunny corrected.
"So that's almost thirty Dream-years, though our accumulated time would only be about ten."
"Ten years." He managed to sound marveled. "You two must have had many bold adventures."
She exchanged grins with Sunny. "We've had a few," Sunny remarked in a coy fashion, after which she took a long swallow.
"I would love to hear some of your more exciting tales. I would be honored to add them to my repertoire."
She glanced at Sunny, who smiled and nodded. "Sure, why not, but we'd like ta sit down if it's all the same ta you."
"Of course. I have a table reserved. It's over here." And he turned and headed towards a back corner. She flashed a skeptical smirk; she doubted a dump like that took reservations, but she and Sunny trailed along after him.
She felt only mildly surprised when she saw that two other people already occupied his table. Sunny flashed a sideways smirk, and she realized her partner suspected what she did, that Ravaroc must have been hired by their mystery letter-writer to contact them and size them up before bringing them together.
One of the pair sat while the other stood behind her with his back to the corner. She appeared to be a very elegant lady, late middle-aged but looking younger, with bright turquoise eyes and wavy shoulder-length autumn-red-gold hair framing a round, rosy-pink, chubby-cheeked face. Though she wore a plain dark cloak over her shoulders, Eile could tell her body matched her face, having plenty of soft curves; bred for pleasure rather than work or combat. She caught glimpses of a rich satin gown trimmed with ermine and silk peaking through the cloak's open front. Her companion, shrouded in gray, masked and gloved, might have been a statue except for the way his stone-gray eyes tracked e
verything that went on around the table.
Ravaroc made another exaggerated sweeping gesture towards the seated woman. "Team Girl, allow me to introduce the Lady Belatria Countess m'Esad."
As usual, Sunny stated the blindingly obvious: "You wrote the letter, and had Ravaroc drop it off at the inn along with the retainer."
She smiled. "Correct." She spoke in a liquid, languid voice. "Please, have a seat."
Eile glanced at Sunny, who crinkled her eyes and nodded.
She shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not." She sat in the closest chair as her partner took the one beside her. She noted that Ravaroc took a position directly behind them.
"Soooo," Sunny said, "what can we do for you?"
"I would like to hire your services as adventurers."
Eile waited for her to continue, but when m'Esad didn't she shrugged again. "We kinda figured that. What sort of adventure?"
"I need you to get me access to a sacred site."
Once again she failed to elaborate. Eile felt her frustration rise. "What sorta site?"
"An ancient ruined temple, located in the south of the Six Kingdoms."
She sighed. She got the distinct impression that m'Esad had expected they would jump at the chance without question. "What for?"
For the first time m'Esad's expression turned displeased. "That is my business. All you need to worry about is getting into the inner sanctum."
She exchanged another glance with Sunny, and she saw from her partner's expression that she too had realized further negotiations would be fruitless. She nodded, and Sunny retrieved a small leather bag from her belt. She tossed it onto the table as they both stood up.
M'Esad flashed an angry look. "And just where do you two think you're going!"
"Look, it's obvious this isn't gonna work out. Sorry we wasted yer time."
Ravaroc placed a hand on their shoulders, as if to push them back into their seats. They both elbowed him in the abdomen so hard that he gave out with a sharp grunt and backed away as he doubled over.
M'Esad stood up in a hasty manner. "Wait a minute! I don't understand."
"We don't operate blind, lady. You wanna keep secrets? Fine, but not from us. You either take us inta yer confidence, or we walk."
"What difference should it make? You're paid --"
"We're paid ta risk our necks for others, but we'll decide when and where, and this isn't it; not under these circumstances."
"El Dorado, Paramount Pictures, 1966, directed by Howard Hawks; starring John Wayne and Robert Mitchum."
M'Esad did a double-take, then frowned in a derisive manner at Sunny and focused her attention on Eile. "What makes you think there's any risk involved?"
She and Sunny barked laughs. "Yer kiddin', right? If there was no risk you wouldn't be tryin' ta hire us. Plus, yer tryin' ta keep yer purpose a secret. That registers an eight-point-oh on the suspicion scale all by itself. That most likely means that whatever yer up to, we doubt it's anything legitimate, and it probably ain't legal, either. That makes some element of risk virtually certain."
"I assure you --"
"Don't bother; it doesn't matter. Look, Sunny and I aren't squeamish. We don't care if it's illegal, though we draw the line at pillage, rape, and murder. But you gotta spill it all, otherwise no deal. You willin' ta do that?"
M'Esad displayed a frustrated sneer that indicated she didn't know how to respond, but didn't want to appear weak.
"Fine. Whatever."
"It's probably just as well," Sunny said, "because we'll be leaving in the morning, after we finish some quick business."
They turned to leave, but Ravaroc blocked their way.
"I strongly suggest you change your attitudes, and your minds," m'Esad said.
She and Sunny looked back over their shoulders. "You don't wanna threaten us, lady." Sunny's voice sounded quiet, calm, but quite firm. Eile knew that when she used that tone she had shifted from scatterbrained airhead to her alias namesake.
They turned their attention back front. "Get out of our way," Sunny told Ravaroc.
Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/397061]
From "Fun 'n' Games"
Sir Differel Van Helsing sat at her desk, filling out another in the endless series of reports she submitted to the Privy Council, when Aelfraed entered with a food tray. She glanced up at him and went back to writing, oblivious to everything except trying to explain a request for more personnel, so it took a few moments for the shilling to drop. When it did, she snapped her head up in wide, pop-eyed shock as her heart stammered.
He wore the costume of a BDSM submissive, what little of it there was.
"What the bloody hell is this?!"
He didn't bat an eye. "Your lunch, Madam." He placed the tray down in front of her, on top of her report, neither of which was appropriate.
She raised an eyebrow, exasperated. "No, I mean your attire."
"Ah, yes, of course, I image that would seem strange. The staff had a meeting this morning and we voted on a change of uniforms."
She frowned, irritated. "Without consulting me?" Then she realized how ridiculous it sounded to be upset about that rather than the result.
"My apologies, My Lady, but it was an emergency. We also came to the consensus that we were entitled to a daily orgy."
She just about had a heart attack. "Orgy?!"
"Yes, My Lady. In fact, today's has already started and I am anxious to get back. You're welcome to join us after you've finished eating. We won't stand on ceremony." And he took the top off the plate.
"Is this a bloody joke --" she began, then cut herself off with a hiss when she looked down, jumping back in her chair. The plate was filled with feces covered in vomit.
"My Holy God!"
"It's a new dish Madam Trumbo and I whipped up. We're eager to see what you think."
This is a bloody nightmare! she thought. "If you expect me to eat this, you're crackers!"
He actually looked disappointed. "I admit it's unusual." He took the fork and cut off one end. "Perhaps it could use a different preparation."
She watched in horrified fascination as he raised the utensil to his face, but just before he inserted it into his mouth, she leapt out of her chair and slapped it out of his hand.
"What the bloody hell's come over you, you git?!"
He managed to look appalled and outraged at the same time. "Really, Madam! You don't have to eat it, but your behavior is most uncalled for! Now, if you'll excuse me, my Mistresses will be getting impatient." And he stalked out of the room.
She felt too shocked to react. It made absolutely no sense. If she were not certain she was awake, she would have suspected she was dreaming. As it was, it seemed too surreal to comprehend.
Snap out of it, you bloody slag! Looking down, she felt her stomach churn with disgust at the contents of the plate, and she put the cover back on to keep it out of sight. She felt her gut quake with nausea, and she took a moment to light a cigarillo to calm it. She then headed out the door into the hall beyond.
It looked deserted. She could see all the way down to the security gate that closed off access from the central and eastern sections of the house, and there should have been two guards, one outside her office door and the other down by the gate. She walked towards the end where the hall connected with the transverse corridor that ran the length of that wing north to south, and paused to look down towards the offices. There should have been a third guard on duty there as well, and usually a few people were walking the halls or enjoying a smoke out in the west portico, but she saw no one.
Using her security key card, she unlocked the gate and headed up the family passage. She found no one outside in the north portico, but when she reached the door that led into the great hall, she thought she heard moaning and wailing, like a horde of Zombies was on the other side. She threw open the door and charged onto the dais at the west end, but stopped dead at what she saw.
Her entire staff--servants, analysts,
and guards alike--lay naked on the floor in a gigantic undulating mass, engaging everyone they could reach in numerous sexual acts of the most disgusting nature imaginable. In the center, Aelfraed kneeled between Mrs. Widget and Madam Trumbo dressed in dominatrix outfits.
She stood paralyzed, wondering if the whole world had suddenly gone mad.
Six young maids cavorted with three footmen no more than a fathom from the foot of the dais. One of them happened to look up, and her face split into a huge grin.
"There she is!" That caught the attention of her five companions, but the footmen remained oblivious.
"Get her!" another shouted, and the six jumped up and charged the dais. The footmen remained where they were, and simply transferred their affections to new partners and each other.
Surprised, Differel could only take a couple of steps backwards before they swarmed over the edge and surrounded her, cutting off her escape. Giggling and shrieking, they grappled her.
"What? Stop! Take your hands off me!" But they ignored her as they began ripping off her clothes.
She struggled, but they were stronger than she expected, and they had the advantage as they bore her to the floor. "Get off of me, you filthy slags! Let me go! That's an order!"
They stripped her down to her underwear, but just as they tore away her bra and panties Vlad appeared behind her head. He roared, assuming a horrifying visage, and the maids fled screaming back to the mass of people in the main part of the hall.
He held out his hand; she took it and he pulled her up. She looked past him and saw the staff getting on their feet and advancing towards the dais.
"I think we should leave."
He turned to look where she stared. "I can stop them," he rumbled.
"I don't want you to hurt them!"
He turned to give her a mocking leer. "Then discretion would be the better part of valor."
"Cover me!" She ran for the door, and she heard her people give chase. She raced down the passage to the gate and jumped through, then turned and slammed it shut in the mob's face, locking it. Vlad flowed through the bars and the lead people fell against it, trying to push it open. Deciding not to wait to see what they did next, she sprinted for her office, closed the door, and locked it down as Vlad appeared through the wall.
"Get the other one!"
He closed and locked down the door to the meeting room as she went to the safe and ran the combination.
"Stand aside." He pulled the heavy door open with little effort. "Inside."
She ran in just as she heard banging on the outer doors. Vlad pushed the door closed and turned the lock, and she heard it engage.
Reaching above her, she turned on the light as the Master Vampire stepped through the door. "You are safe for the moment."
"Aelfraed knows the combination."
"It will take awhile to get the other doors open."
"He also knows about the access panel." In the back of the chamber lay a kick-away panel that opened onto a secret helical staircase.
"I will prevent anyone from getting in that way."
"No, I have a more important task for you. We need to know how far this has spread. Go to the groundskeeper's cottage. If he and his family are safe, evacuate them and have them raise the alarm. If they've succumb, go to the military compound. If you have to go
The Adventure of the Golden Mushroom Page 15
