by Robert Evert
“And unprofessional,” Syntharin added unexpectedly. The others looked at him. “Who shows up to work a day early?”
“Exactly!” Magnus chimed in.
“Unprofessional,” Allyn repeated.
“If I were you—” Magnus began.
“Which you are most certainly not!” Allyn replied sharply.
A wagon rattled by. One of the oxen pulling it crapped all over the road next to them.
“Which I’m not,” Magnus agreed, stepping away from the reeking piles of manure. “However, if I was, I’d come with us to find this Haystack and then the inn the gatekeeper recommended. The Wayward. Hopefully, its someplace a soon-to-be-famous musician would stay at. In fact, we should find the inn first and make sure we can get a room. Then we’ll eat, and you can spend the evening with your feet up, relaxing from your long trip.”
“You’re right! Thanks Magnus. You know, you’re a lot smarter than you let on.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Oh,” Allyn said. “You know what I mean! Let’s go find the inn and get settled. Then I’ll buy the beer.”
“Dinner first,” Magnus said. “And we won’t get the beer from The Lily. Not tonight. We’ll have plenty of time to drink there and hear you play later.”
“Fine. But let’s hurry. This section of town is a cesspool.”
• • •
Magnus led them up the road to the base of the middle hill. That area of the city was slightly cleaner than by the gate, but fly-covered mounds of animal feces still littered the road, and street urchins continued to follow them, begging for food and offering various services.
“Show you to the best inn,” one child said, tugging on Allyn’s sleeve. “Just one copper. One measly copper, and I’ll save you the trouble of looking around.”
Allyn shooed him away.
“Women?” the boy persisted. “Want women? Big boobs. Small boobs. What’s your pleasure?”
“Go!” Allyn shouted.
The boy gave Allyn the middle finger, then ran off to join his mates waiting on a street corner.
Magnus lifted a listless hand to a three-story building at the crossroads the gatekeeper had told them about, a sign over the door proclaiming it The Wayward Inn. Painted a bright blue, it was the most cheerful building in the otherwise dreary city.
“Here we go,” he said. “I’m guessing this is it. Seems kind of ritzy, but not obnoxious.”
“Looks expensive,” Syntharin said.
Allyn sighed in relief. “It’s perfect! You two can split a room. I’ll pay for it!”
“Are you sure?” Syntharin asked. “You haven’t gotten paid yet. Maybe you should save your money.”
“Nonsense!” Allyn urged them to the inn. “Come on. Let’s live it up!”
Magnus didn’t move. “I’ll stay out here for a bit.”
Allyn raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Look at me!” Magnus tugged at the muddy, threadbare clothes he’d traveled in. He’d purposefully chosen to wear his worst clothes in case highwaymen attempted to rob them. “I’m not exactly the type of person people rent rooms to under the best circumstances.”
“Don’t say that, Mag,” Syntharin said. “You’re doing really well for yourself lately.”
“Compared to where I was—yeah.” Magnus sighed heavily. “Do me a favor, alright? Go in there and get two rooms, then I’ll sneak in later.”
“Mag, you don’t have to sneak—”
“Trust me. You’ll get a better price for the rooms if the owner sees you two upstanding citizens.”
Magnus could tell they agreed with him but didn’t want to say so.
“Alright,” Allyn said. “But I’m buying you dinner tonight. Whatever you want. The sky’s the limit! You’ve been a godsend on this trip. And I appreciate you offering to come along. I would’ve been a nervous wreck had I come by myself.”
Magnus laughed. “I think you’re taking pity on me because I’m a pathetic ne’er-do-well.”
“You’re not a ne’er-do-well, Mag,” Syntharin said. “When you have your new clothes on—”
Allyn cut him off. “Let’s talk about this later. I want to make sure we get rooms.”
“You going to be okay?” Syntharin asked Magnus.
“I’m fine,” Magnus assured him. “Get the rooms and put your things away. Then we’ll get this huge dinner Allyn was talking about.”
“I didn’t say huge,” Allyn replied.
“Either way—” Magnus guided them toward inn. “Remember to haggle. Otherwise, they’ll raise the rates on you tomorrow.”
“Right!” Allyn said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Stay here and don’t get into any trouble while we’re not looking.”
Magnus feigned indignation. “How could I get in trouble?”
Allyn and Syntharin were still laughing when they disappeared into the inn.
• • •
As soon as his friends were out of sight, Magnus sprinted up the congested road skirting the westernmost hill, ducking and weaving around the townsfolk who got in his way. Twice he ran into somebody. Both people quickly checked their money pouches. One man drew a knife and shouted.
Magnus ran and ran until he reached the other side of the hills. He was going to ask some of the children playing in the street if they were in the Old Quarter, but he had no need. Of all the sections of Green Hill he’d seen, this was the oldest. All around him were once-respectable stone buildings, now falling apart. Some were nothing more than ruins and the ghostly remains of what was once a thriving and prosperous city.
Magnus held his nose. The stench of hundreds of cows crammed in small pens, waiting to be led to the bloodstained slaughterhouses by the river, made his eyes water. Their mournful mooing made him rethink his desire to have beef for dinner.
Focus…
He had to find The Gilded Lily and then race back to the inn before Allyn suspected anything.
Magnus stood in the middle of the street, trying to see around the people passing by. Then he saw it.
“No!”
He seized a young boy’s arm. The boy wrenched it away.
“Sorry!” Magnus pointed to the building. “Is that…is that The Gilded Lily?”
The boy looked. “Sure is. And you best mind yourself. You grab somebody in there and you’ll get more than a whipping, trust me.”
Magnus stared at The Gilded Lily. It was a horrid building—with warped, unpainted boards falling from its eaves. The windows were all shuttered. The front door didn’t appear to close properly. If it weren’t for the raucous whistles and laughter erupting from inside, Magnus would have sworn the place was abandoned.
“Oh shit!”
His plan had been to pay the owner of The Gilded Lily to let Allyn play for two weeks. Allyn would think he had been hired by the tavern owner; and the tavern owner would get a great musician for free. Everybody would’ve been happy. But now he saw the tavern—
Egad! Allyn would never play there.
That was good, right? Allyn would see the tavern and refuse to step foot in it. He’d never find out about the deception!
Then again…he’d be heartbroken. Allyn spent all of his savings on that blasted lute thinking that he’d earn it back in a few months.
Magnus rubbed his forehead and groaned.
What was he going to do? Why couldn’t anything go as planned?
Somebody said something.
Magnus jumped. “Sorry?”
An enormous man with a thick, muscled neck held open the tavern’s rickety door. For a moment, Magnus recalled the massive shapes coming out of the tents in the fir woods, shouting about their boots being stolen. He tensed to run but decided this man wasn’t one of them.
“I said,” the burly man repeated, “are you coming inside? Or are you afraid of the girls?”
“Girls?”
“Oh, for the love of the gods!” He beckoned Magnus to come with him. “Get in here.”
Reluctantly, Magnus
followed him inside the dimly lit tavern.
The first thing Magnus noticed was that the revolting reek of cows and blood had been suddenly replaced by an even stronger stench of stale beer and fresh urine. It burned his throat. Then he saw the dancing women. They were naked—completely and utterly naked! Magnus quickly forgot about the stench.
A guard holding a morning star stepped forward, but the big man who’d brought Magnus inside said, “He’s with me.”
Magnus blinked at the women dancing. They were naked! He wasn’t dreaming. This wasn’t a figment of his imagination. There were five completely naked women dancing around and bringing drinks to patrons. And the men at the tables and bar didn’t even seem to notice! What kind of place—?
“Make sure he minds himself,” the guard replied. “If he touches one of the girls…”
“I know. I’ll take care of him. On my honor.”
The hulking figure guided Magnus to a table in the far corner.
“Those girls,” Magnus said, unable to take his eyes off a dark-haired woman with exceedingly ample breasts jiggling about. “They’re…they’re naked. All of them.”
The man squinted over his massive shoulder. “So it would seem.” He drew a chair. Magnus sat, his mouth still open as he watched two girls do something he never thought he’d see. “So—what do you have for me?”
Magnus forced himself to face the man sitting next to him. “What?” Almost against his will, he started watching the girls again.
“For heaven—” The man grabbed Magnus’s chair and spun it so Magnus’s back was to the women. “In retrospect, this was a bad place to meet. Too many distractions.”
Magnus fought the urge to look behind him. Several times he failed. “Pardon?”
“Tell me what you know.”
Magnus peeked at a redhead passing their table. “Regarding?”
“Fine.” The man dropped a small pouch into Magnus’s lap. “Tell me everything.”
Shocked, Magnus felt the pouch. There must be twenty coins in there, and judging by the weight, they weren’t bronze or copper.
What the hell?
The man leaned forward, getting close to Magnus’s ear. He growled, “It’s all there, and so help me if you start counting it—”
“What? No. Of course not. I’d…I’d never dream of it.” Magnus hastily put the pouch away. “What did you ask, sir?”
The man’s jaw tightened in frustration. “Is he here? Did you see him?”
Don’t say “who.” Just play along!
“No,” Magnus said. The redhead passed again, but he willed himself not to look at her. “I—I haven’t seen him. I’ve been looking everywhere, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. Frankly, I don’t think anybody has.”
The man relaxed, a smile creeping across his weatherworn face. “Excellent.” He raised a finger. A serving girl came over; she was short with long black hair that swayed as she walked. Magnus tried not to stare at her either.
“A pitcher of something good,” he told her. “And I’ll make it worth your while if it isn’t watered down.”
Magnus stole a glance about the smoky room. There were only three oil lamps burning from the beams overhead, but he could see clearly. The women were naked, actually naked! And there were men around. Lots of men. And most of them weren’t looking at the women at all. They were sitting around, talking. What the—?
“What about Percy?” his host asked.
“What?”
“Are you deaf as well as crippled?”
Magnus realized his deformed hand was visible. He shoved it into his pocket.
“Sir Percy. Is he in town?” The man jabbed a threatening finger at Magnus’s heart. “And you better not ask for any more money. I’ve paid you boys more than you deserve.”
Sir Percy? Magnus had heard that name before. He was one of King Bruce’s men from the West Highlands. Or maybe he was from Westmarsh. He couldn’t recall which. At any rate, he’d certainly heard of him.
Magnus shook his head. “Haven’t seen him either. Not him or the other one. Both are not to be found. Not sure where the hell they are, to tell you the truth.”
“Splendid! Then they are off the scent. Blast them.” He shook a fist in the air. “Finally, a chance at victory!”
The short woman with black hair returned with a brass pitcher that was so dented it must have been hurled against the wall a hundred times. She set two steins on the table, one in front of Magnus.
“Thanks, hon.” The man filled his stein and then tasted the beer. He nodded, creamy foam coating his neatly trimmed mustache. “Ah! Good. Very good.” He handed her a silver piece. Magnus wondered where she’d put it.
The man took another long drink, draining his entire stein.
“They have the best beer here,” he said with a sigh of satisfaction. “But you have to pay for it. Otherwise they bring you the swill.”
“You—?” Magnus slid a glance at the redhead again. She was in the middle of the room, shifting her weight so her hips rocked back and forth as she slowly revolved in a circle, her arms waving above her head like a tree blowing in a seductive breeze. “You come here for the beer?”
“Eh? Them?” He laughed. “Look, boy. There are three things you need to know how to handle before you become a man—women, weapons, and fire. Trust me. Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Oh! Yes, of course!” Magnus folded his arms tightly across his chest. “I didn’t mean anything by—”
“What happened?” The man nodded to Magnus’s left hand as he filled his stein again. “Born that way?”
“This?” Magnus attempted to move the upturned fingers.
As far as he could recall, nobody had ever come out and asked about his arm. Throughout his entire life, people stared, or worse yet, they pretended they didn’t notice—but they never openly mentioned it.
Magnus shrugged. “My father punished me when I was little. He twisted my arm and it never healed right. Least ways, this is how it healed, all shriveled.” He tucked his hand into his pocket.
“The bastard.” The man produced a handful of coins; two of them were gold. “Here.” He slid them across the table to Magnus.
Magnus slid them back, angrily. “I don’t want your damned charity.”
“It’s not charity. From what I hear, you do good work. And I can use all the informants I can get.”
Informants?
The man took another long pull from his stein. He dragged his sleeve across his mouth. “What’s your name again?”
“Name? It’s, uh…Grothrog the Bloodthirsty.”
The big man started, then roared with laughter. “Is it now? Grothrog the Bloodthirsty? That’s rich!” He pounded the table, nearly knocking over the pitcher and steins. “That’s worth a gold at least.” He tossed another gold piece onto the scattered pile of coins. “Grothrog the Bloodthirsty.” He laughed some more. “I’ll remember that.”
The big man drained his stein and hauled himself to his feet, leaving the coins in front of Magnus. “Well, Master Grothrog, if you hear anything about Brago or Percy, you know what to do.”
Brago?
One of the women danced by the table, her breasts bouncing.
“You know what to do if they show up?” the big man repeated, now a question.
“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Magnus said. “Same as always.”
“Good! That’s why I pay you boys.” He dropped more coins onto the considerable pile in front of Magnus. Most were silver, but three were gold. “You can finish the beer, but don’t have too much. You’ll have one less good hand if you touch the girls—and you won’t have your asshole father to blame. You get me?” He prepared to leave. “And give some to the girls. They deserve to eat too.”
“Of course!” Magnus said, flustered. “I’ll—I’ll give it all to them.”
The man looked at him, surprised. “You know, they’re much cheaper on the street.”
Flustered, Magnus giggled.
> The man stood. “I must be off. Enjoy your evening.”
“Enjoy yours,” Magnus replied.
“Grothrog the Bloodthirsty!” the man said as he left. “Brilliant!”
A serving girl sauntered by. Magnus called to her.
“It’s a gold piece,” she said.
“A gold piece? A gold piece for what?” She indicated her naked body, glistening in the flickering lamplight. “Oh! No! No! I didn’t want that. Although, it’d be completely worth it! Believe me.” He was hyperventilating. “I wanted to know…that is, did you see that man? The one who left here, the big one with the dark beard and mustache?”
“The one you were sitting with?”
“Yeah. Exactly. Who is he?”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m from out of town.”
She didn’t appear to believe him. Magnus shoved some of the coins toward her. “For information, not…” He nervously gestured to her body, although he wondered if he was picking the wrong thing to buy.
She took the money. “That was Sir James of Loc Shire.”
“Who’s Sir James of Loc Shire?”
“Why don’t you ask him that and see what happens.” She reached for the nearly empty pitcher of beer, her breasts directly in front of Magnus’s face. “Would you like some more?”
Magnus sat on his hands and squeaked an incoherent reply. Unable to breathe, he shook his head.
“Okay. Let me know if you want anything else.”
She went off to attend to other customers, leaving Magnus by himself in the corner. He took a deep breath.
Who the hell was Sir James of Loc Shire?
Chapter Fifteen
“Where have you been?” Allyn shouted. He was standing on a street corner a few buildings up from The Wayward Inn. Around him, people thought he was yelling at them. They stopped, bewildered. He flung an angry hand at Magnus coming out of an alley. “I’m talking to the short cretin with curly hair.”
Everybody looked at Magnus, then went about their business.
“We’ve been searching everywhere!” Allyn said as Magnus approached. “You were supposed to stay outside the inn. You weren’t getting into trouble, were you?”
“No!” insisted Magnus. Then he added guiltily, “I was checking a few things out.”
