by Rob Donovan
Norva groaned and was pleased to see a glass of water had been placed by her bed. Her mouth tasted like sand and the water felt better than any of the numerous rums she had guzzled earlier. The thought of the rum turned her stomach. She whipped the covers off and hopped out of bed. From far below outbursts of laughter and singing could be heard. The Inn had obviously filled with the evening customers. She was about to descend the stairs when the noise from below magnified and light flooded part of the room.
Norva heard footsteps and then the outline of a shadow on the wall by the stairs. She reached for the largest of her sisters and readied the blade. The smell of roast meat made her sheathe the blade before the innkeeper appeared on the stairs. He carried a tray of food which made Norva’s stomach rumble and churn at the same time.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Lousy and more than a little embarrassed,” Norva replied and offered a sheepish grin. The innkeeper laughed and set the tray down at the base of the bed. He pulled a chair over and gestured for the Ghost Assassin to sit. He was nowhere near as handsome as she recalled. His cheeks were sallow and his eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. He was painfully thin and the silver hair was more of a dull grey. Still he had a kind face and he had looked after Norva.
“I’ve been an innkeeper for over twenty summers, eleven of them here but the rest in some of the worst places in Frindoth. In all that time, I have never seen someone attack alcohol the way you did this morning. “What was the occasion?”
Norva shrugged as she cut the meat and tentatively tried a small morsel. It tasted fantastic and she decided she wanted it even if her stomach was going to protest.
“No occasion really. To forget or to remember. I am not really sure which. Just fancied getting drunk.”
The innkeeper scratched the peppering of stubble on his chin. “I’ve heard worse reasons.”
“I find the reason doesn’t really matter. The end result is usually the same. We all finish face down in a pool of vomit.”
“That’s true.”
“Did I kill anyone?”
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile forming. “No, you didn’t kill anyone. But I might be able to help you.”
“Help me how?”
The innkeeper pulled out another chair from beside the wardrobe. He unfolded it and then waited for Norva to give him permission to sit down. She shrugged and continued to eat.
“You mentioned a young girl and the word “Blackthorn.”
Norva paused as she raised a fork to her mouth. “I did?”
“Yep, right before your sixth rum.”
“What did I say?” She carried on eating and cursed her hesitancy. She had reacted at the words and was annoyed at her transparency.
“You mentioned you were looking for a girl called Scamp, whom you had rescued, only to have been captured by “bastard Yurisdorian scum. Oh, don’t worry,” the innkeeper said upon seeing the mortified look on Norva’s face, “there is no love for the enemy here. Although I do advise you to be more careful with your tongue in future. At the very least go easier on the booze.”
Norva nodded like a chastised child. What had she been thinking? She had never been so reckless before. She had most likely compromised whatever progress she had made in looking for Scamp all because she had felt sorry for herself and her lack of progress and decided to have a drink.
“Who overheard?”
“Miss when I carried you to bed I found four daggers on you. The people that might have overheard were some of my most loyal patrons. I will not betray them by telling you who they were. I don’t know you well enough to trust you yet and I have a suspicion you would think nothing of ending their lives if it meant your personal mission would succeed. “
Norva pushed the empty plate away and stifled a belch. “Once maybe. Not anymore.”
“That’s what I thought. I wouldn’t worry too much though, you were hardly making any sense. Most of what you said was in this room after I carried you upstairs. You said you had been captured at Prafton and this Scamp had been taken from you before you were imprisoned at Halbert.”
Norva felt the contents of her dinner swill inside her stomach as panic engulfed her. If she had been talking about Halbert has she mentioned the Queen? She grabbed hold of the innkeeper’s arm and did not care when his eyes widened in alarm and he winced in pain.
“What else did I say?”
“Nothing that I need to repeat,” the innkeeper said and squirmed to release his arm. Norva only squeezed harder, his arm felt paper thin as if she held his bone and nothing more.
“What else?”
“Please, it was nothing that needs to be discussed. It will go no further.”
Norva reached into her tunic slowly and pulled out the hilt of her dagger. “I will not ask you again. What else did I say?”
The innkeeper stared at the dagger and his face drained of all colour. A thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead and he stopped struggling. “You said that I was the most handsome man you had ever seen and my hair reminded you of an icicle. You then lifted up your top and asked me if I liked your tits.” She sensed Clarabelle stir in the distance, alerted by the sudden sense of danger.
Norva almost burst out laughing in relief.
"I didn't want to embarrass you," the innkeeper said. This time the Ghost Assassin was unable to prevent the laughter which escaped her lips.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, I just couldn't see how you could turn me down that's all. I was obviously the most attractive proposition you've ever received."
The innkeeper smiled. "I don't get many propositions these days. I was almost tempted if I'm honest."
Norva was not sure whether to be flattered by this or a little creeped out. "You said that you wanted to talk to me, that you might be able to help me?"
"Yes, I believe I have some information for you, but I would like you to answer a few of my questions first if that is agreeable?"
Norva thought about showing him her dagger again. She could easily extract any information she wanted from this man but somehow, after all he had done for her it didn't feel right to intimidate him. "Ask away," she said.
The Innkeeper sat back down in the chair and took a moment to wipe Norva's plate clean with a dishcloth. "You said that when the soldiers took you they also took the young girl?"
"That is correct."
"How comes you're over here in Boscalt looking for her?"
"Let's just say I had some new information. I managed to persuade Vashna to talk to me. He confirmed he never took the girl to his home as a prisoner."
"You managed to persuade Vashna?" said the innkeeper incredulous.
"Let’s just say he came to see things from my point of view. He gave the girl to his master who led her here."
"Do you trust what Vashna had to say?"
Norva sighed. "I have come to believe he's not such a bad man."
The innkeeper pulled a face but Norva felt no need to elaborate. She was not sure she could say anything to change the innkeeper's mind. Weeks ago, if someone had tried to tell her that Vashna was a decent man she would not have remotely believed them. The truth was the Warlord had been less than willing to see the Ghost Assassin leave his camp. He believed that she should be there for the meeting with the Prince. Norva had explained that she had waited too long without going after Scamp. She was also quick to point out that the Warlord owed her.
The only anchor she had to the camp was leaving the Queen, but when she looked at the way Stasiak (she could not get use to calling him Stasiak’s) was with his mother, she was assured the Queen was in safe hands. Before she left, Vashna had told her that Cordane wanted Scamp to be delivered to him. Vashna did not know why and he did not ask. His wife Breshanel had made a disapproving noise at this. Apparently, she had not been impressed with the Warlord's lack of questioning of his master's motives. Vashna had the humility to look embarrassed. It was this more than anything that
convinced the Warlord to let Norva leave. She did not need to point out that she could probably have left at any point if she chose to. She thought Vashna probably knew that too and so she let him have his moment.
The Ghost Assassin had followed the trail to Boscalt for three days. She arrived in the city but had found no sign of Scamp. It appeared the young girl had vanished off the face of Frindoth. Two merchants could recall soldiers bringing in a young girl who matched Scamp's description. Both did not think anything of the situation. The girl was not in chains and appeared to be accompanying the soldiers quite willingly. Norva had dismissed these reports. There was no way the Scamp she knew would go along with the soldiers by choice. The merchants must have been talking about someone else. After wasting a second day in the city Norva had despaired and it was then she had decided to get drunk.
"You mentioned Blackthorn?"
Norva nodded. "It is a name I have come across during my search. Have you heard of it?"
"Once, many moons ago. I overheard a man and a woman speak of it. I remember it because they were very guarded and stopped speaking anytime someone came near."
Norva leaned forward. "This was in your inn?"
"No," the innkeeper said. Several wolf whistles came from the bar below. There was a loud thud followed by laughter. "They met in the alley behind the tavern. I stumbled upon them by chance. It was the middle of the night and it was shortly after my wife had passed away. I struggled to get to sleep in those days. I struggled to do much in truth. She was everything to me and the inn was her idea. I was a fat husband who worshipped her but when she died I lost my appetite for most things. I lay awake in the middle of the night thinking about my wife, thinking about the sorry state of disrepair the inn had fallen into and thinking about what I had let myself become. I thought of those things and realised I did not care. Then I thought if I did not care why was I even bothering to carry on? I was just wasting other people's time. When my patrons looked at me it was with pity. I was only making them sad by being around them. Many had already left because the place had become so disgusting and all I did was remind them of how awful life could be.
On a whim, I decided I did not want to carry on anymore. I climbed out of that very window and onto the roof. I stood on the edge for about an hour summoning the courage to jump. I don't know what stopped me. I recall the red moon was the only moon visible so if ever there was a sign that I should have jumped that was it. That's if you believe in that kind of thing."
The innkeeper paused as if he expected Norva to respond. She remained silent and waited for him to continue.
"Eventually I heard hushed whispers. Pleased of the distraction and damn curious I concealed myself and moved closer. There were two figures skulking in the alley and speaking in harsh whispers. They were obviously disagreeing about something. One was a man, he had long hair but most of his face was obscured by a hood, the other was an old lady. She leaned on a stick as if it was holding her up. They spoke of the Blackthorn initiative but I could not make out what they said. They mentioned eight had been invested in and that should be enough. The woman wanted to implement whatever plan they had sooner rather than later. The man disagreed and said patience would see the greater reward. He mentioned that they wait until the Ritual."
Norva gasped. "How long ago was this?"
"About four years ago."
"And you told know one about it?"
"The innkeeper shrugged. "Who was I going to tell? I was a laughing stock at that point. People took very little notice of me. Even if I decided to speak up whom would I have told? The city guards? They hear crap stories all the time from the deranged beggars in the City. They would have thought I was just another one of them."
"But you heard them mention the Ritual of the Stones. Anything regarding the Ritual should always be brought to the attention of the King or the Order."
The innkeeper began to wipe the plate again, even though it looked clean to Norva. "What had I heard really? I didn't hear anything about the Ritual being sabotaged. I just heard it referenced as a period of time."
Norva scoffed, "Oh come on, you heard the man say that they needed to wait until the Ritual. What did you think that meant? Obviously, they planned something." The innkeeper shook his head in denial but it was clear he knew the Ghost Assassin was right. "What about after the events of the Ritual of the Stones, did you not think it was worth mentioning what you had seen to the King then?"
"And say what?" This time it was the innkeeper that let out a short bark of laughter. "Excuse me your highness but four years ago, I saw two shadowy figures in an alley and they mentioned the Ritual of the Stones and waiting until then to put in place some scheme that I knew nothing about?"
Norva stood up and began pacing the room. The innkeeper had a point. He really couldn't have said anything and if he did what could he have said? Nothing that would have been believed at least. Norva was not even sure what he had told her was of any use. The word Blackthorn had cropped up again, this time in relation to the Ritual of the Stones but it still did not give her any information about Scamp. She suddenly stopped pacing. "Wait a minute, you said that the two figures stopped talking when others were in earshot. Were their others around at that time of night?"
"I haven't yet got to the part that might be of use to you."
Norva sat back down and folded her arms just to do something with them. Her head still pounded but her pulse quickened as the innkeeper moved closer and dropped his voice. He obviously relished the intrigue.
"The two stranger’s conversation continued to the early hours. By that time the merchants and shopkeepers had begun to fill the streets. Both the man and old woman moved deeper into the alley to move away from people and I noticed they stopped talking all together. I wanted to go back into my room and go to the lower floors so I could hear their conversation more clearly through one of the lower windows but something about the man scared me. I was too frightened of moving in case they detected me. It was ironic really, I had gone to the roof to jump off and when I got there I was afraid this man would see me and take my life.
The two finished their conversation and I managed to hear their parting words. The old woman mentioned the red moon and how it was an auspicious sign. The man placed a hand on her shoulder and said that he had faith in her and if the old woman did her job then the purge would happen."
"The purge?" Norva said.
"It meant nothing to me either. Not until a few weeks ago when a group of about twenty people entered the inn and ordered lunch. I asked if they wanted rooms, dreading the answer. I like the coin but I do not like a busy inn. It is just me most of the time with the occasional help from my sons and that is the way I like it. The people declined and said they were just passing through to Shangon. When I mentioned how dangerous these times were for travelling and mentioned the Glooms roaming they laughed at me. They said it depends on your perspective and whether or not you feared the Glooms. I said I certainly did and they said I should join them in that case. The purge was coming and they were off to join the Children of the Moon where they would be safe from what was about to happen. I declined. I knew I had heard the term' 'purge' before. It had been bugging me these past few weeks and it is not until you came in this morning and mentioned 'Blackthorn' that it triggered the memory.
Norva stared out the window at the lime moon, studying the dark smudges which spoilt the surface. The bards said the blemishes on the moon were mountains, Norva was not sure. Why couldn't they be mud? Just because the moons were predominantly one colour it did not mean everything on them was that colour. That was just stupid to think.
"I've never heard of the Children of the Moon."
"Nor have I, but it might be a starting point."
Norva stood and thrust out her hand. "I do not even know your name."
The innkeeper stood and smiled. He took her hand and shook it. It was as bony as his arm had been. "Rupert, Rupert Wilgorn."
"I am most grateful for yo
ur kindness Rupert but I must be on my way."
"Of course, I wish you luck and make the politest suggestion to lay off the drink."
Norva laughed and promised she would. They descended the stairs and Rupert led her to another stairwell which led out into the street.
"What made you change your mind?"
"About what?" Rupert asked frowning. The sounds of a lute began in the main bar behind them. The first few notes were greeted with a cheer and soon the sounds and merriment and drunken singing filled the night.
"Not jumping."
"Oh," Rupert said and gave a sheepish grin. "The strangers moved away and someone began thumping on the main door and shouting they wanted breakfast. I thought I better let them in."
Norva laughed, gave the innkeeper the lightest of hugs and left him. She walked the length of the alley, turned into the main street and continued about two hundred yards. When she was sure she was no longer being watched she turned down the next turning, climbed the first building until she reached the roof. Keeping low she traversed the roof tops until she had returned to the inn. Rupert stood in the alley and whispered instructions in a boy's ear. The boy nodded and then accepted several coins from the innkeeper before running away. Rupert watched him leave and then returned to the inn whistling.
"Just as I thought," Norva said.
Chapter 8
The curly golden locks littered the floor, a small breeze causing them to scatter and roll over and over. Althalos looked at himself in the mirror and then down at his hair on the floor. He scratched his scalp that caused more hair to fall to the floor. His fingers trembled as he wiped his hand against his tunic and then blew on it. He took another sip of the wine, it was almost gone. He thought about topping it up and then thought better of it. Half a cup was more than he needed.
"I should never have cut it," He said looking at himself again. The hair did not even touch his shoulders; it was the shortest he had had it for years. Behind him Shana let out a small giggle. She stood behind him and on tip-toes brushed hair from his shoulders.
