by JG Cully
The other barmaids who happened to be in the kitchen at the time were looking at Alyssa, having had the good sense to stay quiet as Alyssa was both complimented and berated in the same breath. Alyssa was one of the few apparent humans working at the tavern, most of the rest of the staff being either dwarf or elf. So she was doubly isolated in her embarrassment.
Some of them were looking with a certain jealousy, particularly the dwarves (“Gretna never yells at me like that!”), others with shared embarrassment (“Poor Alyssa”) whilst a few, predominantly the elves, were trying to check whether the dwarf's statement was actually true (“Well...she does have a great body.”)
Alyssa, cheeks still burning, found herself backing into the wall and hugging her chest, one hand self-consciously pushing her glasses up.
“Gretna's right.” said Sarah, one of the tall skinny elfen barmaids from southern Argon, breaking the silence in the room. The audience as a whole immediately shifted their view to Sarah with collective eyebrows raised.
“Ah, not that I've been looking!” babbled Sarah, who all of a sudden found the board of vegetables needing chopped particularly fascinating.
This interruption allowed Alyssa to slip out and into the relative safety of the dining area itself by the same door Gretna had stormed through moments ago.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
The Elk's Horn had an extensive dining area, with long tables for larger parties dotted about everywhere, with attendant benches or chairs sitting by, as well as cosy smaller tables. It had rustic varnished wooden floorboards and thick stylish wooden pillars stretching to the ceiling. Chandeliers of blackened metal provided candlelight to the whole area.
It was cheery.
Customers sat, ate, drank and talked all around the floor in little groups. There was a good variety in tonight. Couples on dates, mostly elfin, enjoying quieter drinks in the secluded corners. Groups of human and dwarf workmen slumped by the larger benches drinking away a hard day's labour. Other groups of out of work men and women of many races were located separate from the workers, casting jealous looks at those with the money to afford more drink.
She found only she and Gretna were out on the floor at this stage and not wanting another berating in front of the customers, she immediately started doing her rounds, taking orders for drinks.
She was sure that nothing worse could happen to her here.
* * * * *
“I'm hungry.” grumbled Malak.
Victoria and Malak were back in the coach for the third time that day, headed back in the late evening to leave in their report. Neither of them had eaten all day, having spent most of it travelling and talking.
The trail had run cold.
The two Militia men who had found the body had confirmed what they already knew. Lack of blood in the body, highly unusual, but no evidence of foul play. Just a very strange death. The only plus side was that the spiked railings were to be designated as dangerous and removed with all haste in case someone else ended up dead on them.
In fact by the time they had got to the Militia post, that was the main focus of the story, lack of blood having become nothing but an afterthought. The young new guy was indeed now marked for promotion. Good for him, bad for them. They'd now nothing else to go on.
Speaking with the Death Warden and the mages of the Militia had yielded nothing in addition to what they had learnt from the Corpse Warden. Even a trip to the scene of the 'accident' (now the incidents official designation as far as the Militia were concerned) had yielded no additional clues, except to confirm that yes, those railings were dangerous. They would just have to complete their report and it pass on as 'inconclusive'.
A marking that Victoria never took lightly. It smelt faintly of failure.
“Aren't you?” Malak asked Victoria, frowning at her.
“Hungry?” Victoria shrugged, broken out of her contemplations. “Not really.”
“Balls!” scoffed Malak with palpable disbelief. “I bet you never even had a proper breakfast did you?”
Well actually she hadn't. Maybe she was a bit hungry but there was no way she was going to admit that to him. Food could wait until after the report was done. She wanted that out of the way first of all even if it was getting late at night now.
“I'll be fine,” she said sternly, casting him her not-another-word look.
Unfortunately it was at that moment that her stomach decided to rather vocally disagree with her, emitting a hungry sounding grumble.
It made Victoria flinch sharply, her mask of discipline slipping for a second. A rather superior smirk broke out over Malak's face.
“Your gut says otherwise,” he said with a certain triumph.
Victoria sighed; this was going to interrupt things.
“Fine.” She folded her arms with the resignation of a disgruntled woman. “Where do you want to go?”
“Hanged Man?” he said with what sounded like a certain amount of hope.
The hell with that, thought Victoria.
“I'm hungry, but not desperate. Not to mention that's a bit far to travel" she said, hoping her guts didn't disagree again. Thankfully they didn't. “We can afford to go to a tavern, not a hole in the ground.”
“Fine, what about the Broken Dreams, it's closer?”
“They don't serve food. They say it's food, but really it isn't.”
Malak rolled his eyes. “Well there must be...wait.”
He banged the inside front board of the coach with his fist. “Hold up Harcan!” he shouted. Harcan, the driver, brought the coach shuddering to a halt. Malak duly pointed out the coach window to across the street.
“What about that place?”
Sure enough, across from where they had stopped was a tavern. It was a large one, with clean shuttered windows set in walls of modern red brick. It looked expensive but seemed to be popular enough judging from the movement of the shadows behind the well lit windows.
She nodded. “Alright then, looks promising.”
They had the coachman bring them round the front to drop them off. They were not too far from work so Victoria bid Harcan return there. They would walk back later.
Victoria wrapped her brown all-weather cloak around her, the night was still biting cold and she beheld the sign that hung from the tavern’s entrance. It seemed this place even had its own motto. “The Elk’s Horn.” Read the sign. “Always fine food and fine company.”
Heck with it, maybe she was hungry after all.
* * * * *
Alyssa cleared the elf couple’s plates, smiling sweetly and being rewarded with a nod from both of them. She liked elves. They were always so polite and seemed to treat her with a certain respect. She didn't know whether that was the effect her aura had on them or whether they just liked her. A pity that most elves seemed to have a strict code as to who they could and could not court. In other words, no inter-race courting. You got the occasional rebel, obviously, but they were few and far between.
Then again she'd not have to worry about that now would she? James had yet to arrive but she wasn't worried. Not yet. He'd be here, she was sure of that.
It was late on now, with not so many customers about. It was halfway through the week, after all, and few enough could afford drinks during the week. Nonetheless there were still a few about. Gretna was just then seeing to a couple of newcomers. One was a woman, just in the process of hanging up a cloak. She was dressed in leggings and a tunic with a sword and pistol at her hip.
Probably a mercenary, Alyssa guessed.
The other, a man, was definitely a mercenary or soldier of some sort. He was wearing leather plate armour and was festooned with weapons, right down to a nasty looking crossbow he had slung over his shoulder. They seemed to be ordering food.
Wonder who they are?
It was but a passing thought, however, for just at that moment a troupe of the regulars arrived. They were a squad of dwarfish miners, dusty tunics thick with dirt and with pick-axes slung over their
shoulders. They were just taking their usual spot in the corner. Likewise two orc Tax Reapers were just then sitting down at another table, black clad with marks of coin on their tabards and thick identical scimitars in scabbards slung across their backs.
A lot of weapon carriers in tonight.
She chose, rather tactfully, to approach the Dwarves for their orders first of all.
Whilst all dwarves possessed the same directness that Gretna did (“yey be a fine looking lass and no mistake. Some Manling will count himself lucky the first time he snugs yeh!”) it was better them than the orcs. Orcs tended to have rather 'busy' hands, coupled with high pain thresholds. Slapping them just didn't work.
Fortunately all the miners seemed to be too exhausted to pass any comments designed to make Alyssa blush so she was able to take their orders without incident. She was back at the bar-top just as Gretna arrived.
“Order for table four” Gretna said to Rodney, the lumbering orc barman with the tiny black eyes, enormous jaw and unexplained cooking skills. Unexplained for an orc anyway. He screwed up his huge face, studying the slip of paper Gretna had reached across to him. The common Argon tongue was something he had difficulty translating.
“And the two orcs at table three want a couple of Gorrag's Draft.” Gretna said next, addressing Alyssa.
Alyssa shuffled nervously, adjusting her glasses. “Do I...”
“Have to? Yes.” Gretna said, interrupting her taller but younger colleague. “Besides, you're the quickest at dodging and they tend to complain when they get a hammer to the face.”
She patted her sheathed hammer with a smirk.
Alyssa nodded, without confidence, and moved round the bar, grabbing a couple of mugs and pouring the drinks from the Gorrag's barrel. She headed over to the orcs, leaving Rodney still translating Gretna's slip of paper and Gretna rolling her eyes, no doubt regretting forcing Rodney to read the order instead of just telling him.
Alyssa arrived at table three and immediately dodged a grab for her bottom from one of the orcs, rather expertly she thought as she managed to not even wobble the two mugs of the brown fluffy liquid she was carrying (a major achievement considering her clumsy reputation).
“Damn” grunted the offending orc.
“Told ya she was quick!” grinned his companion, paying for the two drinks.
“Glad to see you ordering a decent meal,” the male mercenary at the other table was saying.
He wasn't talking loudly but Alyssa could hear him perfectly. It wasn't just her sight that had improved when she became a vampire but her hearing too. She found that one of the other nearby tables needed a wipe down and immediately set to work, almost automatically shifting her bottom to avoid another grab from the same orc.
“Damn it all!” he grunted again, making Alyssa smile.
“Well maybe this case has given me more of an appetite than I thought,” the woman replied. Out of the corner of her eye Alyssa saw the woman lean forward. At first she thought she was going to kiss the man (how cute!) but instead she just spoke in a hushed voice.
“Hunting vampires is hungry work.”
Alyssa, froze, solid as ice. Her eyes widened.
Oh sweet Sister Superior.
She slowly, very slowly, continued to wipe the table down, trying not to appear to be listening in. She was thankful that whilst she could blush and cry, her ability to sweat was mercifully no more, else right now she would be literally soaked. Still, she was having a hard time stopping her body from trembling. She fixed her glasses again, finding her hand shaking.
Out of the corner of her eye Alyssa could see the man shaking his head.
“There's no vampire.” he was saying, his answer a whisper again. “That fat sod died of falling onto a spike. The wounds and loss of blood? There is bound to be a proper explanation. I told you. This is no job for the Council of Peace.”
The two of them leaned back, just in time for Gretna to rejoin them.
“Food will be along soon enough. Now, drinks?”
With Gretna and the two strangers distracted, Alyssa moved away. She had to fight to prevent her legs from running. She went through the kitchen door, almost bumping into one of the other girls (there was the trademark clumsiness!).
“Sorry!” she hurriedly apologised, quickly ducking out the back door before anyone could turn to see what was going on.
Outside, in the dark, she turned a corner and backed into a wall. Only then did she start hyper ventilating. Again, she didn't actually need to hyper ventilate as her body didn't need to breathe but she could do the actions. Breathing hurriedly, clutching her chest. Eyes wide with fright, body trembling. She was trying to fix her glasses in place again but she was making a bad job of it. She wasn't doing any of these actions to fit in. She was just terrified.
Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Oh Gods! her mind repeated over and over. They know! Why else would they be here?
No no hold on a sec, the more rational part of her mind was saying, trying to assert some control. Let's just think about this.
WHY? The rest of her mind screamed. They said they were hunting vampires! And guess who's a vampire who works at the tavern they've just arrived at? ME! That's who!
Alyssa covered her face with her hands, feeling tears forming. I don't want to die! Again.
But wait. I didn't kill the fat man.
Alyssa stopped. Her hands dropped from her face a little. The rational part of her brain took that as a good sign and continued.
They said he died of falling on a spike. Well, I didn't do that. I left him unconscious on the ground.
That was true too. Alyssa's hands moved from her eyes to her mouth. She started to calm down just a little as her mind got the time it had requested to think things through.
Wait a second! Did that mean...There was another vampire out there? Her composure changed from worried to, well, a different kind of worried.
Another vampire. After all this time?
That still didn't explain why they were here. It couldn't just be chance. Could someone have seen something? Could they have seen her? Either way, she had to clear her name out of the possibilities somehow. Make them believe that the murderer wasn't her. Thing is, that would mean admitting she was a vampire. Which just put her in more trouble. Damn. Maybe there was a way to clear her name but not admit to being a vampire?
“Alyssa?” said a voice.
Alyssa yelped, jumping back into the wall in fright, almost knocking her badly positioned glasses off her nose. Katy was standing nearby in a hooded cloak, looking over at Alyssa with the most curious of expressions. She'd pulled the cloaks hood down, revealing that she had her hair pulled up into braided pigtails tied by pink ribbons. If Alyssa had been in a better mental state she might have commented on how cute Katy appeared.
Why does that keep happening? Vampires shouldn't get surprised by people at night!
“Gods Katy, you scared me!” breathed Alyssa (another good impression), now properly fixing her glasses to the right angle.
“Sorry.” Katy smiled apologetically. “You ok?”
Alyssa looked over and the nucleus of a plan formed.
Katy can help!
“Actually no,” she admitted. “but you might be able to make things better.”
She beckoned Katy over and, with the greatest of care, told her what she had overheard. She indicated her thoughts that the fat man the two Council of Peace people were referring to could be the same one she and Katy had encountered. She didn't say she was a vampire (of course) but she did say that she was concerned they might mistake her for one unless she cleared her name. Just a small deception.
“So I'm really worried” she said afterwards, with genuine truth (the best kind).
Katy, bless her little heart, seemed to understand totally.
“I'll help you Alyssa.” she said, a wonderfully loyal determination in her voice.
It was Alyssa's turn to hug Katy. They agreed to wait until the two visitors had gotten their food and w
ere relaxed. Then they would approach them together. Meantime, Alyssa was determined that Katy was going to start work at the Elk Horn that very night. As long as she could talk Gretna into it.
“There you are!” came a voice behind them. Gretna was at the open door, her hands on her hips again, her frown deepening. “Why did you skip off, huh?”
Alyssa decided that maybe having Gretna on her side was a good idea too, and it was a good excuse to introduce Katy. She quickly outlined what had happened to Gretna as well, also indicating how Katy the barmaid was helping (“She's very helpful. And a very good Barmaid as well! Who's looking for employment don't you know?”). She was particularly proud of the fact that her explanation required the minimum of lying to her new best friend and current employer.
“You? A vampire!” Gretna chuckled once the story was done. “Girl you're far too young!”
Alyssa opened her mouth to correct Gretna and then very sensibly closed it again.
“But then again the Council of Peace are bloody stupid.” Gretna nodded forcefully at her own assessment. “And I'm not having my prized barmaid carted off or killed heavens forbid! We'll set them straight!”
As it happened, Gretna had her own particular addition to the plan to ensure Alyssa's innocence was accepted. She quickly outlined it to the two of them and the three of them slipped back inside to set to work.
* * * * *
“That...” began Malak, looking at the plate that the orc barman had just set in front of Victoria.
“...is one hell of a steak.”
Victoria was forced to agree. It was a very big steak; far bigger than she had expected.
“Is this right?” she said tentatively, looking up at the towering orc with a raised eyebrow. “I think I ordered the medium sized steak.”
And this is definitely not a medium sized steak.
The orc shrugged his huge shoulders. “That's what i's was given.” he said, forming the words slowly. “The miss said 'get the good stuff for them you great oaf and stop looking down my top'. Said that we ought to reward them whose serves the Council of Peace for their fine work in keeping the peace, cause we is dead grateful.”
