“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?” Marcus yelled at them.
“Teaching this elf-lover a lesson is what,” a bald fellow yelled back.
“And this lesson is what? That he needs more seafood on the menu?” Marcus asked.
“Technically… it’s probably from the lake,” I said. Marcus gave me a look that said “Shut your fool mouth.”
“Teach him that this part of the world is for humans, see. And that other types are here at our mercy. He seems to be a bit confused about how things are, so we thought we would enlighten him,” the bald man said.
“These arseholes are bitter about being kicked out of my tavern for being arseholes,” the tavern keeper said.
“Well, they certainly are that,” Marcus said. “And what in the hells does rotten fish have to do with all this?” One of the men picked up a large fish and got ready to throw it through the open window in front of him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Marcus said.
The man laughed, and threw the fish. Marcus leapt up, grabbed it out of the air by its tail, and before the man could register what was happening, smashed him in the face with the fish. The man fell into the foul smelling cart. The other men stood for a moment, looking at their friend in the cart. Marcus tossed the fish in after the man, startling them.
“Now, I suggest you fellows get in there and clean the place up,” Marcus said. “Oh, and you will be paying our bill. You ruined some very nice bread, and I think some of your fish landed in my ale.”
Two of the men charged at Marcus. The leading man had his fist pulled back. Marcus stepped to the left of him, putting the man off balance as he tried to punch at Marcus. Marcus grabbed his wrist and used the man’s outstretched arm and momentum to swing him around, and let go of him to connect with the second man. Both went sprawling onto the pavement. The remaining three men looked at each other, then took flight down the street, the bald one pushing the cart. The first man was peering over the side of the cart, bits of fish stuck in his hair.
Marcus yelled after them, “Don’t let me see you round here again!”
The tavern keeper and I looked at each other. Marcus grabbed the two remaining men by their ankles and dragged them into the tavern kicking and screaming.
“What are you doing?” the tavern keeper asked.
“These two are going to clean the place up,” Marcus said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Something Fishy
The two men cleaned up the mess they made with Marcus standing over them. He casually rested a hand on his pommel and made it clear that any funny business would have serious consequences. It took them some time. After they cleaned up their misplaced fish, they were made to mop the floor with a mixture of cleaning fluids, hot water and lime juice. They applied the same to the tables.
When they were finished, Marcus held an open hand to them. They looked at it, confused. “As I said, you will be covering our meal and drinks.” Marcus looked at the tavern keeper. “How much do we owe you?”
“Fifteen coppers.”
“Pay the man,” Marcus said. They searched their pockets and came up with twelve coppers between them. Marcus took the coins, passed them to the tavern keeper, and then proceeded to embrace both the men. The men had their backs turned to me, and while embracing them, Marcus pointed at the tattoos on their necks. The clenched fist again.
“Now, I am sure you learned your lesson, right?” Marcus asked. They looked startled, but nodded. “Good. Then off with you.” They made their way out of the tavern, tripping over themselves to get out.
The tavern keeper walked to Marcus and clasped his hand. “Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to me. My name is Hobart, by the way.”
“Not a problem, Hobart. My name is Marcus, and this is Saul.”
“Sit down, I’ll get you some more ale. It’s on the house.” He poured two more tankards and set them on our table.
“What was that business with the men about?” I asked.
“Idiots. Racist idiots at that. They were here last week to talk about buying some casks of ale. They run a gambling den on the outskirts of town. Some very unpleasant people there. They have these fierce little reptiles. They starve them, then throw them into a pit with some meat and bet on which will be alive at the end. Savages. The worst part is that they are running it out of the old temple of Eriel.”
“What?” I asked. “I thought the empire got rid of all the temples?”
“They did. It’s been empty for a decade, apart from those savages at least. They even emptied the baptismal pool at the center to use as the fighting pit. Those arseholes have turned it into an altar to Svyn,” Hobart spat. I did not much care for the manner in which he addressed my god, but seeing as those who followed him tended to be less than reputable people, I let it slide. “Anyway, they were trying to get some ale for that place. I don’t like dealing with them, so I told them that I didn’t have any for them. So, they went to that table over there…”— Hobart pointed at a table close to the door—“and they started harassing the elf that runs the inn across the road.” Marcus and I looked at each other, smiling. “They were really ripping into the poor guy, trying to get him to hand over some of the casks he had. So, with the help of a couple of patrons, I threw them out and banned them from coming back. I was afraid it might cause some trouble, and it seems I was right. They are part of some gang called the Clenched Fist.”
I looked over at Marcus, and could see him grinding his teeth. “Did you tell warden Adair?” I asked.
“Of course I did. Fat lot of good that did me. That operation of theirs is not entirely legal. They hand the mayor some money to stay quiet, and he has Adair on a leash. If only my sons were still around the place, I would feel safer. But the lads are in Morwynne, working for my father-in-law,” Hobart said, shaking his head.
“And you don’t like the man?” Marcus asked.
“Oh, he’s fine, I suppose. He’s always disapproved of our marriage, though. I wasn’t half noble enough for his liking. They are very well-off. I guess he offered me a job recently, so I suppose he doesn’t hate me. But, I turned him down, so now my wife does.” Hobart sighed.
“She doesn’t like this place?” I asked, gesturing at the tavern.
“She used to. But with taxes being what they are these days, it doesn’t leave much money for luxuries. And she is used to her luxuries. I think she’s homesick more than anything.”
“Have you thought about selling the place?” I asked.
“What’s there to sell? A few tables? Some copper brewing kettles? I would be walking away with nothing to show for my years of work.”
“You don’t own the building?” I asked.
Hobart looked surprised. “You from outside the empire or something? No one owns any land or buildings here, my friend. Our dear emperor Solas owns everything. We just pay rent, and additional taxes for the privilege of running a business.”
Our conversation was interrupted by Hobart’s wife, arriving with the pie. “I’ll leave you two to eat in peace. Thanks again,” Hobart said, and got up to leave with his wife.
“Before you go,” Marcus said, “You mentioned the elf with the inn. Is his name Elijah, by any chance?”
“That’s him, yes; he runs the Shady Oak. You know him?”
“We’ve met before. I think we’ll inquire about a room—we understand his inn is decent.”
“Best in town. Say, if you are going over there after this, mind taking a cask of ale with you? I was meaning to deliver it before lunch, but things got a little… fishy.”
We stepped out of the tavern and into the rain. “I hate winter,” I said as Marcus helped me carry the cask down the steps.
“Oh, it’s not so bad. At least you only have to walk across the road,” Marcus said.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“To stop by the docks before it gets dark,” Marcus said. “I know, I said we’d leave it till tomorrow, but I want
to get on with it.”
“You’ll look suspicious,” I said.
“No, there is a big noticeboard right in front of the docks. It’s used to pin up job vacancies and such. It’s not far—I’ll be back shortly. Get us a nice room.” Marcus turned and walked down the road. He was smiling, and his pace made it seem as if he did not even notice the rain. I resented Marcus’s perpetually cheerful demeanor. He was like a puppy.
I pulled my hood closed, took hold of the cask cart, and made my way across the street. I slammed the doors open by backing into them, pulling the cask in behind me. I was hit by a wave of warmth. Those dining at the inn must have felt the opposite, as when I turned around, most of the faces were turned to me. None seemed pleased.
“No-no-no!” Elijah said, storming out from behind the counter. “We have a service entrance for a reason.”
I pulled back my hood and brushed the rain from my face. “Sorry. Hobart asked me to bring this over,” I said, tapping the side of the cask.
“I thought you were him, my apologies. I am glad to see you again, traveler. Where is that large friend of yours?”
“Employment board. He’ll be over shortly.”
Elijah had a humorless smile. “I doubt he’ll find much there. A lot of people are without jobs in this town. Taxes…” he said, shaking his head. “How can I help you today? We have a table free if you need a warm meal.”
“Just ate,” I said. “I’m actually after a room.”
“You’re in luck, some guests just departed this morning. It’s being cleaned at the moment—mind waiting a while?”
“No problem, I was going to wait for Marcus anyway,” I said. “I might have an ale while I wait. Do you have any of Hobart’s?”
“Only the one cask you have in front of you, and that needs to sit for a few more days. Actually, do you mind carting it down that corridor to the cellar door? It’s the one on the left,” Elijah said, pointing down an unlit corridor.
Two patrons approached the counter to pay for their meal. I nodded at Elijah and wheeled the cask away. An odd humming came from the corridor, getting louder with each step. The cellar door was locked, but there was a slight vibration in the door handle, and a flickering light leaked from beneath it. I tried the door again.
“No, stop! Just leave the cask where it is,” Elijah yelled as he rushed down the corridor. “I’ll take it down later.” He was practically shoving me back up the corridor. “Get yourself an ale while you wait. It’s on the house.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but I let myself be guided out. Elijah walked up to the bar and spoke to the man behind it, gesturing at me. He returned and told me I could have whatever drink I wanted, then went to greet more customers. When I spoke to the barman, I discovered that the selection of liquid refreshments were limited. The man strongly advised against the wine as few drank it in Sagemont, and mentioned words like “vinegar” and “removes paint.” I did not know what most of the other drinks on offer were, so I settled on the only ale available and took my mug to a table in the corner.
Looking over the people dining at the inn, I came to the conclusion that almost all of them were well-off. They were dressed well, and the ladies displayed their jewelry proudly. Some might say they were flaunting them. A group of gentlemen with unusual hats were sitting at a raised booth, playing a game of cards. There was a stack of money at the center of the table, and I noticed a number of gold coins amongst the silver. No copper was in sight. Next to this booth, a group of younger ladies were talking. There were many whispered words behind hands, and a lot of fluttering of bejeweled fans. It was freezing outside, and I could not see how any of them justified the fans, as valuable as they might be. I assumed these were the wives or mistresses of the men with the odd hats.
I saw a young girl sitting at a table in the opposite corner. She had her back to most of the room, but I could see her from the side. My eyes were glued on her, her uncommonly light hair like a beacon drawing attention to her thin neck, to her slim body, her bare, grass-stained feet, and I found her immediately attractive. She wore a very plain white dress, which I may not have noticed if not for the opulence displayed at the tables around her. She was staring at an unlit candle with great concentration, humming to herself. I continued to watch her as I took a sip of ale.
I spat it back into the mug, sniffed at the ale, and tilted it to peer into the mug, before taking another sniff. It smelled like it tasted: awful. I was looking around the room for a pot plant to tip the ale into, when I saw a flash in the corner of my eye. At the same instant, a cold sensation trickled down my spine. Magic. What was with this place? I had not even been there a day, and I’d witnessed magic being used twice. Looking back at the girl, I saw the candle was lit, and she looked satisfied.
The door burst open, and warden Adair stormed in. He leaned over the counter and started gesturing wildly, pointing at the Bleeding Wolf across the street. His words were quiet, but his face tense. Elijah looked confused. His eyes were on the ground, and he appeared to be pleading with the warden. Adair spoke a last word through gritted teeth, then stormed out again. Elijah rubbed at his face for a long moment, sighed, then put on a brave smile.
I looked back at the girl, who had turned to the fireplace, her lips moving to silent words. An odd girl. I sniffed at my ale again and tried to discern the horrible aromas. I could pick out sage, and pine, and possibly myrica gale and wormwood. It was truly awful stuff. Any number of the herbs may have acted as a preservative, but I doubted they needed to use all of them in one ale.
The doors opened again, and three hooded men entered. They approached Elijah, who was frantically looking around the inn. He ushered them into a room behind the counter and quickly closed the door. Soon, they were rushed back out again. I noticed that one of the men had a coin purse in his hand that he had not come in with. Elijah walked back to the counter and, seeing my eyes on him, quickly averted his own.
The doors slammed open, startling Elijah, who already looked as nervous as a pig awaiting slaughter. When he saw it was Marcus, he relaxed and pointed at me. Marcus looked at the untouched mug of ale sitting on the table and smiled as he sat down. “It’s shit, isn’t it?” Marcus asked.
“Terrible. I’ve been trying to devise a way to get rid of it.”
“You could just drink it.”
“I’d rather nail my balls to my knee.”
Marcus laughed and looked around the common room. “Nice place; how much for the room?”
“I haven’t asked, but I doubt it will be cheap.” I leaned in closer to Marcus. “There are some strange things happening at the Shady Oak.”
Marcus looked around the room again before turning back. “How so? Looks pretty normal to me.” I told him about the odd noises and lights from the cellar, and Elijah’s reaction when I tried to open the door. I explained the warden’s visit, and the mysterious hooded men leaving with the coin purse. “That does sound suspicious,” Marcus said.
“What of your visit to the docks?” I asked.
Marcus shook his head. “I found the imperial warehouse, but I couldn’t stay very long without looking suspicious. There are literally no jobs listed on that board. None.”
“Elijah said that might be the case. Something to do with taxes.”
Marcus noticed that I was staring at the opposite corner and turned to see at what. Noticing the girl, he smiled but said nothing.
Elijah walked over to us and placed a key on the table. It had a small wooden block attached, with the number seven carved into its side. “Your room is ready.”
“I forgot to ask—what are your rates?” I asked.
“Depends on how long you are staying.”
“Let’s say a month at this point, with the possibility of extending our stay?” I looked at Marcus, who nodded.
“Let’s say a gold coin for the month, including breakfast each morning. You can pay three silvers now, and the rest when the month is up. I used to ask for pay
ment only when guests were vacating a room, but… the taxes have been killing me.”
“That’s okay, we can agree to that. What did Adair want?” Marcus asked as I handed over the silver coins.
“Blamed me for another altercation across the street. You know anything about that?” Elijah asked.
“Yeah, some men threw rotten fish at the tavern,” I said. “Marcus taught them some manners.”
We heard some profanities muttered behind us and saw the girl stomping up the stairs. “Odd girl. What’s she about?” I asked.
Elijah looked at me for a long moment before answering. “Her name is Neysa. I’d keep my distance if I were you. She’s a feisty one. She was in Morwynne and attempted to get into the Academy of Magic. She said she was turned down due to her lack of nobility and absence of skill. She is not pleased at all. That’s all she told me.”
“I didn’t know there were enough people who could actually use magic to merit an academy,” I said. “But I did see her lighting a candle… I think.”
Elijah nodded. “Beats me. I can’t say I have ever met anyone else who could do something like that. But it turns out lighting candles is as much as she is capable of.”
“Then why join the academy?” I asked.
“Well, if you believe the rumors, they have some kind of supplement that’s available only at the academy, an elixir that boosts one’s abilities. I’d bet that is why she wanted to join. Still, I wish she’d be less open about it. The Inquisition would not be kind to her,” Elijah said. He noticed more customers waiting at the counter and excused himself.
We went up to our room and closed the door. Marcus collapsed onto one of the narrow beds and knocked his head on the wall. His feet were dangling off the other end, but he shuffled down, put his hands behind his head, and sighed. “Decent bed. Could be longer.”
I lifted the sheets on the other bed and inspected the mattress. It looked clean, with only a few stains, and I couldn’t see any fleas. Nodding, I put the sheets back as I found them and lay down on the bed. “How heavily guarded was that warehouse?”
Dark Legion Page 5
