by Taki Drake
Jarrow narrowed his eyes, and his large upright ears went down, clearly telegraphing his nervousness at Madrik’s invitation. “How do you know I have a problem?”
“You came in through the left-hand door. Everyone who comes in through that door is bearing some problem or situation that needs a solution.”
Jarrow turned and looked back at the way he’d come in. He saw the arrangement of the three doors and seemed to accept Madrik’s explanation. The bar manager led Jarrow over to a conveniently empty table and noticed that one of the benches had been moved beside the table instead of its normal chair. Sending a quick thank you to the BHB, Madrik seated himself and gestured to Jarrow to either stand or take the bench for his ease. The horse-like being gratefully positioned his trunk over the bench and settled onto it with a contented sigh of relief. Before either Madrik or he could do anything but relax, Wynn was there with a tray and her cheerful chatter.
“Welcome to the Badger Hole Bar! I’m sure that we can help you with your problem. Here’s a welcome drink that I believe will fit your metabolism and bring you great pleasure. There’s also a small tray of foods that we believe are appropriate for you. If there is anything else you would like, please let us know.” The fast-moving waitress deposited the tray with sliced cheeses and what looked like pickled vegetables on toast in front of Jarrow and then placed a beer in front of each one of them. Madrik gratefully picked up his beer and took a big swallow, hoping that Jarrow would take the lead in explaining his problem so that Madrik didn’t have to display his ignorance.
The bar manager’s relaxed attitude and forbearance from questioning seemed to ease Jarrow into a more talkative mood. He explained to Madrik that they were having a problem with the political situation in the neighboring planet. Since that planet controlled some of the critical nutrients that kept their population alive, he had been sent to negotiate with the government of the planet, and it was not going well.
To Madrik, it sounded like a matter of racial profiling and prejudice. He didn’t understand what they were supposed to be doing about to solve the problem and he felt helpless in trying to fit this puzzle piece. Feeling a bit panicky, the bar manager leaned on his companion bond to see what the BHB recommended.
All that Madrik got back from his companion was a sense of just a moment, I’m busy. Well, that was very helpful! Madrik thought to himself. Before he could do anything else, the hair on the back of his neck stirred, causing him to stand up suddenly.
Jarrow interrupted what he was saying and asked Madrik, looking around in concern, “Is there something wrong? Or was it something I said?”
“No, it was nothing that you said, but I believe a solution to your problem may be coming.”
Madrik had no idea why those words had come out of his mouth. But he found himself standing at the end of the bar, staff in hand and at the ready. Brechal was backing him up from behind the bar, and Alastair had moved to cover his left flank.
The door on the right opened up with a soft swish of air. Brilliant light and a wave of cold air washed through the doorway and over the waiting men. Madrik’s skin shivered in response, but he kept his focus on the doorway.
The first person through the doorway was an impressively beautiful female with long blonde hair. She moved like a dancer, impossibly light on her feet. Her brilliant eyes were counteracted by the control shown by her stone-cold face. To Madrik, the long beautiful hair did not make up for the flat eyes of the killer that she was. Even cloaked, she moved like an assassin. The flashes of supple leather armor that showed as her cloak shifted only contributed to that impression.
Directly behind her traveled a pair of men. One of them was slender and wiry with many visible tattoos. Looking around with a cheerful smile on his face, the man nudged the other, pointing to the bar with his chin. He said audibly, “Look, Connor. This bar will have something decent to drink.”
His companion responded, “It looks like that, Ivan. And I feel a big thirst coming on.”
The man referred to as Connor was innocuous looking, but Madrik knew that he was just as dangerous as the woman. Looking had him intently, Madrik got the impression of age and heat. Helped by images over his companion bond, the bar manager recognized the plainly clad man as some form of fighter mage, one that carried destructive magics.
Madrik was briefly worried, but reassurance from the BHB told him that there were protections in place and that he shouldn’t be so concerned. Making a mental note to himself that he needed to understand that also, Madrik deliberately relaxed some of his tense muscles.
The whole party was not through the door yet because it remained open. The next person through the door was a huge man, redheaded and with a startled look on his face and a tentative attitude. The man was shaking, only visible to someone that was standing close, but Madrik knew the sounds and sights of someone who was pushing past a great fear on sheer grit. This man had been afraid to go through the door but was determined to do so anyway. Involuntarily, Madrik’s face relaxed into a smile, and he could see the corresponding easing in the posture of the big man.
Two more people came through the doorway, holding hands and looking like nothing more than tradespeople out for a walk. With body postures that showed that they were together, Madrik was not at all surprised when the man cheerfully commented to his companion, “Here is the proper place for you to drink, my dear. Margilla, my love, may I buy you a drink?”
The woman answered in a melodious tone, “Of course, Roberto. I would love a drink or two and someplace to rest my feet.”
While everyone had been paying attention to the people that had come through the doorway, the door had quietly closed. Abruptly remembering his duties, Madrik looked at the woman in the lead and said, “Welcome to the Badger Hole Bar. My name is Madrik, and I am the bar manager here.”
The woman’s voice was a combination of warm honey and crystal shards, simultaneously soothing the ear and pricking the nerves. She answered, “Thank you for the welcome. My name is Cyntrix, and my companions are Ivan, Connor, Darrell, Margilla, and Roberto. While a drink and possibly something to eat would be welcome, I believe that you might have work for us. It may be either for yourself or someone in the bar.”
Brechal and Madrik looked at each other and then laughed at the same time. When Madrik looked back at the female assassin, he saw that her face had actually moved. One finally arched eyebrow was quirked up a little bit above her left eye in a question. Madrik’s grin stayed firmly on his face, and he could see that this bothered Cyntrix a bit. She wasn’t used to people reacting to her that way.
Rather than explain his amusement, Madrik said “If you have special requests for drinks, please let our waitress, Wynn, know. I believe I know just the gentleman who might benefit from your expertise. If you would follow me?”
The bar manager gestured for the group to follow him and led the way back over to where Jarrow was half reclining on the bench. After making general introductions and watching as Wynn got each of them their choice of drink as well as an assortment of food, Madrik beat a grateful and rapid retreat over to the bar. Idly, he noted in passing that the combination of the cold that followed the assassin like a pet fog had merged with the heat generated by Jarrow’s horse-like body and the proximity to the fireplace. It had turned a toasty corner of the bar into one that was quite pleasant. I guess there’s a benefit in anything, Madrik thought to himself.
Both Alastair and Brechal exchanged relieved and congratulatory smiles and nods with Madrik when he came back to sit at the bar. Most of the patrons preferred to sit at tables with groups of others leaving Madrik to be the lone person sitting on a barstool.
“So that’s the way it’s supposed to happen? We have somebody come in from the left that has a problem, and somebody comes in through the right who has a solution. Is that correct?” asked Brechal.
Madrik responded, “According to the storyteller and what I understand from the BHB, that’s approximately right.”
/> “But what about all the people that have come through the right-hand door and there’s been nobody that has come to the left-hand door?”
Madrik thoughtfully said what he had been thinking, “I think that the people that come in through the right-hand door like Alastair here and Wynn, are solving problems that we had in the bar itself. Rather than coming and going, it seems like the BHB needs them and wants them to stay.”
Madrik was keeping his eye on Jarrow’s table and the animated discussion that was going on there. Even the stoic assassin seemed to be somewhat animated, moving her hands in decisive gestures and listening carefully to the others as they talked.
The bar manager had a lot to think about. The whole concept of a problem-solving bar room where people came with problems and others came with solutions felt strange to him. Taken by itself, he supposed it would be like consulting with a specialty group. But the sheer challenge of drawing solutions to the problems made his brain hurt.
The intense discussion at Jarrow’s table had expanded to include the surrounding ones. Men dressed as space mercenaries and those dressed in simple robes were throwing suggestions at the group at the table, even as they argued the relative merits of options among themselves. It was as if a tornado of problem-solving was spinning around the room, mixing the floating suggestions together and creating different solutions.
It didn’t help Madrik’s confusion level when Brechal leaned over and muttered in a low tone, “I keep thinking of a poker game where if you win you get to keep the loser’s brain. I wonder if the winner at the end of the game gets keep everybody’s brain or if they have to give them back?”
Madrik dissolved into helpless laughter while Alastair pressed the palms of his hands against his eyeballs saying, “Now, I need something that’s going to get that image out of my mind.”
Sharing one last laugh, the three of them turned back to their respective duties. Each carried away some food for thought and consideration. However, the complexities of keeping a barroom full of drinking patrons satisfied soon crowded everything else out of their minds.
It was only a bit later that Madrik realized that Jarrow’s table was empty. The man had disappeared with the entire assassin’s party. He turned quickly to Brechal and asked, “Did you see Jarrow and the assassin’s group leave? Did they go back through the left-hand door?”
“Dammit, no. I totally missed them leaving. Obviously, it wasn’t as dramatic as either of the groups coming here.”
“All that means is that we still don’t know how people leave the bar to go back to their home.”
Brechal shrugged in a helpless gesture and went back for another pitcher of beer.
Chapter 26 – Fool Me Twice
Brechal could tell that Madrik was getting antsy again. He and Alastair exchanged looks of warning, but it didn’t seem like the bar manager’s discomfort was intense enough to herald another possible dangerous entry through the doors.
Madrik wasn’t aware of his behavior shift. He was however conscious that the BHB was getting excited about something. He could feel the anticipation through the bond. The energy bouncing back and forth between him and the bar was pulsing faster. For the last half hour, every time the force bounced back and forth it made an almost audible click inside of his head. It felt like there was an adjustment happening in his brain and it was very uncomfortable.
Playing like a form of home-video were scenes of every time that there had been a collision of his expectations and the evidence of his senses. This clash felt like a blockage, almost like constipation of the mind. The pressure was becoming immense, and Madrik was nervous about where it was going.
This time the BHB sent a quick warning to Madrik. The image of shaking walls gave the bar manager just enough time to yell out, “Incoming! Quake!” before the walls and ground rumbled. The low-toned vibration was drawn out, settling deep into their bones and echoing on the hard surfaces of the bar.
By now, the BHB staff had become talented at addressing unexpected events. The bar itself also knew better how to help. Just like the last time, rootlets exploded from the floor and kept chairs and tables from moving. Disappearing almost as quickly as they had appeared, some of the patrons didn’t even realize what had happened. Short little tendrils had popped up from the surface of the tables to grab the pitchers and prevent them from spilling.
Sheets of clear material had slammed over any open glassware shelf. There was no flying dust and no sound of crashing anywhere in the bar. We could make a bloody fortune in California with this, Madrik thought to himself.
The quiet in the room that followed the rumbling was short-lived. All around the taproom, the various groups of drinkers went back to their conversations and their drinking. It seemed unnatural to Madrik that they were so little disturbed by what amounted to an earthquake.
Alastair came up to Madrik and asked him, “Do you want me to go look around?”
Madrik could feel the BHB’s gleeful anticipation of his actions. I am not going to fall for this again! he pushed to his companion. The bar’s amusement immediately rattled through the rooms, signaled by the fire dancing from the open fireplace in an insane explosion of elementary laughter and accompanied by the lights overhead twinkling madly.
Shrugging his shoulders, Madrik said, “Alastair, the bar had me running all over the place last time, and it turned out to be nothing but swirling fog. I think we will wait until we have a sign of a more substantial event before we go running around this time. The Badger Hole Bar is finding this just too amusing for us to dance to his tune.”
Alastair looked doubtful but refrained from making any other comment except, “Okay. You are the boss.”
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The next half-hour was very quiet, and Madrik was starting to relax even though the bar was packed and the BHB kept chortling in glee along the companion bond. The amusement level that was coming from his companion was really starting to get on Madrik’s nerves. Just when he thought he had figured things out, they seem to alter, and that was hard for him to accept. Of course, this part of his life seemed to be a constant message of “adjust or die.” And sometimes situations just sucked.
So sure had Madrik been that the rumbling had no significance that he was shocked speechless when a man came into the middle door with an owl perched on his shoulder.
To be fair, Madrik attention was first caught by the immense owl that was perched on the man’s scrawny shoulder. For all the attention that Madrik and Brechal gave the man, he could have been a walking branch, designed just to hold the owl. The BHB was spinning with joy and happiness. The sound and images that were pouring into Madrik’s brain over the companion bond were arriving so quickly that he had a buzzing in his ears and flashes of light before his eyes. His companion was seriously out of control.
Moving into the middle of the confusion like the prow of a ship that carried its own calm water in its wake, Alastair approached the man and offered his own forearm to the bird. His voice rumbled out, asking, “Sir, I believe that both you and the splendid owl would be more comfortable if he would accept my arm as his perch instead of your shoulder.”
To further scramble Madrik’s brain, it was the bird that replied, “Thank you. Cal here is willing but not terribly strong. That is one of the problems when you get tagged as a scholar, and nobody wants to help your physical conditioning.”
Before Alastair or anybody else could respond, the man accompanying the owl answered for himself, “At least I have thumbs. Each of us has advantages although I hesitate to say you’re the brawn and I’m the brain.”
The man’s voice was low toned and unobtrusive. He seemed a little skittish to Madrik as if he were unsure of his welcome. The bar manager toned down his usual greeting, simply inviting them in for a drink and something to eat.
While Madrik had been speaking, the large owl had stepped over to Alastair’s forearm and then made his way by claw and beak up to the bouncer’s shoulder. The considerable weight of the
big bird did not seem to cause the bouncer any difficulty, but the relief from that burdensome weight could be seen in the scholar’s straightened posture and lighter step.
Cal’s quick look around the taproom did nothing to relax the tension that Madrik could see vibrating through the thinly muscled body. Searching for something to say that wouldn’t send the man bolting out of the bar, Madrik was at a loss until Wynn came flying up to the group.
“Oh, my goodness, you poor thing. Stop standing there and come over and sit down on the stool. Alastair, you get that gorgeous bird something to eat and drink. I’ll be right back because we have to clean that wound! Now, don’t go anywhere!!”
In the small whirlwind of irresistible force that Wynn seemed to carry with her, things got sorted out. Cal seemed comfortable sitting by the bar on a stool, away from the rest of the noisy drinkers. Wynn carefully cleaned the wounds that Madrik had not noticed in his own confusion, chattering all the time. With seemingly artless questions, the waitress managed to extract the story of Cal’s arrival. Even the owl, whose name turned out to be Glaux, provided some information.
Madrik wasn’t sure how much he believed about the story of being sent on a mission by the owl’s mistress to save treasured books. However, he was too wrapped up in the fact that he hadn’t known that the building had actually arrived to be objective. It did not help that he had misread both the BHB’s intent and his own emotions.
Reassurance and apology slipped along the companion bond like soothing water against the soreness in Madrik soul and ego. The BHB had not tried to be cruel but had thought that the situation was amusing. A promise to try to be less juvenile was offered and accepted before Madrik could focus again on what was going on around him.
Cal was explaining to an interested Brechal and Alastair that he had been wounded trying to protect books from being burned. The suddenly articulate man stated with assurance that his efforts and Glaux’s mission both centered around the preservation of knowledge.
