Canto scoffed. "More like circus judges," he commented. "Those fools don't know their left hand from their right, but they decide who wins and loses."
"Not everyone wants agreements solved by combatants bashing each others' heads in," Percy chimed in with a laugh.
"I'm sure we can all agree it's an interesting sight to see," Ned pointed out.
"Like watching fools jump into a box of Diluvian bees," Canto grumbled.
Percy glanced around the street and furrowed his brow. "Ned, you have been here on past tournaments, have you not?"
"A few," Ned admitted.
"Do you recall seeing so many guards?" Percy asked him. There were guards at nearly every corner, and if there wasn't a guard a twinner was sure to be standing there.
Ned frowned and stroked his beard. "No, I don't recall ever seeing so many."
"And they are very tense," Percy added.
"Are you four coming?" Pat yelled at them. Ruth and she stood a quarter of a block ahead of them waiting on the corner.
"The ladies call us, gentlemen," Ned told the group.
Percy smirked. "At least they intervened in this argument before a twinner was needed," he joked.
The men hurried along and caught up to their better halves. The party journeyed onward and all were relieved when their destination took them into less crowded streets. The people thinned to where they hardly met anyone, but the buildings grew taller and less elegant. The wide, straight streets curved and bent at odd angles as the blocks changed from rectangular to something drawn by a six-year old student of geometry. Trash sat against the walls, having been tossed from nearby upper windows, and the dry ground turned to deep mud. The muck was made up of garbage, undrained rainwater, broken water pipes, and other things the party didn't want to think about.
Pat stepped ankle-deep into one of the cesspools of unknown makeup. She shuddered when the muck lapped against her shoes, and whipped her head over to Canto. "This had better be worth it," she growled at him.
Canto pulled his legs from knee-deep muck and scowled at her. "Ya think Ah'm enjoying this?" he snapped back.
"Patience, my friends. I believe we're almost there," Ned interrupted them.
"How can you tell?" Pat asked him.
Ned nodded to Sins. "Because our friend here is even paler than usual." Everyone paused in their struggles against the sinking wet earth and turned to the assassin. His pale slip of visible skin on his face was indeed whitish.
"Is something wrong, Sins?" Percy asked his guard. Sins stiffly shook his head. "Are you in need of a doctor?" Another stiff shake.
Canto frowned at the assassin. "If he wants to be secretive then let him die of a cold."
"That's a very cold thing to say," Ruth scolded him.
"It's because Ah am cold. This mud's soaked me through," Canto replied.
Ned pushed on a few yards ahead of the group and paused at the opening to a small square. "Then you will be pleased to know that we have arrived," he announced to the group.
The companions forgot their quarrel and sloshed forward. The way opened and they found themselves staring at a square surrounded on two sides by two-story buildings hewn from the cliffs. The other two sides were made of two-story structures made from half-rotten wood boards. The shadow from the tall, forward-sloped cliffs hung over the square like a perpetual night sky. The only reprieve from the darkness came from lamps hung around the outer edges of the square. Even during the day they burned their oil to provide light.
Their destination lay in the half of the square built from rotted material. An arched doorway stood open on the bottom floor, and above it swung a sign. In black, faded letters it read Tracts of Land. The tall, narrow windows that looked out on the square were so grimy magic couldn't make them clean, and through the door they glimpsed a dark, smoke-filled room filled with shadowy figures.
Pat frowned and her eyes dodged over to Canto close beside her. "This is where you want to sleep?" she asked him.
Before Canto could reply there was a noise inside the Tracts of Land. The party watched the shadows inside the building lift up chairs and bring them down on one another's heads. Men yelled and footsteps trampled across the wooden floor. The noise ended when two men flew through the door and landed face-first into the mud.
Ned chuckled. "It certainly has atmosphere," he pointed out.
A woman a head taller than Pat with thick arms and even thicker breasts stepped out of the doorway. She wore a red silk dress with a low-cut neck that showed off her ample assets. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid and though her face wasn't entirely clean, anyone could see she was a beautiful woman.
The woman put her fists on her hips and scowled at the two men who were struggling to free their faces from the mud. "Don't come back here until you've got some gold in your pockets!" she yelled at them.
One of the men stood and whipped around to shake his fist at the woman. "You can't do this to us! We're honest men!" he shouted
"I honesty don't care. Go whine to a twinner, for all the good it'll do for you. You're not getting back in here until you pay your bill," she argued.
The man growled and pulled a knife from his boot. He leaned his arm back to throw it at her, but Sins pulled out his dagger and threw his weapon at the man. Sins' dagger sunk deep into the man's arm, and the stranger screamed and dropped his knife. He fell to his knees and clutched at his impaled arm.
Sins dropped his reins into Percy's hand, strode through his companions, and walked up to kneel beside the man. He grabbed his dagger and yanked it from the stranger's arm. The man screamed and scrambled back. Blood poured from the wound and colored the mud red. "D-don't hurt me! P-please don't hurt me," he pleaded.
Sins clutched his dagger to slice the man's neck open, but Percy frowned. "That's enough, Sins. He won't be throwing knives for a while," Percy called to him.
Sins paused and looked over his shoulder. His eyes were narrowed, but he wiped his dagger on the man's pants and placed his dagger back into his cloak. The stranger scrambled to his feet and escaped his companion. Sins stood and his companions strode over to him.
The woman stepped out from the doorway of the inn and peered at the group through the shadowy haze. Her eyes widened and a smile brightened her face. "Sinny!" the buxom young woman yelled. She scurried over to Sins just as he was standing and wrapped him in a tight, breast-crushing hug all the other men wished to be a part of.
Canto snorted. "Sinny?" he repeated.
The group expected the touch-sensitive assassin to kill the woman outright. Instead Sins pushed them apart and wiped his hands against the creases in his cloak. "Deadly Sins," he corrected her.
She laughed and knocked a hand against the back of his shoulder. He stumbled forward, but caught himself before he spilled into the mud. "Always with the act. You're just lucky I call you Sinny and not your real name. Now don't you at least have a hello for your little sister?"
The companions collectively dropped their jaws to the ground. They whipped their eyes from the beautiful, buxom, friendly woman to the cold, dark-clothed, sinister Sins.
Canto looked back to the woman with a raised eyebrow. "Yer joking, right?" he asked her.
The young woman turned to the group, but cast a side-glare at her brother. "Sinny would like you to believe he was born from shadows, but he was born like everyone else, and a full nine years ahead of me."
"They don't need to know that," Sins told her.
The woman sighed, crossed her arms over her ample chest, and shook her head. "I was hoping you'd brought friends to see me, but I see I'm wrong. Won't you ever trust anyone?" she asked him.
"No," was the blunt reply.
"You should. It's less dangerous than making enemies," she scolded.
"Friends become enemies," he argued.
"Spoken like a true bachelor," she returned.
Ned leaned forward on his staff and chuckled. "Does that prove it to you, Canto?" he asked the dwarf.
The dwarf scowled and
glanced between the two. "Ah guess it proves something," he grumbled.
Ned swept off his hat, walked up to the young woman, and bowed. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Miss-?"
She waved aside his gallant pleasantries. "None of that fancy stuff now. Just a good shake of the hand." She took one of his wizened hands and gave it a good shake that rattled him from the tip of his hat to his shoes. Her heavy arms weren't just for show. "As for who I am, Tits McGee is my name and bustling tables is my game," she replied.
Pat raised an eyebrow. "Is that your real name?" she asked the buxom woman.
McGee laughed and shook her head. "You're the first to ask that. Most don't get past the fake name, or past these, for that matter." She pushed up her breasts and released them so they bounced. The mens' heads bounced with the same rhythm. "As for your question, the answer is no. My real name's-" Sins slipped behind her and slapped his hand over her mouth.
"You speak too much," he scolded.
McGee tore off his hand and frowned. "And you speak too little, big brother. They seem like friendly folks."
Pat wasn't so sure. She looked at the males in her group and saw that Fred, Canto and Percy were mesmerized by the bouncing of McGee's assets whenever she moved. Sins noticed their gazes and pulled McGee behind him. "Many men are friendly toward you," Sins replied.
McGee pushed him aside and smiled at the group. "They know a friendly woman when they see one," she countered. Her eyes flitted over the party. "Now what brings you and your acquaintances here at this time? Come to see the tournament?" she asked them.
"We are just some humble travelers in need of food and lodgings for a few nights," Ned answered her.
The woman laughed, dropped a hand on Ned's shoulder, and turned him toward the door of the inn. "You're as good a liar as I ever heard one, but I won't pry. Sinny never tells me anything, either. Now let's get you inside and see what rooms we have. They aren't very comfortable or fancy, but so long as you're not that heavy the floor won't fall out from beneath you."
"That sounds perfect for our pocket book, Miss McGee," Ned agreed.
"You can call me Ti," she told him.
CHAPTER 7
"Ti!" came a voice from the inn. A tall, hefty man appeared in the doorway. He wore a stained apron and the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt were rolled up to the elbows. The man had a butcher's knife in one hand, a cleaver in the other, and a wild look in his eyes. He peered into the square and noticed the woman among the strangers. "Ti, you all right?" he shouted at her.
Ti smiled. "I'm fine, Hugh. These people helped me out," she told him. Ti turned to the group and gestured to the swarthy gentleman. "My new friends, meet my old one. Mr. Hugh Land."
Ned walked over and bowed to the man. "A pleasure to meet the owner of such a well-known establishment."
The proprietor looked askance at the old, wizened man in the strange garb. "Um, the pleasure's all mine," Hugh replied. He glanced at Ti. "So those cheap men are gone, Ti?"
"Yes, thanks to these folks, but I could have handled myself," Ti insisted. Sins scoffed behind her. She whirled around and put her hands on her hips. "I would have ducked that knife," she argued.
"Don't be fighting with the customers, Ti," Hugh scolded. He paused and looked to Ned. "You are customers, aren't ya?"
"Paying customers who want rooms for the tournament," Ned added.
Hugh's face brightened. He stepped aside and swept his hand with the cleaver into the dark room. "Then welcome, paying customers, to Hugh's Tracts of Land!" Fred didn't think that was such a comforting greeting, but Ned again bowed.
"A pleasure being here, good sir." Ned turned around to the rest of the group. "Let us enter and partake of Mr. Land's-"
"Call me Hugh," Hugh insisted.
"Hugh's hospitality," Ned rephrased. The old castor stepped inside and Hugh followed him. Pat, Fred, Ruth and Percy secured their steeds and hurried into the inn after the pair.
Ti turned to her older brother and grabbed his gloves hand. "Come on, Sinny. I have a bottle of your favorite drink stashed in the cellar."
Canto strolled up beside Sins and chuckled. "Ya have an interesting little sister there, Sinny," he snorted. Canto walked into the inn with Sins' narrowed eyes boring a hole into the back of the short dwarf's head.
Then Sins was yanked forward by his persistent sister. "Don't let your friends wait for you," she scolded.
Sins growled, but let himself be dragged into the dark inn.
Fred, Pat, Percy and Ruth stuck close together as they entered the dark, shadowed inn. They stepped from the square street into a large, square room filled with smoke and round tables. The walls were made of a dark wood stained by a couple hundred years of smoke and grimy hands. The only natural light came from the holes in the wall caused by knife blades and punches. Seated at the round tables was a fine example of cutthroats, beggars, thieves, murders, and the occasional tax collector. Several one-eyed gentlemen sneered at them, and half of the customers slipped a hand beneath the table to clutch the handles of their knives hidden in their waists and boots.
Candles flickered across their gaunt, scarred appearances, and many of them leered at Pat and Ruth. Along the dark-paneled walls were lit torches, and at the far back to the left was a door that swung on its hinges and led to the back rooms. Hugh guided them through the mess to the back wall.
As Ti swept through the tables behind Sins one of the men leaned out to give her behind an appreciative whack. Sins swung around and grabbed the man by the wrist. The assassin pulled the man out of his chair, pinned him against his dark clothes, and pressed his dagger against the lecherous man's throat. "Don't do that," Sins warned the man.
"N-no, sir," his captive squeaked.
Ti stood off to the side with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. "Sinny, stop that!" she commanded her brother. Sins tossed the man aside and the stranger crashed head-first into his table.
Hugh turned and scowled at the mess. "You make a big enough mess of this place and you buy it," he threatened Sins.
Ti pressed her hands against Sins back and pushed him forward past the broken table and dazed man. "I'll make sure he doesn't do it again, Hugh," she assured him.
While that mess happened Ned led the rest of the strange parade that was their group to the far back of the room where stood a long, narrow desk that was waist high. Beside the desk was a winding flight of wooden stairs fashioned in late-century termite. The teenagers bumped up against Ned's rear while Canto swaggered up behind them.
Hugh hurried around the other side of the desk and pushed an open book toward Ned. "If you would sign here then I can show you to your rooms," he told Ned.
Ned took a quill offered by Hugh and flourished his signature across both pages. The old castor pushed the book back to Hugh, who admired the signature and raised a brow. "Quite a unique way of writing your name," Hugh commented.
"Yes, I call it my Signature Ned," Ned replied.
Pat rolled her eyes. "Phaeton give me patience," Fred heard her mutter.
"Well, Mr. Ned-" Hugh began.
"Just Ned, if you please," Ned corrected him.
"Ned," Hugh rephrased. "How many friends do you have here?"
"There are seven of us," he replied.
"And how many rooms will you be needing?"
"What are the rates for your fine establishment?" Ned wondered.
"Ten gold pieces per room, per day," Hugh told him.
Pat's mouth dropped open, and even Percy was aghast. "That's robbery!" she exclaimed.
"That's supply and demand. If you aren't willing to meet my demands then I'm not going to supply any rooms to ya," Hugh replied. "The tournament means there's not many rooms left in the city, so prices have gone up for the ones that are left."
Ned pulled out a drawstring bag from his cloak and reached inside. He pulled out a handful of coins, and Fred recognized them as pay-dirt. "We will take five rooms."
Hugh took one of the coins and pulled an e
yeglass from his apron pocket. He peered at the coin through the glass, sneered, and tossed it onto the desk. "Keep your pay-dirt, and don't try handing me more of that stuff. My eye glass will see right through your funny money. It was made by those elves who fixed up the Swearing Stone."
Ned smiled and bowed his head. "I see I can't fool a wise man." He reached into his purse and dropped thirty coins onto the desk. "We will take three rooms."
Hugh put his eye glass into his eye and leaned down to inspect the pile. He straightened and nodded. "Everything looks in order. I'll show you the way to yer rooms." He walked around the desk and to the stairs.
Ned and the others followed, but Percy paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned to see Sins standing close to the tables. The assassin's eyes were on Ti. She worked the tables and served drinks to the rough crowd, but the ever-watchful eye of her brother kept the men from risking a more physical appreciation of her serving. "Are you coming?" Percy asked the assassin.
Ti glanced over her shoulder and frowned at her older brother. "I'll be fine," she assured him. Sins' eyes narrowed, but he turned away and strode past Percy. Percy looked to Ti, smiled and shrugged, and followed the assassin up the stairs.
The upper floor was filled with small rooms separated by narrow, dark hallways. Pat cringed when she noticed small shadows skitter across the floor and into large holes at the bottom of the walls. Hugh led them to the rear of the building to the very end of a long hall and stopped in front of a window that looked out on the back alley. He turned around so the window was to his back gestured to two doors on his left, and one on his right. There was a final door to the man's immediate right and against the exterior wall, but Hugh didn't indicate that as a prospective room.
"These are yours. Some of the best in the house," he told them.
Ned opened the door to the one nearest the exterior rear wall and everyone got a peak inside. The room was a ten-by-ten foot box with a single window on the left wall. A narrow, short bed was stuck against the far right wall with a small nightstand beside it. Opposite the door was a table with a washstand and a mirror on the wall above it. Something small and with many legs scrambled under the tattered and holed bed sheet that hung from the bed.
The Unwilling Aviator (Book 4) Page 4
