by F. E. Hubert
***
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Read on for a sample of the next part of the series.
In the City
The smell of countless people living close together in a damp place had a life of its own. It assaulted Mufroen’s senses as they walked down the crowded streets, looking for a place where they could stay for a couple of nights.
People in the City of Isles were tall. Taller by at least half a head, the men gladly made way for the short warrior as he followed Rheena through the crowd. Mufroen’s stance and the sword at his hip told them enough to be polite.
The dark braid down his back, the distinct tribe markings that edged what was left of his sunrobes and the pale blue of his sun-bleached eyes added the unspoken warning that he came from the far lands of the high desert. Few ventured there and even fewer returned, but when they did, they told stories about the warrior tribes that lived far out on the inhospitable sands.
“We have bedding in the stables for your man,” The chubby innkeeper made sure not to look at Mufroen as he spoke, but he was all bows and smiles for Rheena. “And meals in the kitchen -”
“He stays with me,” She placed a hand on the man’s arm in a gesture of confidentiality. “Also for dinner. I’m sure you understand, a woman alone…”
“Of course, my lady. As you please.” If it hadn’t been for his copious belly, the man would have bent double with the force with which he bowed agreement to Rheena’s wishes. She didn’t seem to notice, but Mufroen thought he heard a snort come from his hip. When he looked down, the sword was still.
He couldn’t say he disagreed with the sentiment, he had to bite his lips a couple of times already that day. His presence convinced the keeper of every inn and tavern they visited that Rheena was a Lady. You could see the hospitality get turned up as they took in her appearance, then added that of the warrior behind her and concluded she must be Somebody. He had to admit the polite attitude was nice, but he suspected the prices rose accordingly. Rheena seemed close to making a deal with this one though, so he went to stand outside in the hallway.
The room was on the top floor of the three-storey tavern, right above the entrance. A flight of stairs connected it to the common room. The only other door in the passage opened to a minute storage closet holding a solitary broom and bucket. Slivers of daylight fell through a narrow window, dancing with the dust motes before forming a pattern of crooked squares on the plank floor. It looked out on the dirty fronts of buildings across the street, most taverns and inns like the one they were in.
“Overlooking the city’s taverns and bars, that’ll do wonders for our beauty sleep.” The sword said in a low voice.
Mufroen thought it was a wonder anyone could sleep at all in this city, filled with a thousand noises and smells, but he kept silent as the innkeeper bowed his way out of the room and into the hall. He said something pleasant to Rheena with a greasy smile. When he trotted down the stairs, Mufroen stepped into the room with a deep bow and a flourish of his mantle.
“May I disturb The Lady, my lady?”
She threw one of the two large pillows on the bed at him with a laugh.
“Your fault, with your menacing glower.”
“I most certainly do not glower,” He crossed the room to look out on the street again. Irregular shards of coloured glass depicted what he guessed was the inn’s weapon. It kept him from seeing more than vague shapes on the other side. “My face is just not made for all that movement you put into it.” She made a face at him that seemed to move about all the muscles she had, before she reached out and drew him into the bed.
Job for a sword
As he tore a piece from the coarse bread that came with the meat and bean stew, Mufroen took his time to look around the common room.
The bar was built against and partly into the wall left of the entrance. Behind it, the innkeeper was filling mugs and cups with beer and wine. A large table with benches along the sides took up most of the room. About two dozen people sat at it in clumps of two and three, eating and drinking.
A row of smaller tables lined up against the wall opposite the bar. A long bench covered with faded pillows provided seats on the side of the wall, rickety chairs faced it at all of the seven tables.
Mufroen sat at last table, the farthest he could sit from the door and the bar, a good place to keep an eye on the door next to the bar that led to their room. Rheena was still up there, washing and changing.
Only one of the other small tables was occupied, the one at the other end, near the door. The man sitting at it must have been strong as an ox when he was younger. He still had the raw-boned frame and broad shoulders, but the roundness of his stomach suggested too many nights spent drinking too many drinks and his skin had a greyish, waxy gleam. He pretended to stare into his cup, but Mufroen couldn’t help notice that he kept a sharp eye on the door and everything that happened inside the tavern.
A tremor at his hip warned him before the man moved.
Sad that the next story isn’t about Dun? Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon in The Isles of Krake.
Titles by F.E. Hubert
Tales of Mufroen and Dun
Sword of the Sands
Book of Magic
Sword in the City
Isles of Krake
Available soon:
Dog’s blade
Swords and Magic (Tales of Mufroen and Dun 1-5)
Land of imagination
Dark Temple
Available soon:
Cosmic justice
Haunted
You can contact F.E. Hubert through his email address: [email protected] or his Facebook page: www.facebook.com/Hubertwrites
