Delver Magic: Book 05 - Chain of Bargains (15 page)

"Pay four!" several of
them shouted out in near unison—laughing and snorting.

The loser was not so eager to
agree.

"But double half a bet,
because it's only one eye. Double is two. I paid two. Won't pay more."

The declaration did not sit well
with the goblin that cast the eyes. Two in a row was a rarity and the goblin
wanted its just reward. It reached over to the coin stack of the loser and
snatched two more.

The brazen move infuriated the
goblin that was being stared at by one shag eye.

"Thief!" the loser
accused, and it pulled the short sword from its belt as it stood up on the
chair. "Cut off hands!"

Each goblin followed suit and in
an instant they were all waving their weapons frantically about. Despite the
fact the other goblins had unanimously agreed the loss should have totaled four
coins, they did not all gang up on the loser. Snatching coins from another's
pile was also apparently deemed inappropriate behavior, and the argument rose
to another level of anger and accusation. The small monsters spit and cursed at
each other, and threats of violence escalated.

Believing tensions were set to
boil over into a wild riot, Ryson placed his hands upon the handles of his war
blades, ready to pull them out in order to defend the crowd of bystanders from
the likely brawl. He took three agile steps toward the back table, hoping to
create a clear path to the goblins before the human patrons took to flight. To
his absolute surprise, not one human rose, not one made any effort to leave.

The delver could not completely
dismiss the reaction of the crowd even as he eyed the bickering dark creatures
with raised alarm. Yes, the humans had been subdued in their previous attention
toward the goblins in the corner, but that was before swords were drawn and
threats exchanged. He expected the other patrons to leap for cover or make a
hasty retreat to the exit.

Every one else in the tavern
certainly noticed the escalation at the goblin table, and their faces revealed
true concern, but they made no move for the exit. If anything, they looked more
to the front door with alarm and shied away from it as if the true danger
waited out in the streets as opposed to near the ruckus in the back of the
tavern.

It didn't take long for the answer
to become clear, which in itself was surprising. No one shouted out an alarm,
no one called for help, but they showed up anyway, as if they sensed the
disturbance in the air. Once they made their presence known, everyone—even the
delver—understood that they were the true threat, not some pathetic goblin
short sword.

Ryson felt them before he caught
their scent, heard their footsteps, or watched them throw open the door. The
inside of the tavern rose several degrees before they even entered. The room
was already uncomfortably warm. Even during the night, temperatures of the high
sun season seldom dropped to a point that might cool off a room full of people.
When the heat of half-demons is added to the heavy humidity of sultry night
air, a crowded tavern can feel like a brick oven, and inferns generated and
radiated heat as if their core consisted of trapped lava.

Only three entered, though Ryson
could sense several more outside the building. The three inferns marched into
the center of the tavern with indifference to everything but their intended
mission. Their pale faces exposed a total lack of feeling. Though they burned
with some unnatural inner fire, their emotions lacked any such passion.

Despite their short stature, their
very presence commanded attention across the entire room. Not everyone within
the tavern could see their black armor covered bodies or their hairless ghost
white faces, but none could ignore the sun-like glow that surrounded each
infern or the reddish blaze of the metal javelins in their hands.

The goblins turned with a start
and their previous argument became as important to them as a dust mite burrowed
in some small hole underfoot. They forgot about the bet, disregarded the theft,
and turned their focus to surviving. Every one of the monsters quickly sheathed
their swords and dropped back down into their seats.

The display of contrition and
compliance, however, was lost on the inferns. They meant to confront the
goblins, and so they would—whether they were arguing or sitting peacefully in
their chairs engaged in calm discussion. The half-demons disregarded the
humans, even ignored Ryson—who was standing between them and the goblins. They
simply pressed through, taking a single direct route toward the back table.

Ryson had to jump to the side to
avoid the inferns. The heat around him doubled in intensity. The delver
wondered how the creatures could survive such temperatures. He imagined they
would burst into flames at any moment, and he would not be the least bit
surprised if their tracks left smoldering footprints. He looked to the ground,
and though he could see no scorch marks, he could actually sense the heat from
the floorboards where they had stepped.

The goblins at the table tried to
refocus on their game, tried to pretend that nothing had happened. Their
argument ceased, they placed all their focus on the center of the table as if
hoping that by ignoring the inferns, the half-demons might leave. One goblin
even picked up the shag eyes and attempted to make a roll.

With a flash of speed that
surprised even the delver, the lead infern swung its javelin, and the hot metal
crashed against the goblin's wrist. The metal spear remained firmly in the
infern's hands as the half-demon twisted the weapon with great skill. A wide
hook protruded out slightly below the point of the spear, and the infern
manipulated the javelin to grab the goblin's wrist with the hook. Turning the
weapon downward, the infern jabbed the point into the tabletop, thereby
trapping the goblin's arm and keeping it from completing the intended toss.

The goblin screamed as the hot
metal burned into its forearm. It tried to pull its arm away, but it could not
free its wrist from the javelin's hook. The dark creature squirmed in pain as
it squealed, but even the sounds of it shrieks could not completely cover the
sound of burning goblin flesh hissing from contact with red hot metal.

Ryson found both the sound and the
smell beyond unpleasant. The sickening scene turned his stomach. He couldn't
bare the sight of watching the goblin tortured. He knew it would be beyond
foolish to reveal his delver identity to the inferns, but he could not allow
the attack to continue. Just as he began to pull the war blades from their
sheaths, he held his position.

The lead infern pulled its weapon
away from the table and allowed the goblin to slip its hand free. As its back
was to Ryson, the half-demon never knew the peril it faced from the delver.
Instead, its focus returned to the point of its mission, the reason it entered
the tavern, and to that end, it needed quiet. With the wounded goblin
whimpering but no longer screaming, it looked over the entire group of
diminutive monsters that sat in relative silence.

Ryson slid the half revealed war
blades silently back into their sheaths and carefully stepped away. It was not
his intention to escape the tavern, and so he found a strategic position away
from attention. He needed to gain more information on goblins and inferns in
Ashlan, and the encounter in the tavern offered such an opportunity. No longer
feeling the need to intervene, he could watch and listen from a distance while
safeguarding his own identity.

The humans in the establishment
held no such desire to hear what the infern had to say. They pulled their
chairs in close to their tables as if to gain security from the heavy wooden
surfaces. They turned further away from the encounter—fear overwhelming any
curiosity. If they could have covered their ears without drawing attention to
themselves, they probably all would have clasped their hands at the sides of
their heads.

The half-demon in charge ignored
everything but the goblins. Despite the pulsating heat that surrounded its
form, the infern's voice echoed cold throughout the room, like the constant
push of a winter night's breeze against a frosty window pane.

"Fighting is forbidden."

At first, the goblins did not
reply. They all stared at the table, some couldn't help but squirm in their
seats. They clearly wanted the infern to just go away, but they lacked the
fortitude to make any kind of stand against the half-demon.

"Fighting is forbidden,"
the lead infern repeated, making it clear it expected an explanation.

A goblin smart enough to realize
that if no one spoke they would all be taken decided to attempt an excuse.

"Not fighting.
Gambling." The goblin then pointed to the table. "Gambling
allowed."

"Yes, gambling is allowed,
but not when it leads to conflict. Swords were drawn when I entered.
Instigators?"

The goblin that had refused to pay
four coins decided to make a swift accusation. It pointed to the dark creature
that had swiped two of his coins.

"Thief! Stole from my
stack."

The indicted goblin first narrowed
its stare upon its accuser. Its hand dropped to the handle of its sword, but
one lightning fast swing of the infern's javelin toward its face made it
rethink and regret its decision. The goblin's eyes went wide with fear, knowing
the accusation would hold. It would be taken, but it would not be taken alone.
It pointed right back at the accusing goblin.

"Cheat! Did not pay his loss.
Cheat!"

The other goblins all nodded, as
if emphasizing both accusations.

"Thief and cheat!" one
said.

That was all the infern needed to
hear. The half-demon understood the cause of the disturbance and quickly
rendered a decision.

"Take them both," it
issued the order to the other two inferns.

The two condemned goblins never
had a chance to escape. The inferns moved toward them with speed and agility,
like that of super heated air rising out over a frozen tundra. Black armored
gauntlets knifed toward goblin throats. Thick fingers collapsed all the way
around to the back of their necks causing their eyes to bulge in both fear and
the inability to catch their breath.

The infern guards yanked the
goblins from their seats with one arm, as if the creatures weighed less than a
sack of dried leaves. As the inferns themselves were only slightly taller than
the goblins, they could not pull the monsters completely clear of the tabletop.
It didn't discourage them in any fashion. They simply dragged the dark
creatures across the table, upending mugs and scattering coins across the
floor.

The other goblins fought back the
urge to leap on the ground scrounging for the dispersed money. For that, they
would wait until the inferns left, but for the moment, they remained rigid in
their seats, thankful they were being left alone.

The inferns did, in fact, leave
the tavern with the two squirming goblins in tow. They moved to the door just
as they had entered, with complete disregard for everyone else in the room.

One of the inferns holding a
goblin, however, paused at the door. It never turned about, but Ryson felt
almost as if the half-demon was staring right at him.

The delver prepared to leap down a
narrow hall that led to a side entrance—he noticed it when he first entered the
building—but the need never arose. He felt a great wave of relief when the
infern returned to its indifference and disappeared through the front door.

Ryson allowed several moments to
pass. He was not done in the tavern, as he wished to gain a different
perspective of the event. He watched the crowd and chose his target carefully.
He picked what looked to be a female merchant sitting alone at a small table
for two. She appeared tired and not in the mood for small talk, but to others
in the room, it would appear that Ryson simply decided to introduce himself
anyway.

"Mind if I sit down?"

The woman looked up at him, didn't
smile, but didn't tell him to move on, either. She simply shrugged and looked
down at her stew.

"I wouldn't want to be those
two," Ryson offered, referring to the goblins.

"Neither would I," the
woman replied with a matter-of-fact tone that revealed she was not too impressed
with the stranger's opening line.

"What do you think they'll do
with them?"

"I don't like to think about
it."

"I always wondered why they
even come in here," Ryson pressed.

"They had to. They're not
going to let the goblins fight."

"No, I meant the goblins, not
the inferns. Why are the goblins here?"

The woman just shrugged again, as
if it was simply the way things were. She continued to look down at her meal,
but didn't seem to enthused about eating it. She just stirred it with her
spoon.

"Seems like they're
everywhere," the delver declared while trying to sound both frustrated and
surprised at the same time.

For that, he got a nod. The woman
was certainly not in a talkative mood.

"Do you have to deal with
them a lot?" he asked.

"Everybody has to deal with
them. Part of business."

With that, Ryson was certain the
woman was a local merchant. He had already caught the scent of fresh goods
still on her clothes. He could always pick out merchants that way, especially
general store owners that dealt with a wide array of inventories.

"Yeah, but do they make good
customers?" Ryson pressed.

Ryson finally stirred the woman's
interest. He had found a topic she was more than willing to discuss with
fervent opinion.

"They're terrible customers.
They always argue. They don't bargain. They just argue. And even after you've
agreed to a price, they start arguing again."

"Combative little
creatures," the delver agreed.

"Combative, stubborn, and
dishonest."