Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (12 page)

"Clear
below!" The man dumped a chamber pot out of the window onto the street
below. The fetid sewage splashed into the street and collected between the
cobbles, running along the sides of the raised walkways.

Grabbing her
brother's hand, Delilah jumped up onto the raised promenade, avoiding a small
stream of nasty-smelling, brown water.

"This
must be the garden spot." Edric pinched his nose closed as they passed
under the building from which the man had dumped his chamber pot.

"These
people really need to get some golguthrons in here. It would be so much
cleaner." Delilah looked around in disgust. "I wonder if we could
convince some to come here to work. I bet we could make a fortune!"

"I
don't think they would be welcome here." Pancras shook his head, stepping
up onto the raised pathway. "Even if they were willing, they don't fare
well under the sun."

Ahead of
them, Kale saw a jagged tree stump. It looked, quite literally, like a giant
had broken the tree in half, leaving behind the part rooted in the ground. A
circular pattern of cobblestones surrounded the tree, and several minotaurs and
humans congregated in groups, conversing amongst themselves. Pancras approached
the group of minotaurs and gestured for Edric, Kale, and Delilah to wait where
they were. When he returned, he pointed to one of the side streets.

"The
Sleeping Viper is that way." He led them down the road, past the smithy.
Kale heard the ringing of a hammer beating metal into shape. A red brick
chimney built into the side of the wooden building spewed black smoke. The
hammering stopped, and the hiss of hot metal plunging into water was audible
even in the street.

Edric stared
at the smithy as they passed. His shoulders seemed to slump. When he noticed
Kale looking at him, he straightened up and looked away.

"Missing
home?"

"A
little, but not because of the smithy." Edric grabbed his waterskin and
took a long drink before wiping his mouth and continuing. "I was just
wondering if my life would've been different if my family had been smiths
instead of traders. My sister and father kept busy traveling all the time while
Mother watched the shop. Perhaps keeping busy in a forge might've kept me out
of trouble." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter now."

"I
don't know." Kale looked back at the smithy. "You could probably
learn to become a smith. You're still pretty young, I think, right? There's
time."

"Aye,
time's aplenty. The spirit is not willing, though."

"We're
here." Delilah tapped Kale's shoulder to get his attention and then
gestured toward the sign ahead. Hung from a pole above an iron-banded oak door,
the rough-hewn sign jutted beyond the building. Kale couldn't read the words on
the sign, but the stylized image of a snake was clear.

Pancras
pushed open the door. A bell jingled as the swinging door pulled a chain
attached to the jamb. Entering the inn, Kale surveyed the dim vestibule.
Well-worn bare, wooden floors were stained with water and ground-in dirt. A
rack with blunted iron hooks was attached to the far wall. The clomping of
hooves on wood heralded the arrival of the Inn's proprietor, a hulking
minotaur, wearing a greasy leather jerkin and kilt Kale thought might once have
been green and blue. Part of one of the minotaur's horns was missing, and on
the same side a gnarled scar drew a pale line down his face and across a
milky-white eye.

He grunted
as he saw the four travelers standing in his vestibule. "What do you want?"

Pancras
cleared his throat. "Lodging."

The scarred
minotaur narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? Who sent you?"

"We
didn't get his name. A drak textile merchant set up outside the main city gates
said you could accommodate us."

"Two
draks, a dwarf, and a minotaur?" The innkeeper looked at each of them in
turn. He grunted again. "I have beds for you. A half-talon per day. Each.
That's for the common room. You're responsible for your own washing, your own
meals. I got beds. That's all."

Pancras
reached into his pouch and pulled out two silver talons. He handed them to the
proprietor.

"Common
room?" Delilah huffed and pushed her way past Pancras to stand toe-to-toe
with the scarred minotaur. "My brother and I want our own room. I'm not
sleeping with them!"

"A
talon a day for private rooms." He turned and ambled down the hall,
pausing to look back at them. "Each."

Pancras
handed him two more talons.

Kale leaned
over to his sister. "This guy's not very happy, is he?"

"None
of your business, Drak. I may not be able to see out of one eye, but I can
still hear just fine."

Edric
chuckled as the minotaur led them toward the back of the inn. A set of rickety
stairs led up. He pointed to a door under the stairwell. "Privy. Your
rooms are up. Take whichever ones you want. No one else is here right now. Keys
are in the locks. Beds should be clean and have fresh linens. If you need
anything, you can call me. I'm Scar."

That's
original
. Kale ascended the steps to the second floor of the inn. They
creaked and groaned with each footfall but felt solid enough. As noisy as the
treads were, Kale did not want to take the rooms closest to the stairway, so he
kept ahead of Pancras and Edric and advanced to the far end of the hall. True
to Scar's word, a key stuck out of the door's lock. He turned the key and
opened the door.

The room was
Spartan. A musty smell pervaded the air, and motes of dust danced in the light
afforded by the window opposite the door. Pushed up against one wall sat a lone
bed, and at the foot of the bed was a three-drawer chest, which stood as tall
as Kale. A basin and pitcher sat on top of the chest. A full log rack sat on
the floor next to the fireplace built into the wall opposite the bed. Delilah
pushed past Kale and hopped up on the bed.

She leaned
over to look out the window. "Not much of a view."

Kale stepped
over to the window. It looked out over an alley, across which a crumbling wall
surrounded an overgrown garden. Holes in the tiled roof of the building to
which the garden belonged allowed Kale to see into the interior. Vines covered
the structure and snaked through the broken windows.

He heard
Pancras clomping around in the room next to theirs.
I suppose it could be
Scar. I won't be able to tell them apart just by listening to them walking
around in the inn.
He opened the window and looked down. He could scale the
wall if he needed to sneak out, but it wouldn't be easy.

"Do you
think we're going to have to stay here all winter?"

Delilah
removed her pack and pulled the books out of it, placing them on the bed.
"I figure Pancras will want to stay here until we learn our way around the
city. We don't want to get trapped out on the plains when it snows, though I
really don't see how staying here will be any better."

"Well,
here, at least we'll have a roof over our heads. If it's cold, we can just
huddle around the fireplace. Out there, we'll have to scrounge for wood, and
it'll be wet—"

"Yeah,
yeah. I know all that." Delilah dismissed his explanations with a wave.
"I just don't want to stay here all winter. It's kind of a dump."

Kale sat
next to his sister on the bed and lowered his voice. "I wouldn't say such
things so loud. Scar will hear you!"

"I'm
not afraid of him."

"I
know. Nothing much scares you, does it?" Kale rested his head on his
sister's shoulder. He closed his eyes. His back ached, and he still felt warmer
than he thought he should, but as long as Delilah was with him, Kale supposed
they would figure things out together.

"Not
much, no." Delilah put her arm around Kale and hugged him. "But I
miss stupid old Sarvesh and blubbery Bargle."

"Me,
too."

"I
don't think we'll ever see them again, Kale."

Kale leaned
into his sister. "Nah, once this business in Muncifer is over, we'll go
home. I bet we'll even get some mighty steeds to speed us home." He
laughed. "I really don't want to walk all the way back."

"I'm
with you there, Brother."

* * *

When Pancras
finished sorting through his pack, he left it on the chest of drawers and left
the room, locking the door behind him. He thought about checking on Edric and
the twins but decided to go downstairs to talk to Scar first. He found the
innkeeper in the kitchen, sitting alone at a small table. Scar held a thin,
black-bladed knife in his hands and carved at a block of wood. Pancras thought
it resembled a horse but couldn't be sure from the doorway.

Scar looked
up from his carving. "What?"

"I
wanted to let you know the accommodations are acceptable and to give you
payment for the next few days in advance, if that's all right. Also, the draks
are sharing a room, if you want to factor that into your calculations."
Pancras entered the kitchen and placed a gold talon on the table.

The other
minotaur grunted. "It's up to you what you do with your money."

Pancras
watched as Scar resumed carving. He stopped after a minute and looked back up
at Pancras. "Do you need something else?"

"No,
not really. I was just wondering about you. Where—"

"Not
your business. I don't know you, and I don't want you to know me. You paid for
rooms. I provided them. That's all we need from each other. Agreed?"

"Yes,
of course." Pancras bowed and backed out of the kitchen. "Good
day."

No wonder
the guard said we could do better.
Pancras ascended the stairs and
proceeded down the hall to Kale and Delilah's room. He knocked on the door and
waited. Patter-clicking clawed feet ran to the door.

It opened
with a jerk. Kale looked up at Pancras. "Hi! What's your room like?"
He opened the door all the way and invited him in.

Looking
around, Pancras smiled at the drak. "Just like this one. I think they're
all the same. I was thinking we should go to the tavern next door, have a few
ales, get some food, and work out a plan for the next few weeks."

"Good
idea." Delilah hopped off the bed. "It'll be nice to eat something we
didn't have to catch and cook."

Pancras
reminded the draks to lock up before they left and went to Edric's room to
gather the dwarf. Together they all went to The Assassin's Dagger. The tavern
seemed quiet from the street. Pancras regarded the image of a dagger burned
into the oaken door before opening it. The common room of the tavern was
narrow, stretching back to the far end of the building. A bar top ran almost
the length of the interior. Round tables filled the room, save for in front of
the hearth, which was left clear to give the tavern keeper room to stoke the
fire. Skulls with clumpy hair of melted wax served as the centerpieces of each
table. Candles atop the skulls provided dim, flickering light, barely adequate
to stave off the darkness.

Behind the
bar, a portly, monolithic human rubbed the bar top with a dirty cloth. He
smiled a gap-toothed grin at the travelers as they entered. "Ah, good, the
first customers of the evening! I am Janek. Welcome! Welcome!" He gestured
to the empty room. "You may sit anywhere you desire."

Janek came
out from behind the bar and waddled toward them as they chose one of the tables
near the hearth. "Ale? Wine? Dwarven spirits?"

Edric's face
lit up. "You have dwarven spirits?"

"Indeed
I do, Master Dwarf. Fine bottles from Dwegerthon. Only the best."

"Ale
for us." Delilah pointed at herself and Kale.

"For
me, as well." Pancras fished a talon out of his pouch and pressed it into
Janek's hand.

"I want
some of those spirits, but I'll need an ale, as well." Edric looked around
the table. "To wash it down!"

Janek
laughed. "Of course, of course. I’ll bring your drinks right out. Now,
Lenka has prepared several fine dishes tonight. We have roasts of beef and lamb
with the last of the summer vegetables, and I think a shepherd's pie."

"Lamb
for me." Eating the meat of bovines made Pancras uncomfortable. Although
minotaurs resembled cows, they weren't actually related to them. Nonetheless,
eating beef was a little too close to cannibalism for Pancras.

"Us,
too!"

Edric
nodded. "Is it lamb or mutton? It seems late for lamb."

"Oh
yes, of course, it is mutton. My apologies." Janek bowed to the dwarf.

"I'll
have beef, then."

"Very
well. I think they're not quite ready, but you're welcome to sit and drink
while Lenka finishes up in the kitchen. Other patrons will be arriving
shortly." Janek bowed to the table and went behind the bar to fetch their
drinks while shouting toward the kitchen that guests were hungry.

By the time
their meals arrived, half the tables were filled. The patrons, a mix of humans
and minotaurs, most of whom were dirty and loud, demanded ale and food. Janek
served them all with a smile and a laugh. The steaming plates of meat and
vegetables on their table smelled of herbs and spices. It was far better than
Pancras expected to find in the working class part of town.