Chapter Two:
Chapter Two:
“Toady… come here. I got someone for you to meet.” Soupbone brushed past her before she fully entered the building.
Dandelion grunted while maintaining the grip on her saddle. At least the idiot didn’t treat her like some fragile glass flower, ready to break with the slightest jostle.
Before scolding the grown man for acting like a child, the idiot disappeared out the back door, leaving Dandelion alone in the shabby tavern. She expected more but wasn’t surprised by her meager surroundings.
The eerie, out-of-tune music filling the courtyard must come from a different building. The small tavern was empty. The smell of food did filter into the space. Her stomach growled in protest. If it tasted as good as it smelled, she should have few complaints.
Once Soupbone vanished out the back way, the room grew quiet. Only hushed voices just out of hearing range floated past her. The idiot must have found Toady.
She turned, taking in her surroundings. There wasn’t much to look at. Four tables, each with four chairs, spaced equally about the room. A bare wooden floor—stained dark by years of spills—conveyed a feeling of better times. A long bar up against the back wall protected a rear exit, she assumed that led to the cooking area. Kegs of ale and a few bottles lined the back wall shelves—all over half-empty. Nothing to note that surprised her. Alcohol remained the best escape for the locally disenfranchised. Though it looked like day-drinking wasn’t a thing here. Something kept the desperate locals away.
Inside, there were shutters for the six picture windows facing the plaza, but they didn’t look sturdy enough to stop anyone motivated to enter the joint. If they reached the floor, they would have been the same size as the door. Loose-weaved curtains let in some of the stagnant air while keeping a few of the flying pests at bay. This building wasn’t built for defense. During her brief scan, she spotted no indications of luxury, not even cushions on the straight-backed chairs.
To the left, a rickety set of steps disappeared upstairs, where she assumed there might be four or six rooms. Any more would be a waste of space in this one-horse town. She saw no indication of others stopped in the burg long enough to rest their heads. Chances were good this joint remained empty until an island floated above and blocked out the sun. Under the cover of cool darkness, the locals might risk venturing out long enough to drown their sorrows with the local swill before heading across the way for relief of the flesh or scurrying home. The whole time spent worrying about some unseen death striking them down. Such was the life in these little towns.
With no town palisade and few trustworthy guards, nothing stopped the monsters that hunted the night from wreaking havoc on the unprotected.
Best she could tell, the reason for her being here wasn’t in this tavern. Someone called her to this ruined place. She needed to find out who if she were to have any hope of completing her task.
She cocked her head. Expendable, she thought. No one will miss these people.
The single clang of a pot slapping metal hard broke the brief, peaceful interlude.
Soupbone bounded from the backroom.
Dandelion expected a blade or some other sharp kitchen utensil to follow him out. She was mildly surprised when no further racket erupted from the back room.
A huge male, she assumed he was called Toady, followed at a sedate pace, drying his ham hands on a threadbare apron stained from years of use. The cloth barely covered the belly, lapping over the thick leather belt. A wicked twelve-inch carving knife hung from the belt.
She wasn’t entirely sure what Toady was—certainly not human. Two small tusks jutting from his lower jaw gave away his questionable lineage. Troll—or perhaps ogre—filled one branch of his family tree. At least the impressive ivories drew attention away from the stringy mane of gray hair that struggled to cover his balding head. The dirty tresses were pulled back into an ill-kempt man bun; flyaway strands waved hello with every move.
“Toady, this is Dandelion. She just kicked the shit out of two guards.” Soupbone beamed as if he’d done the fighting.
“They dead?” Toady asked.
“Nope, only they not going to be fighting any time soon.” Soupbone beamed.
The half-man, half-beast, stood at the door. An unimpressed glare was fixed on his face. “Just so you know, say words like that, and I hear we can expect trouble.”
“I hope there is no problem so grave that it might chase away your customers.” She stepped up to the bar. “Your cooking smells good… I’m hungry, but I have no money to pay you.”
The half-ogre turned before she finished the sentence. A throaty growl, the only answer.
Soupbone pulled a draft from the nearest keg and placed it on the bar before her. “Don’t mind him. Lucky you caught him in a good mood.”
She’d hate to see the beast in a foul mood. Her hand held high, she shook her head. “No, thank you. I don’t drink. You happen to have a cool glass of milk back there?”
The idiot raised an eyebrow. “Like mother’s milk?”
She pushed the mug in his direction. “No… If I had a choice, I’d prefer cow’s milk.”
Soupbone shook his head and took a long drink of the ale.
The beast-man brought out a wooden plate of white beans and rice. He let the dish drop the last bit to the counter. The thick sauce proved enough to keep the meal plastered to the plate. “Fine… Why do I need to make a living anyway?”
“I promise to pay you back soon. I plan on coming into some hekels shortly.” She bobbed her head in thanks before shoveling a spoonful of the meal into her mouth. The time since her last meal escaped her—traveling always made her hungry. She was so hungry, her belly was sure her throat had been slit.
The ogre leaned back and watched her eat. “Oh? In that case, make mine gold.”
Soupbone took the ale and retreated out of Toady’s reach. “Me too.”
“Sure thing,” Dandelion grunted around the mouthful.
Toady crossed his arms and watched her eat. “Do you mind sharing how you plan on making your riches? You don’t seem the type to bang on the Harpy’s door looking for work.”
“I tell you, she is smart and a fighter.” Soupbone took another drink of the ale. “She’ll find a way to live…” The idiot took a sip as his misspoken words trailed off.
She paused the shoveling long enough to answer, “No, I don’t make coin lying on my back… But tell you what. Get me a cool glass of milk, and I’ll share in my coming windfall.” She wiggled her eyebrows and smiled.
“You seem cocksure of yourself.” Toady threw a bar towel beside her plate.
She only smiled broader, bean skins sticking to her front teeth.
Soupbone asked, “Can you tell us how you plan on becoming so flush in such short order?”
“Only human nature.” She took another bite of the meal.
“How do you mean?” Toady asked.
She shrugged. “Life has a way of working out for me. The fates brought me here for a reason. I expect soon you will tell me why there is such a heavy cast of dread hanging over this town. Then I will think up some ingenious way to make some coin off the situation.”
“It sounds too easy, like any fool could do it.” Toady glanced toward Soupbone and smiled.
“Easy now.” The idiot slapped his empty mug down on the counter. “Remember, I’m the customer.”
“To my knowledge, the word customer implies you will pay for that… You are more of a freeloader.” Toady shook his head and poured himself an ale. “Lady, tell me. What’s your story?” he asked, returning to his well-worn section of the cabinet.
“I don’t have one.” She shook her head.
She could feel Toady’s eyes watching her every move, sizing the woman up. She didn’t care. The beans were good and held her rapt attention. This conversation bored her anyway.
The barkeep pressed on. “Sure you do. Everyone has a story. Stories are there to help us understand the world. Remind us of who we are.”
“Not much to understand. Most people are garbage. What more do I need to know?” She scraped the last bite into the spoon.
“That’s a dim outlook on life,” Soupbone said.
She used the empty spoon as a pointer. “How do you live in this place and not have the same attitude?”
Toady sighed, “It wasn’t always like this. There was a time it held a prosperous salt mine. Folks made a good living calling this place home.”
“Until your wealth brought in the undesirables.” She nodded. “Some manner of deplorables.”
“Yeah, something like that, but not really. The title of magistrate has been in the Graves family for generations. When the last magistrate mysteriously died, his son Argent took over. He did well enough until he married an outsider woman named Satin… then things became strange but still manageable.”
“Strange how?” she asked.
Toady took a long drink of the ale. “Nothing shattering at first. Bandits started to hit the salt caravans, so taxes were raised to hire more guards. What we thought was simple thievery became an unending rat race. More guards led to more bandits, each side trying to out-kill the other. Moving the salt became more expensive than the cargo. Now the caravans have stopped completely, and the salt mine closed.”
“Then, let me guess, the sisters came to town after the caravans stopped.” She chuckled.
“How did you know?” Soupbone asked.
“It seemed a likely addition to this town’s tale of woe and bad luck. I have found life is nothing but an interrelated stream of seemingly superfluous unconnected events all leading to someone’s untimely death.”
“What kind of bullshit is that?” Soupbone groaned.
She shrugged. “You tell me.”
Toady kept telling the tale, “The temple— That was another shock. One night, the old priest of the Mother disappeared and was replaced with this head priestess of the sisters. His body was later found desiccated in the salt mine—a look of horror plastered on his face. The magistrate investigated and announced the old man died of natural causes. The remaining Ghots fell in with the sisters.”
Soupbone smiled. “Nobody believed the young fool or the younger priestess.”
Toady shook his head. “No… there was what some might call half-hearted protests, but they were short-lived. The rebel leaders turned up with slit throats. That quelled any burning desire for rebellion.”
“And now there is an uneasy truce between the temple and the law. The people of the town stuck between the two sides.” Dandelion took the towel and wiped the meal from her lips, smacking loudly when she was finished.
“Yes.” Soupbone tapped his empty mug on the counter.
“Which is the most powerful group?” she asked.
Toady threatened to backhand the idiot. “I would say the sisters, especially after you took out two of Graves’s men. Though I’m not sure of their numbers. They rarely leave the temple. But they must have more followers. Graves only has a handful. The sisters might have dozens.”
“Perfect.” She patted her saddle. “Can I impose further?”
“How so?” The barkeep stayed leaning against the counter.
“I need a place to keep my gear while I go see these sisters. Best place to look for a job, I think.” She pushed her dirty hair behind her ears.
“No friends in town?” the idiot asked.
“No friends anywhere.” She shook her head. “Never needed them much.”
Toady chuckled. “Maybe you are trying too hard? Have you considered a pet? I find mine most comforting.”
“Happiness is overrated. Personal attachments only serve to make a person soft and vulnerable. Safety and security are better served by traveling alone.” Dandelion tapped her nails on the countertop. She had the beginnings of a plan but needed to wait till darkness came to town. The best schemes work under the protection of the dark.
“You think the sisters are the best place to start?” Soupbone stepped from around the safety of the bar.
“I do. I will see what I can learn about these swine. If they are a real religion or hold some sinister plot for the town.”
Soupbone pulled up short. “Don’t talk bad about pigs. They are normally much better than people.”
She glanced in the fool’s direction. “How so?”
“My wife was a pig.” The idiot crossed his arms. A look of pain washed over his face.
“You married a real pig?” she asked.
He cocked his head. “You don’t expect an idiot to marry a woman, do you? That would be… odd.”
Toady picked up the empty plate. “She was very friendly. Until we ate her.”
“They are smart and loyal.” Soupbone’s eyes glazed over.
Dirty dishes in hand, the barkeep headed toward the back room. “And they taste better roasted.”
“Just remember—it is better to remain silent and be considered a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” The fool shook his fist toward Toady’s back.
Toady shot back, “Yeah, whatever.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she offered. The news should have shocked her more but didn’t. The bizarre revelation seemed to fit in with the town as a whole and the unusual people who called this hamlet home.
“I’m just disappointed it didn’t last longer.” He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. “We were happy—until they ate her.”
“I’m sure you were.” Dandelion had no idea what to say. “We all face disappointment. My mother wanted me to be more ladylike. Look how I turned out…”
Toady leaned against the door frame. “Isn’t this a magical moment?” For his size, the monstrous man moved exceedingly quietly. “You two need a moment alone?”
“Be careful, old man.” Soupbone glared at the tavern owner. He spoke through clenched teeth. “This is my friend… Dandelion leaves are used to cure many illnesses and pain. The yellow flower is a symbol of emotional healing. Since they grow anywhere, they represent overcoming hardship by standing strong and proud. Maybe she is meant to bring us light.”
“You are so full of shit. Maybe she is just lost and in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Toady pushed off from the door.
“If you two need some time…” She glanced toward the window. The sun still shone, but the night quickly approached.
“I think we are good,” Toady said.
Soupbone nodded. “Yeah. We’re good.”
Dandelion moved to the window. The sound of music still softly played from some unknown location. “If you need a shoulder to cry on… look elsewhere. I’m not the emotional type.”
The child’s gasp broke the tension.
She spun around, searching out the intruder. At the back door stood the girl with the black eye. The youth darted back into the kitchen before fully entering the room.
“Friend of yours?” Dandelion asked.
“Kind of. I gave her shelter after her parents passed away.” Toady watched the retreating child.
“What happened?” Dandelion asked.
“Her father died in the mines, some sort of accident that was never fully explained. The mother… she went into the temple seeking comfort and never returned. We assume she is dead.” Toady continued his stare at Dandelion.
“Or she joined the sisters,” Soupbone added.
“No… I doubt that.” Toady shook his head. “She would never leave her child like that.”
“And now you give her shelter?” she asked.
“Her mother helped out around here… after her husband died… I couldn’t let the child live on the streets.” Toady poured himself another ale.
Soupbone slapped his mug on the counter. “And she’d too young for the Harpy.”
“That’s disgusting.” She glared at Soupbone.
“Too much?” Soupbone smiled.
“Please… stop.” She clenched both hands twice to prove her commitment.
Toady ignored the idiot. The huge man-beast took a half-hearted swipe at the idiot’s head. “If she stayed on the streets, she would be dead.”
The idiot must have got the message. He retreated to the windows, out of reach. She moved to a window. The door separated the two.
Dandelion watched the sun as it chased a shadowed line across the courtyard. “Life is simple when someone else decides your time to die—who lives and who dies. I aim to make life simple for others.”
Soupbone said, “Maybe you are here to save her. To be our hero.”
“Who wants to be the hero of such a sad place?” Toady took a drink.
“I’m no hero.” A smile spread over her lips. She spoke out the window, “I’m nobody’s savior.”
Perhaps the opposite.
Toady set his ale on the counter. “I think we are all moved about with little choice about the people we become.”
“And I would suggest life is a matter of balance. Each person must decide how to live their lives.” She turned to watch the barkeeper.
“Powerful words from someone who can defend themselves.” Soupbone returned to the bar, reaching for the wrong mug.
“I wasn’t always a fighter.” Dandelion stepped towards her gear.
Toady swatted away Soupbone’s grab with a paring knife. “You made a choice to become one.”
“Yeah, something like that.” She stopped next to the bar.
“That’s why you are here, to fight?” Soupbone counted his fingers. Finding no bloody stubs, he flexed them one at a time to make sure they still worked.
She lied, “I only wish to learn what is happening in this town and bring about a certain level of peace. No more, no less.”
“And death to anyone who gets in your way?” Soupbone howled.
She didn’t stop the crazy man. Instead, she whispered, “Not really… No women, no kids.”
“I guess everyone needs a sort of code.” Toady finished his ale.
“If you say so.” Soupbone handed over his empty.
“Will you watch my gear?” she asked once more.
“Sure, not like I have anything else to do tonight.” Toady carried the empties in one hand and picked up her saddle with the other. “Just so you know, you end up dead, I’m selling your stuff to cover the cost of the meal.
She bobbed her head. “Seems fair enough… just wait until you see the body. After all, death isn’t always fatal.”