LITMIR.BIZ

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the windows were open to the warm afternoon air, despite the acrid smoke which gave a bitter tang to the air. A wagon rolled down towards the city’s southern wall in the distance, but otherwise most of this quarter of the city was still. The boy moved at a good pace and soon he indicated an inn on their right. They nodded their thanks and entered the great room.

      As inns went, it was one of the biggest either Nakor or Miranda had seen, and they had seen quite a few. ‘I don’t remember this inn being so large,’ said Miranda as Nakor peered around the room for someone in charge.

      ‘When was the last time you stayed at an inn in Ylith?’ he asked, spying a serving woman bringing ale to a table in the back room.

      She calculated. ‘About thirty to thirty-five years ago.’

      ‘Things change,’ he said with his usual grin and motioned for her to accompany him through the crowd. ‘Lots of travellers from the Free Cities, Krondor, and Queg must come through here on business in LaMut and Yabon. It was already pretty prosperous when we … left.’ He waved around the room. ‘Lots of business for an enterprising innkeeper.’

      About thirty people cluttered the hall, occupying every seat and every table; they even stood along the walls, which were blessed with a series of waist-high shelves. At the rear of the room they found a servant who looked cheerful despite being nearly overwhelmed by the demand for her services. A plump woman of middle years, she turned and said, ‘I’ll be with you good folks in a moment.’ Then she returned her attention to the four young men she had just served. ‘That’s a silver for four,’ she said.

      ‘Why don’t you wait until we’re done?’ asked one of the young men sitting at the tiny corner table. He was obviously a labourer of some kind, a stonemason’s apprentice, given his large arms and shoulders and the covering of stone dust on the apron he wore over his heavy woollen shirt. His three companions were likewise scruffy and ill-kempt; none of them appeared to have shaved in a week.

      The woman laughed. ‘As crowded as it is, I might not get back here until an hour after you left.’

      ‘Where would we go?’ He waved towards the door. ‘We step outside and one of those watchmen will fetch us back.’

      Trying to keep the tone light, the woman laughed again. ‘Those silly boys?’ Her expression turned serious. ‘I’m sorry, lads, but I have my instructions. Pay as you go.’

      Miranda could smell trouble coming and glanced around the room. The bartender looked burly enough to handle two, even three of these boys, but he was on the other side of the room. She glanced at Nakor, who nodded. The room was packed with people who were tired, bored, irritable and drunk. It was ripe for a brawl or a full-on riot.

      Miranda gently pushed the serving woman aside, leaned over and said, ‘Pay up, that’s a good fellow.’

      ‘I am not your good fellow, woman,’ said the young man with a defiant sneer. ‘I’m a mason from Natal trying to get home after a long job away. I’m a man whose ship was heading south before we reached this miserable city.’ His voice rose. ‘I’m a man who has been shut up in this inn since then, with no way to get home, and I’m in no mood to argue with whores!’ He took a drunken backhanded swing at the serving woman who nimbly stepped aside.

      Her eyes widened and she shouted, ‘Whores!’

      The man was half out of his seat when Miranda reached out, put her hand on his shoulder, and shoved him back into his seat so hard he cried out in pain, the pop of his shoulder joint loud enough to be heard. She continued to squeeze and the effect was instant: his eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but was unable to make a sound save a slight whimper. Colour drained from his face and tears started streaming down his cheeks.

      She released him and turned to the serving woman. ‘You all right?’

      The dumbfounded woman could only nod, and the mason’s three companions backed their chairs against the walls in a futile attempt to put more space between themselves and this insane, but obviously powerful, woman.

      Miranda stared at them. ‘Where do you idiots sleep?’

      One of the gasping man’s companions said in a terrified whisper, ‘Basement.’

      Miranda simply said, ‘Go!’

      All four men struggled quickly to get out of their seats, two of them helping the injured man away. Nakor laughed as they vanished into the crowd. ‘Well, now we can sit down,’ he said.

      As they did so, the serving woman said, ‘Thank you.’ She blinked for a moment like a barn owl caught in lantern-light, then her happy expression returned. ‘What can I get you?’

      ‘What have you to eat?’ asked Miranda as the famished Nakor nodded enthusiastically.

      ‘I’ve some mutton on the spit that’s edible. We’ve almost been eaten bare by this lot. It’s lovely to make coin, but when there’s nothing to buy …’

      Miranda beckoned her closer, then spoke softly. ‘There’s a wagon train from LaMut parked outside the city walls waiting for someone to let them in. Good, fresh food, flour, butter, everything you need. You might want to tell your employer and have him send someone down there to make a deal before the other innkeepers in town find out.’

      The woman brightened and said, ‘Thank you, I’ll tell him straight away!’ Then she leaned over. ‘Got some stew about to finish, and there are a few hot loaves of bread left.’ She gestured over her shoulder. ‘My dad is trying to keep ’em drunk enough to be happy, but not so drunk we can’t keep them in line. Those four from the Free Cities have been complaining all day and most of yesterday, like no one else here is suffering.’ Her smile returned. ‘Drink?’

      ‘Two of whatever you think is best,’ said Nakor.

      ‘Two dwarven ales it is, then,’ she said. ‘Back in a moment.’

      As the serving woman vanished into the crowd a tall figure made his way through the press until he stood before their table. He was blond with pointed ears and broad shoulders and was clad in a dark brown leather tunic, trousers, and boots. He held a long bow which he now placed butt end on the floor in front of them. Smiling quizzically, he said, ‘You always did know how to make an entrance.’

      Both Miranda and Nakor glanced up and then broke into broad smiles. Miranda said, ‘Calis!’

      The son of the Elf Queen and Warleader Tomas of Elvandar leaned forward slightly and said in a lower voice. ‘Aren’t you two supposed to be dead?’

      Nakor laughed, and Miranda motioned for Calis to sit. The blond half-elf, half-human, part-Valheru had been a close friend of both Nakor and Miranda, and for a time much more than friends with her. Nakor had sailed with Calis on a voyage to Novindus in the early stages of the Serpent War, the invasion of the Kingdom by the demon possessing the body of the Emerald Queen. In an odd twist of fate, the Emerald Queen had once been married to Nakor and later became Miranda’s mother.

      Calis sat down and Miranda leaned over to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek; then Nakor shook his hand.

      The serving woman returned with two flagons of ale. ‘Sir?’ she asked Calis who shook his head.

      When she had departed, Calis said, ‘A story, then?’

      Miranda reached out and put her hand on his. ‘I am not who I appear to be.’ She felt a strong sense of affection for this being, and remembered that Miranda and Calis had been lovers for a time before she had met Pug.

      She could feel his fingers tense ever so slightly under her hand, and pressed down lightly in a gesture of reassurance. ‘It is not deceit, nor trickery, but a strange twist of fate which brings us here.’ She glanced at Nakor who nodded.

      ‘If you are not two of my oldest and dearest friends, returned to me, then … ?’

      ‘It’s a long story and hard to believe,’ said Nakor. Grinning, he added, ‘Then again our little band of desperate men saw some things terrible

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