'Huh. Well, I hope that damn blade of yours hasn't managed to get us knee-deep into more than we can handle. Only one way to find out, though.'
The swordswoman kneed her horse into the lead, and the pair rode in through the gates after passing the cursory inspection of a somewhat nervous Gate Guard. He seemed oddly disinclined to climb down from his gatehouse post, being content to pass them through after a scant few moment's scrutiny.
Tarma's ice-blue eyes scanned the area just inside the gate for signs of trouble, and found none. Her brow puckered in puzzlement. 'She'enedra, I find it hard to believe you're wrong, but this is the quietest town I've ever seen. I was expecting blood and rapine in the streets.'
'I'm not mistaken,' Kethry replied in a low, tense voice. 'And there's something very wrong here -- the very quiet is wrong. It's too quiet. There's no one at all on the streets -- no beggars, no whores, no nothing.'
Tarma looked about her with increased alertness. Now that Keth had mentioned it, this looked like an empty town. There were no loiterers to be seen in the vicinity of the trade gate or the inns that clustered about the square just inside it, and that was very odd indeed. No beggars, no thieves, no whores, no strollers, no street musicians -- just the few stablehands and inn servants that had to be outside, leading in the beasts of fellow travelers, lighting lanterns and torches. And those few betook themselves back inside as quickly as was possible. The square of the trade inns was ominously deserted.
'Warrior's Oath! This is blamed spooky! I don't like the look of this, not one bit.'
'Neither do I. Pick us an inn, she'enedra; pick one fast. If the locals don't want to be out-of-doors after sunset, they must have a reason, and I'd rather not be out here either.'
Tarma chose an inn with the sign of a black sheep hanging above the door, and the words (for the benefit of those that could read) 'The Blacke Ewe' painted on the wall beside the door. It looked to be about the right sort for the state of their purses, which were getting a bit on the lean side. They'd been riding the Trade Road north to Valdemar, once again looking for work, when Kethry's geas-forged blade Need had drawn them eastward until they ended up here. The sword had left them pretty much alone except for a twinge or two -- and the incident with the feckless priestess, that had wound up being far more complicated than it had needed to be thanks to the Imp of the Perverse and Tarma's own big mouth. Tarma was beginning to hope that it had settled down.
And then this afternoon, Kethry had nearly fainted when it 'called' with all of its old urgency. They'd obeyed its summons, until it led them at last to Delton.
Tarma saw to the stabling of their beasts; Kethry to bargaining for a room. The innkeeper looked askance at a mage wearing a sword, for those who trafficked in magic seldom carried physical weaponry, but he was openly alarmed by the sight of what trotted at Tarma's heels -- a huge, black, wolflike creature whose shoulders came nearly as high as the swordswoman's waist.
Kethry saw the alarm in his eyes, realized that he had never seen a kyree before, and decided to use his fear as a factor in her bargaining. 'My familiar,' she said nonchalantly, 'and he knows when I'm being cheated.'
The price of their room took a mysterious plunge.
After installing their gear and settling Warrl in their room, they returned to the taproom for supper and information.
If the streets were deserted, the taproom was crowded far past its intended capacity.
Tarma wrinkled her nose at the effluvia of cheap perfume, unwashed bodies, stale food odors and fish-oil lanterns. Kethry appeared not to notice.
Tarma's harsh, hawklike features could be made into a veritable mask of intimidation when she chose to scowl; she did so now. Her ice-cold stare got them two stools and a tiny, round table to themselves. Her harsh voice summoned a harried servant as easily as Kethry could summon a creature of magic. A hand to her knife-hilt and the ostentatious shrugging of the sword slung on her back into a more comfortable position got her speedy service, cleaning her fingernails with her knife got them decent portions and scrubbed plates.
Kethry's frown of worry softened a bit. 'Life has been ever so much easier since I teamed with you, she'enedra,' she chuckled quietly, moving the sides of her robe out of the way so that she could sit comfortably.
'No doubt,' the swordswoman replied with a lifted eyebrow and a quirk to one corner of her mouth. 'Sometimes I wonder how you managed without me.'
'Poorly.' The green eyes winked with mischief.
Their food arrived, and they ate in silence, furtively scanning the crowded room for a likely source of information. When they'd nearly finished, Kethry nodded slightly in the direction of a grizzled mercenary sitting just underneath one of the smoking lanterns. Tarma looked him over carefully; he looked almost drunk enough to talk, but not drunk enough to make trouble, and his companions had just deserted him, leaving seats open on the bench opposite his. He wore a badge, so he was mastered, and so was less likely to pick a fight. They picked up their tankards and moved to take those vacant seats beside him.
He nodded as they sat; warily at Tarma, appreciatively at Kethry.
