Magic's Promise

'Thank you, lady,' Valdir said humbly. She snorted, and went back to table-tending.

Valdir had to make his way halfway down the block before he could find an accessway to the alley. He caught a couple of young toughs eyeing him with speculation, but his threadbare state evidently convinced them that he didn't have much to steal -

That, and the insidious little voice in their heads that said Not worth bothering with. He doesn't have anything worth the scuffle.

The alley reeked, and not just of garbage, and he was just as glad that he hadn't eaten since morning. He risked a mage-light, so that he could avoid stepping in anything - and when it became evident that there were places he couldn't do that, he risked a little more magic to give him a clean spot or two to use as stepping stones.

Kind of funny, he thought, stretching carefully over a puddle of stale urine. It was because I couldn't face situations like this that I never ran away to become a minstrel. And now, here I am - enacting one of my own nightmares. Funny.

He finally found the back door of The Green Man and pushed it open. The kitchen, also, was relatively clean, but he didn't get to see much of it, because a giantess blocked his view almost immediately.

If she was less than six feet tall, Valdir would have been surprised. The sleeves of her sweat-stained linen shirt were rolled up almost to the shoulder, leaving bare arms of corded muscle Jervis would have envied. She wore breeches rather than skirts, which may have been a practical consideration, since enough materials to make her a skirt would have made a considerable dent in a lean clothing budget. Her graying brown hair was cut shorter than Valdir's. And no one would ever notice her face - not when confronted with the scar that ran from left temple to right jawbone.

'An' what d'you want?' she asked, her voice a dangerous-sounding growl.

'The - the usual,' faltered Valdir. 'A place, milady ... a place for a poor songster. ...'

'A place. Food and drink and a place to sleep in return for some share of whatever paltry coppers ye manage to garner,' the woman rumbled disgustedly. 'Aye, and a chance t' run off with one o' me girls when me back's turned. Not likely, boy. And ye'd better find yerself somewhere else t' caterwaul; there ain't an inn on th' Row that needs a rhymester.'

Valdir made his eyes large and sad, and plucked at the woman's sleeve as she turned away. 'My lady, please - ' he begged shamelessly. 'I'm new-come, with scarce enough coppers to buy a crust. I pledge you, lady, I would treat your other ladies as sisters.'

She rounded on him. 'Oh, ye would, would you? Gull someone else! If ye're new - come, then get ye new- gone!'

'Lady,' he whimpered, ducking her threatened blow. 'Lady, I swear – lady - I'm-' he let his voice sink to a low, half-shamed whisper, ' - lady, your maids are safe with me! More than safe - I'm - shaych. There are few places open for such as I -'

She stared, she gaped, and then she grinned. ' Struth! Ye could be at that, that pretty face an' all! Shaych! I like that!' She propelled him into the kitchen with a hand like a slab of bacon. “All right, I give ye a chance! Two meals an' a place on th' floor for half yer takin's.'

He knew he had to put up at least the appearance of bargaining - but not much, or he'd cast doubt on his disguise. 'Three meals,' he said, desperately, 'and a quarter.''

She glared at him. 'Ye try me,' she said warningly. 'Ye try me temper, pretty boy. Three an' half.'

'Three and half,' he agreed, timidly.

'Done. An' don't think t' cheat me; me girls be checkin' ye right regular. Now - list. I got armsmen here, mostly. I want lively stuff; things as put 'em in mind that me girls serve more'n ale. None of yer long-winded ballads, nor sticky love songs, nor yet nothin' melancholy. Not less'n they asks for it. An' if it be melancholy, ye make 'em cry, ye hear? Make 'em cry so's me girls an' me drink can give 'em a bit 'o comfort. Got that?'

'Aye, lady,' he whispered.

'Don't ye go lookin' fer a bedmate 'mongst them lads, neither. They wants that, there's the Page, an' that's where they go. We got us agreements on the Row. I don' sell boys, an' I don' let in streetboys; the Page don' sell girls.'

'Aye, lady.'

'Ye start yer plunkin' at sundown when I open, an' ye finish when I close. Rest of th' time's yer own. Get yer meals in th' kitchen, sleep in th' common room after closin'.'

'Aye, lady.'