Ren delivered another order of food and booted a drunken troublemaker out the door. To the people around him, he was merely a bigger-than-average barkeep, a large fellow with matted, gnarled hair and a rumpled tunic. That was just the impression Ren wanted to give. He had no desire to confront any assassins until he could confront the one who'd ordered Tempest's murder.
'Hey, big fella!' came a call from the bar. 'Unless I miss my guess, you've got some muscles under those skunk coverings. What do you say you use some of that brawn of yours to bring us some food and a couple more pitchers?' The speaker was one of three women fighters who'd been in the pub together since early afternoon. The three had a catcall or a teasing invitation for almost every man who walked in the door, but they'd also given the boot to more than one of the men who'd made his way to the ladies' table, hoping for a little friendly action.
'No problem, ladies,' said Ren, an amiable grin spreading across his face. The three were impressive. Each was dressed in fine quality chain mail that had seen plenty of use, and all three were bristling with swords, daggers, and throwing axes… also well used. The smallest of the three, a willowy brunette, and the tallest, a big muscular blonde, appeared to take their cues from the third woman, whose salt-and-pepper hair made her appear older. A man might be attracted to any of the three, but to Ren, who had been all but oblivious to women for a full year, all three seemed remarkably attractive, and even more so for their forwardness.
Ren slipped behind the bar and addressed his boss. 'Sot, we've got a food and ale order from
The rotund old innkeeper looked at Ren curiously. The heavy pewter wares at which Ren was pointing were generally reserved for highborn lords or ladies, who occasionally found their way into Phlan's busiest but not necessarily fanciest inn. Something in Ren's expression left no room for argument, however, so the innkeeper obliged. Ren's eyes sparkled with mischief, and he felt a certain warmth inside of him. He had kept to himself for too long. It was past time to blow off a little steam. He backed through the swinging door into the kitchen and barked at the cook. 'Food, friend, and lots of it-on those big metal platters, if you please. Oh, and haul out three of those heavy metal trenchers to serve it in.'
'What're ye thinkin' of, laddie?' the grease-covered cook asked as he spotted the gleam in Ren's eyes.
'Keep an eye out the door after you serve it up and you'll soon see!' Ren replied lightly. The cook was a temperamental man, as feisty as he was short, and Sot tolerated him only because his tasty food was the inn's main draw. Ship captains and traveling merchants alike made a point of visiting the Laughing Goblin Inn when they were in Phlan. Fortunately, Ren had managed to stay on the cook's good side, and he wasn't afraid to ask the man a favor if he knew he could offer a snatch of entertainment in return.
Ren pulled a giant war shield from behind the pantry shelves, a souvenir from a fighter who had tried to leave without paying his bill. A large man, with the skills of a ranger and a thief, Ren had a knack for 'convincing' people to pay their bills. In fact, there hadn't been many who couldn't afford to pay since he'd started working for the inn, and that fact kept Sot more than happy. Ren gripped the shield firmly, then easily ripped the leather handles from it. Then he laid the cook's big oak cutting board on top of it, followed by a linen cloth over the board. 'Now help me load this thing with food, and grab those two tankards I just brought in.'
'Ya big galoot, ya don't think you're gonna lift that mass of metal an' grub by yerself, do ya?'
'I most certainly am,' said Ren.
'Ha!' the cook blurted out after adding the pitchers from the bar to the tray. 'I'll part with a silver if that don't weigh more than me.'
'I hope it does,' said Ren, smiling enigmatically. 'Now, open the door for me, please.'
Ren dragged the shield off the counter and balanced it on his right hand. The cook gasped as he got an indication for the first time of Ren's strength. There were few men as tall as Ren. The cook was sure by the way Ren had to duck under the doorway every time he came into the kitchen that he must be nearly six and a half feet tall. But he had never realized what kind of brawn the big man hid under his sloppy tunic. As Ren hoisted the huge war shield and the many pounds of metal on top of it, his muscles bulged till the loose-fitting tunic pulled tight around his arm, shoulder, and back. He used his left hand to balance the big tray as he stepped out into the crowded inn. The cook followed Ren to the door, shaking his head and reminding himself that he never wanted to get in a fight with this quiet man.
No one in the main hall thought anything of Ren bringing in the tray. None could see all the metal on top. He moved easily through the crowd, stopping at the table where the three fighters were sitting. The big blonde who'd given the order was the first to notice him.
She smiled coyly as he approached and began to tease him about his tardiness. 'It's about time you brought our food. I was beginning to think I'd have to go on a town-council expedition to find you and our grub. The delay could affect your tip, big fellow.'
The brunette slapped the shoulder of the speaker. 'Jensena, I know the tip you have in mind, but he's so smelly, it'd take you a week to get clean.' All three laughed at the jest. Ren merely cocked his head and raised his eyebrows slightly.
The leader of the three, the woman with the salt-and-pepper hair, glanced at Ren over the rim of her cup. 'I expect he could bathe in a hurry if he thought it would get him anywhere. Not only that, I'd wager he could teach you both a thing or two. After all, he's nothing but a tavern tart.' They all broke into peals of laughter. Ren knew he must act quickly or he'd miss his opportunity.
'Wager away, ma'am. I wager your bill for the night against an equal sum that you ladies can't even do ten minutes' worth of the work that I do.'
Throughout the course of the afternoon, the three had racked up a good-sized bill. They answered together without hesitation: 'You're on!'
From his post at the doorway, the cook smiled, knowing what was coming next. That Ren was a bold rascal. He'd have to hand him that.
'Here,' said Ren, holding the tray forward. 'Just see if you can carry this tray and everything on it from here to the bar without dropping it. That should be no problem for any of you ladies-assuming, of course, that you're sober.'
Ren eased the tray down onto the table. Even people at the other end of the bar could hear the groan of the wood as the table bowed under the weight of the huge shield. The three women were now able to see the full metal pitchers of ale, the pewter tableware, platters, and trenchers, and food enough to feed an army. They also spotted the heavy war shield.
The brunette, Gwen, recognized the trick Ren had played on them. Purse-lipped, she started rummaging through a pouch on her belt, looking for some coins to pay the bill and the bet. But her friends weren't so easily daunted.
'Jensena, you're the strongest. Give it a try,' said the older warrior.
Jensena was the biggest of the three, with brawn that would put most men to shame. She tossed her blond braid to the side and flexed her muscles. She had no qualms about showing off her strength, but eyeing the great metal tray, she wondered how even a man the size of the barkeep could have hefted it with one hand. She wasn't at all sure she could raise it even with two, much less carry it from their table to the bar. Nonetheless, she moved to a position beside the platter and stretched her arms and shoulder blades to pull the kinks out. As she did, her well-oiled chain mail rippled across her chest and shoulders, displaying her muscular flesh. Then, straining with everything she had, she slowly began to raise the platter with both hands. The two pitchers started to tip, but Ren reached out in a flash to steady them.
Ren could feel the tension in the air. Virtually all eyes were on him and the three women. His little jest could quickly turn sour on him. These were strangers to the town, proud strangers. He could tell they didn't like the fact that they had been duped by a tavern worker, and Ren was certain there were many other customers who would side with them in a brawl. Even Sot and the cook stood ready with cudgels lest a fight should break out.
'Enough for now, ladies,' Ren said. 'I wouldn't want you to let this perfectly good food and ale go to waste. Eat, drink, have a good time. We can settle our wager later.' With a brief bow, Ren left the table and resumed his duties. The tension level dropped immediately, and soon it was as noisy as ever as the guests in the pub renewed their conversations where they had left off.
When he was sure all was calm once more, Ren returned to the table where the women were still sitting. He moved close to the table and smiled warmly. 'I didn't mean to offend you,' he said quietly. 'I really just wanted
