“It’ll be two silvers,” she says as she sets the tray down. When it doesn’t look as if she’s going to remove the mugs, they quickly snatch them off. Jiron hands her the silvers and before she can depart, nods to Reilin.
“Uh, we were wondering…” he begins and then trails off as she turns her face toward him.
“What?” she asks.
Clearing his throat, he begins again. “We were wondering if there was a chance to have some female company?”
She eyes him a moment and says, “I don’t get off for a couple hours. But if you hang around I’ll be available then.”
Reilin’s eyes widen at the misunderstanding and he stammers, “Uh we don’t have that much time. Gryll said there was a certain girl that works here that always took care of him.”
“He did, did he?” she asks.
“Yes, he did,” he replies. “I don’t suppose she would be available.”
“Hmmm,” she says as she mulls it over, “the only one I can think of who he might mean is my sister.” Then her face creases into a frown and a moment later anger begins to work its way across her face. “So, he dallied with my sister did he?”
Reilin is astounded by what she said. He can’t for the life of him imagine anyone would wish to spend time with this woman’s sister. The others glance at him, wondering what he might have said to elicit such a response.
With a roar she yells, “I’ll kill him!” Picking up the tray she flings it across the room with such force as to embed it in the wall. Smashing her right fist onto their table in anger, Reilin’s amazed to hear the wood crack beneath her blow. When she raises her fist, the edge of the table is drooping slightly.
Then she turns her attention back to Reilin. “So you would think to dally with my sister too?” she asks. The eyes of the entire room are now directed at their table.
“What’s going on?” asks Jiron.
Reilin turns to him and says, “It’s all a misunderstanding. She thinks…” He’s forced to leave his sentence unfinished when she grabs him by the front of his tunic and yanks him to his feet by her left hand. Cocking back her right to strike him, she’s knocked to the floor as Scar leaps from his seat and tackles her before she can complete the blow.
Twisting as she falls, she takes him by the shoulders and once her back slams into the floor, knees him between the legs. With an ‘oof’ he rolls off her. Then she grabs Reilin’s leg and trips him to the floor. Getting up on one knee, she strikes out at Reilin and hits him in the side.
“Reilin, what did you say to her?” yells Jiron as he comes to his feet. Just then, a hand grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around where he’s struck on the chin. Knocked off his feet, his back slams into the table and smashes it on his way to the floor.
Stig jumps up and connects with the jaw of the man who struck Jiron, sending him stumbling backward into another table. Reaching down a hand to help Jiron up, he gets jumped by yet another man who kidney punches him hard. Striking out behind him with his elbow, he has the satisfaction of feeling it connect solidly with the man’s midriff. “Come on man,” he says to Jiron with a grin. “Don’t just lie there!” Turning, he lashes out at the man as he comes back for another attack.
The place erupts into a full scale brawl. Chairs fly, mugs and tankards are used as projectiles. Jiron and the others hold the center of the tavern and the perimeter surrounding them is strewn with broken chairs, tables and unconscious bodies.
Reilin is still engaged with the woman and looks to be getting the worse of it. Blood drips from his nose and a goose egg sized lump is forming on the side of his head where one of the flying mugs connected with him when he tried to stand and get away from the woman.
The pit fighters are in their element. None are able to close with them without being pummeled hard. All the frustration Jiron has kept bottled up during the search for Tinok has been released and he feels better than he has in a long time.
Suddenly from the right, Shorty jumps back and cries out as a knife leaves a three inch long shallow cut across his forearm. A lull develops in the brawl as both sides size the other up. What once was a friendly fight has evolved into something more.
Weapons are now held in the hands of many of those who stand against them. One, the man who had been behind the bar, holds a crossbow leveled directly at them. He shouts something at the woman who now has Reilin in a strangle hold. When she doesn’t respond, he nods for two of the men to come and drag her out of there.
When they get her off of Reilin, Jiron asks him, “You okay?”
“I’ll live,” he says then takes in the situation. “If we get out of here that is.”
The barman with the crossbow begins talking to them and Reilin translates. “You picked the wrong place to mess around in,” he says. “We don’t take kindly to troublemakers.”
“We’ll pay for the damages and just go,” Jiron says. Any chance of learning more about the necklace here is gone.
“No, I don’t think so,” he replies.
Jiron sees Shorty standing next to him and nods to the innkeeper. “You got him?” he asks.
“No problem,” he replies in a barely heard whisper.
The barman raises his crossbow and aims it directly at Jiron.
“Kill them!” screams the woman who’s being restrained from attacking them by two men.
“Now,” Jiron says.
Before the barman has a chance to release the crossbow bolt, one of Shorty’s throwing knives embeds itself in his chest. Looking down at the handle sticking out of his chest as if wondering how it got there, he staggers and then topples over.
Without hesitating, Jiron draws both knives and leaps at the man across from him. Even though the man’s sword is out of its scabbard and in his hand, the unexpected move by Jiron catches him totally off guard. Bringing his sword up too late, he fails to block the thrust that takes him through the throat. Kicking out, Jiron knocks the man off his knife as he moves to the next. With a cry, the other pit fighters draw their weapons and the battle is joined.
Leaping up atop a table, Shorty pulls forth a throwing knife, takes aim and releases. The knife sails through the air and penetrates a man’s chest to the hilt. By the time the man begins to fall, another knife has already left Shorty’s hand with deadly results.
Two men with swords and another with a knife rush Scar and Potbelly. The first one falls to Scar’s swords before he even realizes what he’s facing. Potbelly then takes the one on the right and Scar the one on the left. With his knife, Potbelly deflects aside his opponent’s thrust while striking out with a slash of his own. He feels his blade connect with the man’s thigh. As the man’s leg gives way due to the severed muscles, Potbelly kicks out with his foot and connects with his face, sending him stumbling backward.
Reilin blocks a downward thrust and sees the sword of another man coming at him when Stig’s mace strikes the blade, breaking it in half. “Thanks,” Reilin says as he blocks another strike by his opponent. Stig nods his head and engages another.
Faced with the deadly skill of the pit fighters, not to mention the fact that they have already mowed down half the people there, the rest of the patrons of the tavern begin to flee. Once the first person breaks off and races for the door, the rest of them quickly follow.
Reilin sees the woman running out the back door of the tavern. “Jiron!” he yells getting Jiron’s attention. Indicating the open door where the woman fled, he says, “Her sister is the one we need to talk to.”
With a nod, Jiron hollers, “After her!” Kicking out with his foot, he sends his opponent reeling backward then races to follow her. One man stands between him and the door. When he sees Jiron coming toward him, he dives out of the way rather than face his knives.
Jiron hits the doorway with the others right behind. As Shorty is about to pass through, he glances back at the grisly scene behind them. Fifteen men lay either dead or wounded, ten tables lie broken and tipped over, blood is everywhere. Then he runs to catch up with the others.
Racing down the hallway on the other side of the door, Jiron sees her flee out the door at the end of the hall. Lining the hallway are doors, most are closed but a few are open. Within are people in the throes of biloci. Either lying on beds or on top of blankets laid out across the floor, they are oblivious to the carnage in the other
