short, Roland and I had to go and find them when they didn’t return. Seems they ran afoul of a woman and her old mother who somehow managed to get them into the basement of their house and tied them up.”
He pauses a moment and then looks to Jiron. “You never actually told me how you got down there,” he says.
“Frankly James,” he says, “I don’t remember.” The blush that comes to his cheeks tells him that he probably does.
“Right,” replies James with a little sarcastic tone to his voice.
Miko grins and Reilin actually breaks out into laughter at Jiron’s and the other’s expense. Jiron casts him a dirty look and he brings his amusement under control.
By this time they’ve come close to the gates of the city. The traffic moving in and out is quite heavy for this time of the day. They make their way closer to the gate and take their place in line. Somewhere behind the walls is a man named Azku and Jiron intends to find this man before the sun rises the following morning.
The line entering the city continues to move forward until they are but a few people away from the gate. When it’s their turn to pass through, a squad of guards exits from within the city. All of a sudden they are surrounded by guards and James is about ready to panic. Then Jiron shakes his head telling him not to worry. The guards are merely there to relieve the ones who were on duty. Paying those in line little attention, the new arrivals take position while the ones being relieved form up to march back inside. James and the others pass through the gate quickly and into the city before the changing of the guard can be completed.
“Better find an inn first so the rest of us can be out of sight while you go in search of this Azku,” suggests James.
“Very well,” he says and starts scanning the streets for any sign of an inn. When he comes across a three story building bearing a sign depicting a winged bird in flight, he comes to a stop out front. He and the others wait while Reilin enters to see about getting the rooms.
They don’t have long to wait before Reilin makes his appearance back out the front door. He holds up the keys showing them he got the rooms. Then they take the horses around back to the stables and are soon up in their rooms.
Dinner is still a couple hours away so Jiron suggests that he take Reilin and see about locating The Cracked Ladle. James tells him to take Stig along just in case and the three of them leave on their hunt.
Jiron hits the stairs down to the common room almost at a run in his impatience. “Hey,” Stig cautions, “not so fast. We don’t want to draw any attention.”
Jiron holds back several choice words about unwanted attention, but heeds Stig’s warning and slows down. Once in the common room they make their way through the tables toward the door. Several of the tables have men and women taking their ease during the heat of early evening. One of the ladies gives Jiron a slight grin and a wink. If he wasn’t so intent on finding out what this man knows about Tinok, he might have paused. But then thoughts of Aleya come to mind and any errant thought he has about the woman in the common room vanishes like a breeze.
They exit through the door and come to a stop in the street. Unsure where the Cracked Ladle lies, Jiron has Reilin ask one of the passersby. Luck is with them and the man is able to give them directions. He points down the street they are currently on and tells them to continue for six blocks, then to take a right. And that’s where his memory gets a little hazy. “It borders on a plaza that has a three tiered fountain,” he says. “You can’t miss it, it’s the only public fountain here in Morac. Also, atop the uppermost tier of the fountain lies a statue of Aziki.”
“Aziki?” asks Reilin. The man looks at him odd that he wouldn’t know who Aziki is. “Oh yeah, right,” he says to the man then thanks him for his help. He indicates to Jiron and Stig that he’s got the directions and leaves the man standing there as he rejoins the others. Glancing back, he sees the man still standing there looking at him oddly. Wonder who this Aziki is?
Leading the others, he takes them down six blocks and then turns right down a cross street. “Somewhere in this area is a fountain with a statue of someone on top of it,” he tells them. “The Cracked Ladle borders the plaza.”
“Excellent,” says Jiron. They continue down a few more blocks and at each intersection of streets they come to they scan down the cross streets for the fountain. The first two intersections yield nothing, but at the third when they look down to the left, they see over the heads of the crowds on the streets, a statue of a warrior.
“That must be it,” Reilin observes.
“Let’s hope so,” Stig says.
Moving down the street to their left, they work their way through the crowds until the street opens onto the plaza the man had described. The splash of water can be heard as it cascades over the tiers of the fountain. It’s actually quite large and children, some of them naked, are playing in the water.
The buildings bordering the plaza all look fairly identical. Most appear to be open markets where many people are currently looking over goods or sitting at tables having a drink or a meal.
“Which one is it?” Stig asks.
“The name indicates an eatery,” Jiron replies. “Let’s make our way around the plaza and see if there’s a sign hanging out front of one of them that may tell us.”
Moving through the crowds, they work their way from one shop to the next. By the time they have made a complete circle and come back to where they started, no sign indicating a Cracked Ladle could be seen.
“Go ask someone,” Jiron finally tells Reilin.
Nodding, Reilin goes to one of the men passing by and asks, “Excuse me sir, could you tell me which one of these establishments is the Cracked Ladle?”
The man stops and peers at him through squinted eyes as if he’s unable to see well. “The Cracked Ladle you say?” he asks. Casting his eyes around the plaza, they finally stop at one with a red tapestry bearing the design of a sword hanging next to the door. “I believe that is the one there.”
“Thank you good sir,” Reilin says before the man walks away. Returning to the others, he indicates the door with the red banner and says, “It’s that one.”
“Doesn’t look like an eatery,” Stig says.
“No, it doesn’t,” agrees Jiron. Turning to Reilin he asks, “Are you sure that’s the one the man told you?”
Nodding, Reilin replies, “Absolutely.”
“Very well then,” Jiron says. Moving out, he crosses the plaza toward the door next to the red banner. Coming up to it, he takes hold of the handle and pushes it open.
On the other side they find a wide hallway extending further back. Lining the hallway are six suits of armor three to a side, each one from a different nation or era. “I don’t think this place is an eatery,” whispers Reilin when he sees the armor.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Jiron says as he passes through the doorway. His feet echo off the hardwood floor. Gazing down at it, he suddenly realizes whatever this place is, it has money. A floor like this, especially in this part of the world, had to have cost a fortune.
Just after the six suits of armor, the hallway ends at an open archway. On the other side is a large room, richly furnished. Couches, chairs and tables are spaced in such a way as to afford at least a small amount of privacy to those using them. Rugs line the floor and tapestries hang along the walls. Not cheap ones, these look to be made of fine cloth by master artisans. A few statues sprinkled here and there give the room an even added touch of elegance.
The room is empty but for a lone gentleman sitting at one of the tables reading a book. As they enter the room the man looks up from his reading, his expression is one of irritation. His eyes never leave them as Jiron comes to a stop just within the room.
He looks at the man then glances around the room in the hopes of someone else making an appearance that they could deal with. When after a minute of fruitless waiting, he sighs and begins walking over to the man.
Reilin walks at his side and notices the man’s mood turns darker when he realizes they mean to approach him. “Good day,” Reilin greets the man as they reach the table. Coming to a stop, they give the man a slight, respectful bow in the hopes of mellowing out his mood.
Unresponsive, the man continues to glare at them.
“We were hoping you could tell us if this is in fact the Cracked Ladle?” Reilin asks.
The man’s eyes flick from one to the other. He closes his book and sets it on the table before him. “It is,” he replies.
