Several beer wenches clothed in simple but revealing dresses did move between the tables, bringing beer and food out to customers, but the burly men sitting here treated even them with respect. There was only one tavern in Brightwater, as far as I knew, so I supposed the customers couldn’t afford to be banned.
As I pulled the door closed behind us, I noticed a sign hanging on the wall next to the entrance, so that it would be the first thing patrons see when they entered. I looked at it, but since it was covered in words and I couldn’t read, I ignored it. I was slightly surprised; could all the patrons read? What could possibly be written on it?
“What does that sign say?” I whispered to Amelia on my left. I was trying to be subtle.
Amelia quietly read out loud, standing in front of the sign and not looking at me. She was making it look as if she were reading out for her own benefit only. That was nice of her.
“Tavern Rules:
Weapons will be left at the door beside the coat rack;
Patrons who are violent toward staff will be thrown out and banned;
Patrons who inflict lethal injuries on other patrons will be thrown out and banned;
For minor injuries resulting from fights, see the bar for attention;
For missing limbs, please visit Brightwater Infirmary.”
“I see,” I whispered.
Not quite what I had expected. In Aranor, the taverns simply had a sign next to the door, showing a burly tavern guard beating the shit out of drunken customers. That was usually enough to keep the majority in line. When I saw that the tavern’s patrons treated the beer wenches with respect, I’d thought perhaps they were just better behaved, but it seemed like they weren’t always so docile. If missing limbs were a common enough occurrence to merit a rule on the sign, perhaps the brawls could get a bit out of hand. At least the tavern itself was still in good condition.
I looked around at the patrons. None of them were armed. As the sign had mentioned, there was a coat rack near the door. Cloaks, furs, and heavier coats all hung in a long row along the wall. Underneath were a number of wooden dividers with shields, spears, swords, and axes sitting in between. Judging by the number, at least half the patrons here must be warriors. Obviously they could trust that their equipment would be left untouched. No one would be foolish enough to try to walk off with someone else’s weapons.
I took a look around the busy bar at the men who filled the place. Many of the patrons sitting at the tables looked like warriors. They were burly and tall, often quite tanned. Their eyes had the wary look of hunters, always squinting into the distance at prey. The other patrons were no less heavily built, but they didn’t have the same cautious eyes, nor did their mouths seem like they would form into snarls at the slightest provocation. For these reasons, I assumed they were craftsmen, locals, or travelers.
All the tables were cramped, without a single spare seat, and the group gathered by the bar was three men deep. I glanced over the tavern again, hoping to find some spot where the women and I might be able to eat and drink in peace; we couldn’t exactly stand in the entrance. There was a shadowy spot in the far corner, where there might be some space.
I squinted a little, but the tavern was hazy, and the far corner was difficult to make out. In the shadows, several men were hunched around a large table covered in frothing mugs and what looked like dice, cards, and gaming chips. Just beyond them there was a little table with some space.
“Let’s sit there,” I said to Amelia and Veronica as I motioned at the only empty table, beside the booth.
“Don’t you think that group might be dangerous?” Amelia asked as she looked at the group of gamers. They did look like a rough crowd, but they seemed intent on their game.
“Possibly, but we don’t have to talk to them,” I said. “Besides, we’re all thirsty, hungry, and tired. And that’s the only empty table.”
I noticed Veronica smiling, but she didn’t say anything, just nodded.
All three of us unhooked our swords from our belts ready to put them together in the rack. I placed the shortsword I’d taken from the slaver beside Amelia’s sword, but I kept the dagger I used to draw tattoos; after all, it wasn’t really made to be a weapon, and I didn’t want to leave something so precious behind.
Amelia dropped her shortsword beside mine, and Veronica laid her enchanted sword next to it.
“You’re not worried about it being stolen?” I asked Veronica, looking at the precious blade.
Veronica shook her head. “The mistress of the tavern would murder anyone who dared steal an item from one of her patrons.”
I kept the heavy canvas pack with our dwindling provisions and Amelia’s spellbook on my back as we all started walking toward the corner.
I noticed several of the patrons staring at Amelia and I as we walked past. Most of their noses wrinkled in contempt, but a handful looked at us in appreciation.
Of course. The tattoos. I held my arms against my sides, but the tattoos were pretty obvious. I couldn’t hide them that easily.
“Remind me to get a long-sleeved tunic,” I whispered to Amelia.
“Noted,” she whispered back. “This could get a bit tedious.”
We walked over to the empty table
