hinged black iron hoods.
Still, after the gloom outside, she might almost have found the place welcoming, if not for the way all the surly-looking patrons-humans, orcs, towering, dog-faced gnolls, and horned, scaly, diminutive kobolds-turned to stare at her. It was disheartening. An inn, by definition, catered to wayfarers. To strangers. Yet even mere, something about the way she looked or carried herself instantly branded her an outsider.
Well, to Fury's Heart with it. She'd be damned if she'd let a pack of ruffians make her feel self-conscious just for looking like a righteous, law-abiding person. She returned sneer for sneer, then strode toward an empty table.
Until something flitted across her field of vision, then hovered in front of her face. She found herself nose to snout with a tiny dragon or wyvern, its wings shimmering, beating fast as a hummingbird's, its skinny body only a trifle longer than her middle finger. Startled, she recoiled, and the onlookers laughed at her discomfiture.
Their mirth made her flush with anger, and the miniature dragon's scrutiny made her wary. It scarcely seemed large enough to pose a threat, yet it might possess a nasty bite or sting or even the capacity to puff flame or poison into her eyes.
She lifted her hand to swat it away, and a bass voice rapped, 'Don't.'
She froze, the winged reptile whirled past her and away, and she looked around. A handsome man was smiling back at her. His barbered hair and eyes were black, and his skin was dark in a way that owed nothing to the touch of the sun. His purple velvet breeches and tunic were cut tight, the better, perhaps, to flatter his slender frame, save for exceptionally baggy sleeves that hung all the way down over his knuckles. Looking more like a child's toy than an actual weapon, a dainty hand crossbow dangled from a double-looped scarlet belt with a gold buckle.
More tiny dragons fluttered all around him, as if they were bees, and he, a particularly succulent flower. Miri experienced a sudden, unpleasant mental image of all the creatures swarming on a victim simultaneously. How could any one person defend against such an assault, no matter how adroit an archer or fencer she might be?
'Please don't hit my eye,' the dark man continued. 'You wouldn't like it if I hit you in one of yours.'
'I won't,' Miri answered. 'The beast surprised me is all.'
'No harm done.' He sketched a bow, elegant and perfunctory at the same time. 'I'm Melder. Welcome to the Door.' He grinned and added, 'My instincts tell me you haven't come in search of accommodations.'
'No,' she said, 'just beer.'
'Ah. We have a good ale brewed hereabouts, a fine dark lager from Theymarsh, and-'
'The local stuff will do. Perhaps you'll lift a tankard with me.'
'You honor me. Please be seated, and I'll return in a trice.'
She did as he'd bade her, then divided her attention between watching her fellow patrons, who were gradually returning to the murmured conversations her arrival had interrupted, and the little reptiles flying about. They wandered wherever they wished, and even the drunkest and most brutish-looking guests resisted the impulse to slap them away.
Melder sat two foaming leather jacks on the table, then sat down across from her.
'My small friends interest you,' he said.
'They're beautiful,' she replied.
'They're certainly the prettiest things in this dank old place, or were until a few moments ago,' he said with a smile. 'They keep the bugs and rats down, too. I believe I introduced myself, but I didn't catch your name.'
'Miri Buckman.'
'A lovely name. It fits you. And what, dear Miri, brings you below? You have a sensible look about you. Tell me you aren't simply indulging your curiosity, that you aren't one of those fools who think no visit to wicked Oeble complete without an excursion into the Underways.'
She sipped her ale. He was right, it was good, the flavor hearty and not too bitter.
'Suppose I came down here to do some business,' she said. 'Could you point me to the right person?'
He chuckled.
Miri felt a pang of irritation and asked, 'What's funny about that?'
'Please, forgive me,' Melder said. 'It's just that one doesn't rush these conversations. The parties generally sample a drink or three, chatting of nothing in particular, acquiring a sense of one another, before anyone broaches the actual point of the discussion. I suspect you know better, you tried to play the game, but your impatience betrayed you.'
She knew what he meant. Out in the wild, she would have been more circumspect. She'd once reveled with a tribe of centaurs for three days and nights, satisfying all their elaborate rituals of hospitality, before so much as mentioning the reason for her visit to their camp. But Oeble, and her current dilemma, made her twitchy.
'I haven't much time,' she said, 'or at least I fear I haven't.'
'I understand,' he said. 'For all you know, the precious saddlebag has already left town.'
Miri glared at him and said, 'You knew who I was from the start.'
Melder shrugged. 'I didn't know your name, but people are naturally talking about a robbery inside the Paeraddyn and the ranger tramping around town trying to trace the surviving thief. What was in the pouch, anyway?'
'I don't know, myself.'
He grinned, his teeth a flash of white in his swarthy face. A tiny green dragon settled on his shoulder for a moment, almost as if whispering in his ear, then flew away.
'You're a bad liar,' he said, 'probably because you haven't learned to enjoy it. If I knew what you're looking for, perhaps I could help you find it.'
And maybe, she thought, you'd covet it for yourself.
Miri asked, 'Are you willing to help me?'
'Well, it all depends. I make a tolerable living from the Door, and as you can imagine, my guests don't rest their heads here because I have a reputation for tattling. Still, it's conceivable you could persuade me to be of some assistance, comely as you are. Grubby from the road, of course, but a bath would fix that.'
She made a spitting sound then said, 'Apparently you haven't known many rangers, at least not of my guild. We don't pay for anything that way.'
'A pity. If you exploited them properly, like a sensible lass, your charms could be a mightier weapon than that bow.'
'Forget it. I am willing to pay a hundred Sembian nobles if you furnish information that leads me to what I seek.'
'Perhaps some gold up front would serve to jog my memory or sharpen my wits.'
'Ever since I started poking around,' said Miri, 'folk have been hinting they can help me, then they ask for coin in advance. Had I heeded them, my purse would be empty already. I'll pay you when I recover what was in the saddlebag, not before.'
'And how, sweet Miri, do I know that I can trust you?'
'Because I swear it by Our Lady of the Forest.'
He laughed and said, 'Your vow. Delightful.'
She glowered at him then asked, 'Can you help me or not?'
'I assume you took a good look at the three thieves who died.'
'Yes.'
'Describe them.'
She did, and based on his expression asked, 'You recognize them?'
'I believe so, though I didn't know them well. Their names were Gavath, Kerridi, and Dal.'
She felt a thrill of excitement.
'What gang did they belong to?' she asked.
Melder shook his head and answered, 'None. They were petty operators, really, gleaning what the gangs don't bother to take.'
'I don't see how four such little fish, working strictly by themselves, could have conceived an elaborate plan to steal the saddlebag as soon as it reached Oeble. They wouldn't even have known it was coming. Somebody must have hired them to seize it.'
'That would be my guess,' Melder said. 'Have you any notion who that person might have been?'
