“Miss!” the woman repeated and nudged her friend. “They look a bit young for me.”
“Yeah, but Emm could handle them,” the other woman said then pulled the girl forward to the very edge of the balcony. “Whatcha think Emm?”
The girl was young; though at second glance she was probably older than Gwaynn’s first estimation, close to his age, if not a bit younger. She smiled down at them, a little shyly. Gwaynn guessed she was either very new at the trade, or very experienced, because her smile was full of innocence, either true or manufactured. They said nothing more, just smiled and walked into the tavern, but Krys turned to have another quick look at Emm and to his delight she was still looking down at him, smiling.
They entered the noisy, crowded tavern and made their way with difficulty up to the bar. Like the tavern in Bern this one seemed completely devoid of Deutzani soldiers, though they had passed several large groups of them on their way to the center of town. But unlike the tavern in Bern, this one was packed with people, men, women and even some boys, who appeared to be doing most of the cleaning and picking up after the wide variety of patrons. Gwaynn guessed that most of the crowd consisted of either loggers or trappers from up on the Plateau. But there were also a few men dressed more like local merchants or businessmen, though from the shadier side of town to be sure. Nearly all the men present were either drinking, eating or gambling, or some combination of the three; while most of the women were of the working class variety, and seemed to be spending much of their time either serving the men, or sitting with them in an attempt to part them from their money, either with drink, food or sexual attention.
When they reached the bar, they found it packed with a line of drinkers so serious about the endeavor that they didn’t want to be bothered with a table. The two young men paused to take in the wild atmosphere around them. Gwaynn looked over at Krys, who was smiling ear to ear, and Gwaynn had an idea that his face was a mirror image, and quickly sobered up. He nudged Krys, who turned to him still smiling.
“Ever been in a busy tavern before?” he asked, and Krys looked at him quizzically.
“That smile you’re wearing might attract a little attention. People will think we’re strangers to these parts,” he added then moved in to fill a hole at the bar as it unexpectedly opened up. Krys nodded and stopped smiling, but continued to gawk at all the activity around him.
It took several moments before a woman at the bar finally made her way down to Gwaynn.
“We need a room,” he informed her, having to raise his voice to be heard over the noise of the crowd.
The woman gave him a knowing smile. “How long ya need, sweetheart?”
Gwaynn smiled back. “For the night,” he answered and she made a shrugging motion, and then pointed to the door behind them and to the left.
“Through there,” she shouted. “Go to the desk.”
Gwaynn nodded, and they moved out of the tavern and into a relatively quiet back room. They crossed it and entered a hallway, which led to a quieter lounge area where only a few people were sitting about in large cushioned chairs. There was an elderly gentleman behind a large cherry wood desk, who helped them, took their money and even showed them to their room on the third floor, almost directly above the tavern.
“See to our horses,” Gwaynn said frankly. “They are directly in front of the tavern, a black and a large gray.”
“Of course, sir,” the old man nodded and kept his eyes averted, but they darted about taking in every detail of the two young men. Neither Gwaynn nor Krys noticed the covert looks of the old man as he kept a close eye on the coin purse tied at Gwaynn’s waist. The room was small, but with a solid door and even though there was a floor between the two, the noise of the tavern filtered clearly into the space above. Though the room was modest, it was clean, had two beds and a table with a pitcher of water, and between the beds was a single bedpan.
There was no thought of not heading back down to the tavern, after all they were both young, hungry, and the possibility of sleep at this point was non-existent. So they left their packs with their kali inside, locked their door and made their way back down stairs. They passed the rooms on the second floor, which were reserved for shorter stays, with just a touch of curiosity and envy. But neither voiced such thoughts.
Despite leaving their main weapon’s upstairs, each carried a pair of six-inch knives. Gwaynn placed one in a modest sheath at the small of his back and another in a specially made holder in his right boot. Unless he came across a particularly well-trained soldier he felt sure the knives along with his ability at hand-to-hand would suffice in protection.
When they reentered the tavern, the noise was still just as loud, and though Gwaynn did not notice her, the first person Krys saw was Emm, near one corner. She was standing next to an empty table talking earnestly with the old man who had showed them their rooms. Krys kept an eye on her as they entered and it wasn’t long before the man left, skirting around them just as Emm caught Gwaynn’s eye and called them over. Gwaynn shook his head at her, and began to move toward the bar, when Krys caught his arm.
“Come on,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. Gwaynn frowned at his friend, and then took another quick look at the girl. She was attractive in a mousy sort of way, very thin and petite, with light brown hair that was pulled back from her face and sprouting out of the back of her head in a pair of long braids. She also sported a small nose covered in light freckles and large brown eyes. She smiled at them and waved at them more emphatically.
“She has a table,” Krys added without even wondering how a small young girl like her could have commandeered a table on her own in such a crowded place.
“You know what she is?” Gwaynn asked.
Krys scowled for a moment but then smiled sheepishly. “She’s company, and besides not all of us can attract the attention of Vio Valencia.”
It was Gwaynn’s turn to scowl, but he did so as they moved over to the girl and the table.
“I did not have Vio,” he demanded.
“You could have,” Krys snapped back not even trying to hide the hint of jealousy and admiration in his voice.
His tone caused Gwaynn to pause and considered his relation to his young girl friend on Noble. “Perhaps,” he answered, smiling as he remembered Vio’s attraction to him.
“Perhaps,” Krys mimicked, but then fell quiet as they came up on the table and the girl.
“I’m glad you came,” she said and Gwaynn rolled his eyes.
They all sat, Emm moved in close to Krys, his attraction to her was obvious unlike his friend’s sullen demeanor.
“Is this your first time to Manse?” She asked.
“Does it show?” Krys asked in return and Gwaynn rolled his eyes again.
The girl giggled on cue, then held out her hand. “I’m Emm,” she said, and Gwaynn had to give her credit; she was soft, smelled wonderful and her eyes sparkled at each of them.
“Gwaynn,” he said, trying hard not to admit to himself that he enjoy the way her hand felt in his.
“Krys,” his friend added also taking her hand, and holding it far longer.
They sat silently for a while, Gwaynn glancing about at those nearest him, feeling a bit uncomfortable with so many people behind him.
“Here we are,” a woman said as she placed a pan of steaming meat and potatoes on the table, along with four plates. Gwaynn frowned at the number of plates, and was still frowning when the woman returned with four tankards containing a light brown, sour smelling, ale.
“Name’s Dot,” the woman said sitting without being asked. She scooted in so close to Gwaynn that their legs could not help but touch. He moved away, but she appeared not to have noticed.
“You boys look like you’ve traveled far,” she commented as she scooped out some meat and potatoes for the both of them.
Gwaynn shrugged. The woman was older but far from old; she had yet to reach middle age, though Gwaynn could see a few small wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, and a few more at her eyes. He guessed she was nearing thirty, but could not be sure. He always had trouble with the age of women, especially those older than he.
Dot moved closer to him so that their legs were touching again. “Where are you from stranger?”
