 Previous |
 Main |
Next  |
"The Inn of the Three Tuns". Sixth-day, a balmier evening, for a change. At the fourteenth Ahn the door opens, a tall thin man wearing flowing amber robes enters, his face a waxy pallor, drawn and lined, his cheeks sunken, his eyes yellowed and protruding. He is lead by a small slave, dark-haired, with startling green eyes. She holds him by the hand, ready to support him if he stumbles. Her flowing silks hide little of a firm full figure. No longer in the first flush of youth, her face retains an innocence, but her eyes are hooded, tired looking. She leads her Master past the first tables, to a place near the centre of the hall, cleared for dancing and with stools laid out in a semi-circle for the musicians to play. She whispers to him, he reaches behind him, unsteadily, and sits with an audible groan...she flutters around him...dashes to the servery to return with a cup of water. She takes a rolled paper stick and unwraps the end, pouring the contents into the cup. She stirs and offers the cup to his mouth. His hand shakes as he holds the bottom of the cup, tipping it to his lips. He sets the cup onto the table, leans back in the chair, grimacing, and closes his eyes. His breath taken in short shallow bursts. "Is your Master ill ?"...... The girls jumps in surprise and spins to face the source of the sound, a slim figure, dressed as a Warrior, pale skinned, hair tied in a knot with a silver ring. She lowers her eyes... "Sorry, Master, a girl did not see you. She was concerned for the welfare of her Master. He is unwell, Master. This one fears that it will not be long till his suffering is over. Thank you for your concern." The Warrior looks at the girl, his ice blue eyes steady and calm, his gaze flicks to the robed figure. The body wasted beneath, the arms now visible are thin, the skin mottled in appearance. "I think that you may be right, girl. I have seen others in his condition, there seems little to be done except to ease his passing, remove his pain." The girl's eyes fill with tears... "Master. There is nothing that can be done, This girl had hoped to find a place where he could pass quietly. But my Master refuses to take his ease. His mind is bright, his tongue is sharp, it is but the shell that wastes away." The slim figure turns his gaze to the central area of the Tavern...he asks. "I am told that there are excellent musicians here this night, do you know of them ?" "Yes Master, a girl does. My Master finds music eases him and every sixth-day a girl brings him here to gain some measure of relief. They will begin soon, My Master wishes to be here for when they begin as he finds life increasingly tiring, and often must leave early." The Warrior nods, calls for iced water and fruit, he sits and waits, watching. Over the next few ehn a small crowd arrives, scattering around the empty tables, the noise of talk and laughter grows to a buzz, broken only by the tinkle of slave bells as the kajirae begin to weave between the tables. At the fifteenth ehn a hush descends as the troupe of musicians take their places...they play a wide variety, from spirited dances to slow airs, from songs of joy and heroism to tales of shattered love and pointless death. Throughout the robed figure watches in silence, his eyes alive. At the end of each piece he slumps back, leaning forward again as a new tune strikes up. The Warrior watches from the next table. The slave kneels quietly at her Master's feet, occasionally looking to him and preparing drink or fetching light food with no obvious command. The Inn continues to fill, the Warrior notices the only tables not filling are his and that of the Master and slave. He stands and walks across ..the slave regards him with curiosity, her Master stares at the players. "May I join you ?" he asks. The robed figure looks and points to an empty seat. The Warrior sits. No other words are exchanged for some ehn, then the Master turns to look at the Warrior and asks in a deep resonant voice, surprising in its depth. "Show me your hands..." The Warrior holds out his hands the other takes them and turns then over and over. He looks at the Warrior, his protruding eyes taking on a resigned look... He speaks again... "I knew it would be but a matter of time. At one time I had hoped to escape the retribution of those who seek my death, now it would be a sweet release. May I ask a question?" The Warrior nods... "You are no Warrior, your hands are not callused from prolonged use of weapons, yet your eyes suggest that you are used to dealing in death. Are you an Assassin, are you sent to kill me ?" The slave looks at her Master, her hand flying to her mouth..... The Warrior nods again.... "My name is Ornoth, but that you know. This girl is my true and adoring slave, she is perle. Does your commission extend to her as well? " The Assassin looks to the trembling slave, and back to Ornoth.... "Yes, it does....." "I thought as much....and though I grieve for her, I cannot say I am surprised. My friend, Gor is in danger, our values are undermined, our honour compromised....I want to tell you a tale of conspiracy and of betrayal, humour me ..then do as you will. Do you know the House of Scribes over the square from here? If so, visit me at the tenth ehn, the day after tomorrow. We will talk and then you may fulfil your duty. We will not seek to run, there is no point. Will you come?" The Assassin nods again.. "I will be there at the tenth." Ornoth smiles and thanks him....The Assassin rises and sets down his goblet...."I wish you well"..."As do I..." perle looks up.. "Good evening, Master.. I wish you safe travels." The Assassin leaves, the albino watches from a corner.
|
Chapter
Four - A Evening's Entertainment