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The people at the Stickley Café apparently knew the Glade House proprietor. Keri walked in, waved to the frazzled waitresses, and the frizzy-haired owner doubling as the secondary cook. She announced, “We’ll be using Room Three, the third floor.”
The owner replied, “Chelly’ll be up when things get under control down here.”
The café was finishing up a busy lunch serving wealthier merchants. It seemed there was only one main dish being served. Maybe like Taco Tuesday. Today’s dish consisted of a grilled fish on a stick, like a fish-kabob, accompanied by a spoonful of corn, several radishes and a round biscuit, all on a wooden plate.
The café contained plain wooden tables and pictures on the wall, mainly of peasants engaged in some aspect of farming. It was warm in the main room. Actually, everyplace was hot on summer days. In addition to modern plumbing, nobody had invented air conditioning. With magic it should be possible. Heck, Glenn recalled his great grandmother calling the refrigerator an ice box. Certainly there was an enchanter that could create ice, and put some sort of fan to blow across it.
The aroma of the fish and fresh rolls caused Glenn’s mouth to water. The smell of apple cider made his throat feel dry. Maybe it was the food that drew the wealthier customers. Maybe it was the fantasy world’s version of fast food, because everyone was shoveling it in while they spoke. Customers seated themselves and yelled to a passing waitress how many plates for their table. Before departing the customers left a stack of coins on a small tin plate placed upon a wooden stand in the table’s center.
The stairway was narrow. The steep steps let off on the second floor before leading to the third. Two big people like Derek, or built like Stephi, would have to squeeze past each other. The stairway lacked a handrail so Glenn climbed using the wall to assist. Along the way he reflected that there were more than a few muscular people like Derek. More on average than in the real world...unless he only hung out at weightlifting gyms. There were also chesty women in Three Hills City but none that measured up to Stephi. Of course, Three Hills City was the only city he’d been in. There was the town, Shorn Spearhead, and a few small villages, or hamlets, or whatever the game world called them. So his observation pool was rather limited.
Then he remembered what happened to Stephi. He sighed.
“We’re almost to the top,” Keri said, misinterpreting his exasperated breath.
Glenn didn’t explain. He just clomped up after her.
When they got to the top there was a door with a lock. Keri had a key.
The hallway was narrow, with narrow floorboards. The floor wasn’t completely level. If Glenn dropped a marble it’d roll to a low spot here or there. The hallway led to a series of small rooms. Some had doors open with sun-filled windows showing. Actual glass windows, although their thickness was inconsistent and their texture was rippled. A few held easels with half-finished paintings. One had a pottery wheel and shelves with finished bowls and urns, already glazed and fired in an oven.
After taking another turn, Keri stopped in front of a doorway and unlocked it using a second key on her ring. Glenn had seen her with the key ring at the Glade House. It held six keys total. Now he knew that, besides the back and front door keys, what two of the others were for. One might be for another room above the café? Otherwise, why would Keri have announced which room she was going to when they entered the establishment?
Keri’s small square room was hot and stuffy, and lit with a magical light. It held a narrow desk. A shelf mounted above it was filled with jars holding quills, some smaller ones contained ink. It also held sheaves of paper and a few small wooden carvings. The most interesting was of two small dogs. One was painted brown and white, and the other black and white. They had a striking likeness to Rocky and Chili. Glenn’s brain must’ve been running in low gear, because the likeness was probably the point. They’d certainly been commissioned, maybe from one of the artists that shared the top floor with Keri.
The rest of the walls held shelves filled with some scrolls, but mostly with leather-bound books of various sizes and thicknesses. All but a few appeared old, and none bore titles or identifying information on their spines.
It was obvious the Dewey Decimal system hadn’t been introduced to the Monsters, Maces and Magic world. Or written into it by the authors of the rule books, or the game moderator that specifically designed the world Glenn was trapped in.
Keri pulled open the two window panes, mounted on hinges along the window frame. Then she lifted the latches that held the two shutters closed and pushed them open so the room could air out. There wouldn’t be much of a cross breeze. Fortunately the window faced east, and had already seen the main part of the day’s sun.
“You may have my chair,” Keri offered, pulling the wooden antique, or at least old but sturdy chair, out from the desk.
Glenn looked at it and said, “I’ll be more comfortable on the floor.” When she gave him an uncertain look, he explained, “My feet will dangle.”
She gave Glenn a half-grin. “Well, I’d offer you the trunk next to my desk for a foot rest, but it’s bolted to the floor.”
“Thieves?” Glenn asked, realizing if he used it as a foot rest, he’d have to face the wall and its packed shelves.
“Three Hills City has them, like every blooming city, town or hamlet, and no place or thing can ever be deemed completely safe. I prefer to make it difficult for them.” She gestured with her hand to a spot on the uneven floor where Glenn could sit. “Or not worth their effort.”
Glenn sat. “This is where you disappear to?”
Keri sat too, and crossed one leg over the other. She then untied one of her boots and began loosening the laces. “Sometimes I go to the garden you saw. I retire here to read, and to study. Sometimes I go other places.” She followed her last statement with a squint of her left eye and a nod that caused her curly hair to bounce.
Glenn nodded understanding. She didn’t intend to clarify. He squinted up at the shelves’ contents. “How long have you been in Three Hills City?”
“Oh, decades.” Her answer carried a nonchalant tone.
The answer, again vague, but revealing. Keri Lovelace appeared to be at most in her late thirties, and Glenn didn’t think she was a ‘hometown’ girl, born and raised in Three Hills City.
Keri removed one boot and linen sock and began working on the second boot. “When Chelly or Swela deliver our lunch, we can eat and I will shut the door. Then we’ll do our talking.” She removed the second boot and sock and set them aside.
She stretched her legs, wiggled her toes with their red-painted nails, and sighed. “I prefer bare feet to boots.” She scrunched up her nose. “But the filthy streets of Three Hills are a far stretch from lush meadows.”
Glenn always saw her wearing boots in her boarding house, but didn’t say anything.
Keri stood and pulled a book from a lower shelf, one that didn’t look often used. She handed it to him.
The book was the size of an abridged, hardcover dictionary. Its leather cover was worn and the pages were thicker and less uniform than those of books he was used to reading. Nothing like university texts. What he held certainly wasn’t available as an eBook. Nothing in Keri’s room would be. Unless some magic user or enchanter devised a way for words to roll down a scroll. Sort of like the text did at the beginning of Star Wars movies.
“Before you begin reading—am I right in assuming as a healer, you’ve been taught to read the common language? That translated book holds a few maps and drawings, but mostly words.”
Glenn nodded affirmation. He could read, at around the seventh-grade level in the game world. That gave him access to most things. Kirby wasn’t quite as strong in reading, while Stephi and Ron were far advanced in their ability compared to Glenn. Kalgore, especially as he was a warrior and hadn’t taken a skill slot in reading, was illiterate. A fact which vexed the warrior.
Keri peeked her head out into the hallway before turning to stand over Glenn. “You must swear not to divulge that I have a copy of what you hold, or I must return it to the shelf.”
Glenn, sitting cross-legged, straightened his back. For half a breath he was unsure he wanted to hold the text, let alone open it. The dire concern passed. Why would Keri wait until this moment to cause him harm? “I swear I won’t tell anyone you have it, nor will I share where I learned anything I, ummm, might learn by reading what’s in it?”
“That will do,” she replied.
“What you hold is a brief history of the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, Jagged Valleys, and Sunken Hills. Well, the last three hundred years’ worth, as of its completion fifty-three years ago. It is a translation of the original completed for me twenty-seven years ago.” She returned to her wooden chair and leaned back. “As you are a gnome, and a distant cousin of the dwarves, yet raised by humans, it would be good for you to have some knowing of them.”
She squinted one eye at Glenn. “And the knowledge may benefit you, as it sounds as if you may be, shall we say, looking for one dwarf in particular.”
Glenn nodded understanding.
After Keri returned to her desk, took a sheet of paper from a drawer, and began writing with quill and ink, Glenn rested the book on his lap and opened it.
He turned the pages carefully, yet as quickly as he could, skimming. He found no table of contents, nor any index. It read as if the author had transcribed, word for word, an oral history recited to him—or her. There appeared to be no author listed or identified.
The gnome healer wished Ron was there, with his orienteering and map reading skills, and his booklet that he carried around to jot maps and directions, and pertinent bits of information. But Keri probably wouldn’t have approved. Taking such notes without permission likely had consequences far worse than a little copyright infringement.
Keri finished writing and pulled a book from a shelf. With a look of concentration she began leafing through it. Glenn continued with his book, doing the same.
He read and skimmed content for twenty minutes, during which he determined that there were four basic clans, broken down by hair color. Red, blond, brown, and black. There were varying skin colors, from pale white to near coal black, but that seemed irrelevant when compared to the color of a dwarf’s hair. They got along well enough, the clans, although they were competitive and frequently envious. They rarely married and had children outside the clan. It seemed, from what he could tell, the hair color of offspring was always determined by the mother. So a black-bearded father would expect his sons and daughters, and those of his daughters’ offspring to take the hair color of his wife. Thus, if she was a brown beard, all his children were destined to be brown, and they would be cut off from his clan. And any inheritance to his sons would be counted among the rival, other hair-colored clan.
Such restrictions seemed disturbing. What a screwed up game world. So regimented and constricting. But, deep down, his gnomish instincts felt such regimentation was right and proper. Maybe he needed to find a book on gnomes, or at least ask Kirby or Ron for more of the basics, based on their memory of the Player’s Guide, and even the Game Master’s Guide.
Glenn was going to ask Keri if she had a similar book about gnomes but he heard one of the waitresses whistling down the hallway. He quickly closed the book and placed it back in its spot on the lower shelf.
Chelly asked, gripping a large wooden tray. “Are you ready to eat?” The middle-aged waitress had a pear-shaped body accompanied by a thin nose and friendly smile. She looked far less frazzled than when he’d seen her hurrying to serve the crowd of customers.
Keri had already cleared her desk. “We are, Chelly, dear.”
Glenn stood and backed out of the way as the waitress handed the tray to Keri. On it were two plates, each holding a fish-kabob, a pile of yellow corn, several radishes and two fresh biscuits. There was also a tin pitcher with two tin mugs, and two spoons and two brown cloth napkins. Glenn smelled the spiced apple cider.
“Thank you, dear,” Keri said. “Put it on my tab as well as the customary tip. Oh, and if you would, please pull the door closed behind you.”
Chelly grinned so wide as to nearly split her thin face. “That is very kind.” Her arm showed several pitted scars as she reached for the door. “I’ll see not a soul disturbs you.”
As soon as the door was closed, Keri handed Glenn his plate and filled his cup with cider from the pitcher.
Glenn thanked the Glade House owner and waited until she was seated and her cup was also filled before he dug in. While he devoured the meal, he pointed up to the carvings of two dogs. “Are those Rocky and Chili?”
Keri gazed up at them. “Indeed they are.”
Glenn cleared his throat. “They’re fine dogs. Good with customers, even though you said they’re for security.”
“They make the Glade House a friendlier place. A bit of home away from home.”
The gnome thought a moment while chewing a mouthful of corn. “There aren’t a lot of dogs in Three Hills City,” he observed. “But those that are, and guard places are...well, bigger and meaner. Like you’d expect guard dogs to be.” He put his spoon down on his plate. He recalled his first meeting with Keri, in the alley behind her place. She was confronting her cross-alley neighbors. A half-goblin and his half-ogre wife. He didn’t think the dogs would’ve been much help if it would’ve come to a scrap.
Keri waited patiently as the gnome finished his thought.
“I mean, they’re keen to warn you,” Glenn said. “But more likely to get hurt than help in a fight.”
The Glade House owner paused, her eyes intense, as if she were deciding upon something. “Being relatively new to Three Hills, you may not know that there’s a sizeable pack of wererats that lurk in the more ill-reputed sections.”
Glenn thought, wererats? Like werewolves, but rats? He didn’t ask Keri. He could get clarification from Kirby, or Ron later.
“They were gifts,” she said. “Rocky and Chili have what is called Silver Strike. It’s a rare ability in canines, and even rarer among humans. Their attacks upon creatures safe from mundane weapons, wood, steel or iron, but vulnerable to silver—as all lycanthropes are—get through. For my Rocky and Chili, it’s as if their teeth are coated in silver.”
She smiled at Glenn’s wide eyes. “Oh, you’ve got the right of it. My Rocky and Chili are a threat to any wererat in human, or their rat-human form.” Her shoulder-length curled hair bounced as she tipped her head side to side in equivocation. “Not exactly dire.” She squinted her left eye and focused on Glenn with her right. “However, as big rats sneaking about my establishment? Things tend towards murderous for the filthy creatures.”
Glenn nodded understanding. The two spunky and determined canines would tear into rats, no problem.
They went back to eating. After a moment Keri cleared her throat and began sharing information about wood nymphs, and in particular the one named Polayney.
“In addition to the dwarves, another lesson related to history, which will lead to the answer of your earlier question,” Keri said, after taking a sip of cider.
“Three Hills City is built on what was once a localized forest of mostly yew trees. Initially an adventuring party cleared the forest of monsters. It was led by a warrior, Zillbann the Black, who’d emerged from the gladiator pits in Shatt. Once the trolls and goblins and even a basilisk had been driven out, back into the Dark Heart Swamp from which they’d spread, or slain, Zilbann established a small wooden fortress for himself and his followers.”
Keri took time to eat a biscuit. “You might have guessed, Jax, it was located where the duke’s keep is today.”
She stared out her study’s open window for a moment before continuing. “On the three hills that hold towers today, Zillbann and his people established wooden watch towers. The towers and defenses weren’t effective, being they were surrounded by an established forest. So Zillbann’s people began clearing trees.
“It was then that a druid, a gnome...” At that, Keri smiled, and took a bite of her fish before continuing. Glenn had finished his grilled fish and was returning to his corn.
“A druid named Glysine of the Shrubbery, who worshiped Pan, led a party of his own adventures. In addition, he is said to have summoned a small host of woodland creatures, mainly satyrs and sprites, with a few centaurs and a friendly hill giant to his side.
“Their objective was to convince Zillbann the Black to cease his clearing the forest. But Zillbann didn’t even bother to hear what ‘his enemies’ had to say. Fierce battle ensued. Buckets of blood from both sides were spilled. Zillbann was felled by the hill giant, but Zillbann’s magic user in turn slew the giant with a Fireblast Spell. The result set the yew forest aflame.
“Glysine of the Shrubbery suffered a spear to the back while he was attempting to summon rain to quell the spreading flames. With his death, and with all of his fellow party members slain, the surviving woodland host fled.
“Rains did come, but not before much of the forest had burned, including Zillbann the Black’s wooden keep and towers.
“The actual summoner of the yew forest’s champions was Polayney, the forest’s wood nymph. She had been able to ward a small portion of the trees from the flames, and the magic user, who now led the survivors of Zilbann’s side, saw the sense to negotiate.”
Keri took a moment to finish her fish and drink some more cider while Glenn sat in thought, trying to imagine the battle. He’d never seen a satyr or centaur. There was supposed to be a hill giant on the far side and north of the Dark Heart Swamp. Maybe it was a distant relative of Glysine’s ally.
“Depending whose side you might’ve been on, it was fortunate, or unfortunate, that the magic user was a lady named Malina the Yellow, for she was devoted to the god Apollo. She was an accomplished spell caster such that she had earned the title of wizard.
“Polayney, the wood nymph, threatened that if her remaining trees were felled, she would blight the land with an enduring curse such that none living upon it would prosper. So a truce was agreed to. Malina promised to leave the surviving yew trees unharmed, and to ward them from harm, as would all those that followed and lived upon the land. Polayney wanted to regrow her forest, but Malina refused. In memory of Zillbann the Black, she would rather see the land blighted than return to forestland.”
Glenn sort of wondered why a wood nymph would be okay with goblins in her forest. And why a follower of Apollo would adventure with someone like Zillbann the Black?
He was about to ask but Keri then said, with a measure of scorn, “After all, Malina’s side had won the battle.”
Keri finished her meal and appeared to be organizing her thoughts, so Glenn worked on finishing his meal and tried to absorb what she’d shared.
Finally, after draining her cup of cider, she refilled both hers and Glenn’s from the pitcher, stretched out her legs, gripped her cup and rested it on her right thigh, and continued her tale.
“So it was agreed that south of what is now the south wall of Three Hills City may not be inhabited by people of the city, and kept clear of corpses and structures. A small river port and road was allowed. Trees scattered by nature may grow south of the city. Those may not be destroyed or removed by any of the inhabitants of Three Hills, nor by anyone hired or encouraged to do so. They may be culled by cutting if they reach fifty years of growth. But for each that is cut, Polayney is permitted to expand the size of her yew grove by that same number.”
Glenn thought of the willow tree near where he and the rest of the party had buried Kim. Its size meant it was far older than fifty years. Other than the grove, it was the only tree south of the city.
“You see, a wood nymph is immortal, as long as she has her tree and sufficient trees to form a small grove. And her tree is immortal, as long as it has its nymph. She intended to outlast the humans, and slowly regrow the forest.”
Keri took several large gulps of her cider. “Malina, however, wasn’t fooled. She, using magics and animal husbandry, bred a herd of goats that prefers feeding on young tree shoots and saplings, and are not influenced by a wood nymph’s call.”
She drained her cup and frowned. “And to this day, the duke maintains that herd of goats, and looses them upon the meadow between the city and the river for one week in the spring, one week in the summer, and one week in the fall to feed.
“As you might imagine, Jax, this has severely hampered Polayney’s plan.”
Keri pulled back her feet and leaned toward Glenn. “And killing one of the favored goats will earn weeks of torture before your soul is rent and devoured by the demon Wizard Malina summoned and, is to this day, held far beneath the duke’s keep.”
Glenn knew, in theory, what a demon was. But in this world, they could be worse by many orders of magnitude. He recalled the effect the lich had upon his party, the paralyzing terror inflicted when it, or she, or what once had been a she, simply travelled past their small encampment in the Dark Heart Swamp. A demon was probably ten times worse. That caused him to involuntarily shiver.
Keri frowned, and then a look of concern crossed her face. “Jax, have you encountered a demon?”
“No,” he said, his voice quiet and shaky. “But something nearly as bad.” He didn’t want to explain. “It passed by us in the Dark Heart Swamp.”
“Passed you by?”
Glenn nodded slowly, trying to push back the memory. It was still a source of nightmares. He took a deep steadying breath. Not only to settle his voice, but to keep his lunch down. He held up a hand, signaling for the Glade House owner to wait a few seconds.
“Gurk and Lysine said we weren’t worth the effort.” He stared into her eyes, trying to see if she believed him or not. “Like not bothering to go out of your way to step on an ant.”
“It wasn’t the dragon,” she said.
It wasn’t really a question, but he answered it anyway. “No, I’ve never seen a dragon but, from what I’ve heard, a dragon would go out of its way to eat gnomes and elves and everyone else in my party.”
A moment of silence between them hung in the air.
Keri quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t want to tell me what it was, then?”
Glenn shook his head. “Not today.”
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Keri said, “Then let me tell you a word or two about a happier subject.” She reached for a sock sitting next to her boots and began sliding it on her right foot.
“Wood nymphs are immortal creatures. That you now know. They are tied to one particular tree upon birth—and don’t ask me what births them.” She grinned. “Not only the size, but the majesty of their grove influences their magical strength. It was unfortunate, or fortunate, that Malina the Wizard was female, depending on your perspective. For wood nymphs, as are river nymphs, beautiful beyond measure.” She half rolled her eyes. “Well, mortal measure. They even surpass in beauty, your friend Marigold.
“Their beauty is such that mortal men can do little to nothing against the nymph’s will, once they have laid eyes upon her. Seeing her unclothed can shock a man’s body, leaving him unwakeable for weeks, or even slay him outright.”
She reached for her other sock. “Gnomes and elves are not afflicted to such an extent, and women are more likely to be jealous than anything else. Most become ill-tempered in the presence of a wood nymph for any length of time.” Keri tipped her head from side to side in equivocation. “Unless they are the sort that desires the company of women more than they do men.”
Glenn rubbed his chin in thought. “What’s their magic like?”
“They have some of the powers of druids, and can speak freely to every natural animal or beast that wanders into their grove.”
That didn’t exactly answer his question but she didn’t seem interested in sharing more. He was pretty sure she knew more. Of course, he hadn’t shared about the lich.
Keri reached for a boot and asked, “Would you be a dear and close the window and shutters?”
Glenn looked up, figuring he could reach well enough, but he had a pressing question. “You’ve been around Three Hills City for a long time. Longer than me and my party.”
She looked at him while sliding her right boot on.
After walking over to the windows, he mustered up the courage to ask. Kirby was better at this kind of thing, but she was a friend, or at least as close to a friend as his party had in Three Hills City. “Do you have any ideas on how we might go about finding the dwarf, Benxcob, and get the gold coin back from him?”
Glenn went pale, suddenly thinking he—they—should’ve been watching the gates. What if the dwarf already left? If he hadn’t seen, he must’ve heard about the rainbow so close to the city. Glenn sure would if he knew the leprechaun had tracked him down to the city.
The gnome healer was almost afraid to say it, but did. “Before he finds out about the rainbow and leaves the city?”
Keri began to laugh, then placed a hand over her mouth, stifling it. “If the dwarf knows about the rainbow,” she said, “he won’t go anywhere. Not right away, knowing Bata Fidil might be lurking about outside Three Hills.”
“Why not?” Glenn asked, truly curious.
“He must be a crafty dwarf,” Keri said. “Greedy and crafty, and know something about leprechauns to have stolen, or tricked, Bata Fidil out of one of his precious coins.” She slid on her left boot. “He’ll know that a leprechaun loses much of his power if he enters a mortal city. What leprechaun would want to confront such a dwarf when so weakened?
“But a crafty dwarf might suspect the sly leprechaun to have recruited someone to enter the city and do the dirty work for him.”
“That would be us,” Glenn said glumly.
“So, back to your question. Let me think on that a moment.” She paused while tying her left boot. While she did, Glenn pulled the window’s shutters closed, latched them, and then pushed the two windowpanes closed behind the shutters.
“I heard about your involvement at Higslaff’s pawnshop. Your party’s presence, and willingness to fight, caught the opposing party of adventurers off guard. And I heard something about Gurk and Josiah the Barber. Gurk tipped off the barber or helped deal with a robbery attempt, or so I heard.”
She began tying her other boot, looking down at what her fingers were doing. “You’d know better, I imagine, and I don’t need to know your business.”
She finished with the boot and stomped it down on the floor. “Rumor has it, they’re tied into the local thieves’ guild. Gurk might be able to tell you for sure. But, if what I’ve heard is true, they might owe your party something like a favor.”
Glenn nodded to himself. The thieves’ guild would know the city, and how to find the dwarf. Plus, there weren’t many dwarves in the city. It’s just that it was a big city, one that he and his friends didn’t know as well as Keri. Certainly not as well as thieves that lived and worked in it.
Then she stood and pointed her index finger down at Glenn. “The guild master is not somebody to get on the wrong side of.” She bit her lip. “You just don’t. So be sure your friends know that. Especially your mischievous friend, Gurk.”
“Thanks,” Glenn said. “For what you did for Stephi, and for what you shared.” He wondered if the party, or more specifically Stephi and Glenn, owed her a favor.
Glenn put that aside and quickly organized his thoughts. Keri didn’t know everything about what had happened at the barber shop and at the pawnshop. Or, if she did, she didn’t let on that she did. Secrets, or espionage, or having sources wasn’t his thing. In any case, what she’d said was close.
He fixed an earnest gaze on the Glade House owner. “If there’s ever anything I can do.”
“Oh, don’t you worry yourself about that, Jax. If I ever need something from you, I’ll be sure to ask.”
That answered one of Glenn’s questions.
“But right now what I need to do is find a decent chamber pot downstairs.” She smiled a friendly smile. “I’ll lay good coins on the table saying you do, too.”
Glenn couldn’t argue that, and his face said it.
“Thought as much.” She laughed her infectious laugh. “The Stickley Café’s apple cider is known for that.”