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Kirby burst into the room while Glenn was holding the end of a stick with a mildewed tarp wrapped around it. He was maneuvering it back and forth and side to side while Stephi practiced coordinating rapier-thrust attacks with her flying ability. She wasn’t very good at it, in Glenn’s opinion, but showing improvement. Having someone like Derek or Ron there to give advice would’ve been handy. They knew sword handling techniques. Stephi’s connection to Kim through the Soul Gem wasn’t useful. She only had warrior monk skills, and none of those involved rapiers.
Stephi kept wearing the silver chain holding the alexandrite gemstone, the soul gem housing Kim’s soul, as a belt. Ron had carefully wrapped strands of green silk around the chain so that it didn’t chafe her leaf dress or make any noise. He offered to get the remaining bit of silk he’d secured fashioned into socks or leggings. Stephi declined the offer. Like all fairies, she preferred to remain barefoot.
“Dudes,” Kirby said, unbridled excitement in his voice, “Josiah told me where that dwarf is staying.” He took a second to close the door. “You know what’s even better?” The half-goblin thief didn’t wait for Stephi or Glenn to respond. “He’s been invited to a second floor poker game at the Blue Bugle! Tonight!”
Stephi, fluttering several feet above the floor, slid her rapier into its scabbard.
“Oh, Gurk.”
That was all she could manage but Petie chimed in from his spot on the window sill, chirping and warbling. Glenn interpreted it as “Wanted, wanted, wanted.”
Gurk said, “Send Petie to go get Lysine and Kalgore so we can organize a plan.”
It was dusk when Glenn and Kirby reached the Blue Bugle. The party had spent the day scouting routes from the gambling and entertainment tavern to the Laughing Goat Inn. It was about a half mile, and not a straight shot back. That meant alternate alleys to set their ambush and hope no members of the City Guard were patrolling nearby. And that Benxcob went straight back to where he was supposed to be staying.
Josiah the Barber had given Kirby and Glenn stamped copper tokens that would allow them entrance without question. He also had a contact named Josie—if that was her real name—who’d point out Benxcob when he came into the Bugle for his poker game. It was assumed that Josie could locate a half-goblin and a gnome among the crowd. The bill for the barber’s efforts came to fourteen gold, nine silver and two copper coins. Glenn wasn’t sure if that was excessive or a bargain, but everyone pulled from their stash and paid the location fee, as well as for passes for Ron and Derek to get into the Bugle. Whether that much coin was excessive or not, it was worth it, if they got the leprechaun’s gold coin.
Derek and Ron were to arrive fifteen minutes after Glenn and Kirby. Once Benxcob arrived and was identified, Glenn and Kirby were to depart and hang out at the Crow’s Gullet. There they’d wait for Petie to let them know when the dwarf left the Bugle.
Stephi was to keep track of the dwarf, relaying instructions to Glenn and Kirby through Petie so that the pair could be ready to lure Benxcob into one of the ambush alleys. Ron and Derek were to follow at a distance, far enough behind that they wouldn’t be noticed. It all hinged on Stephi. That made her anxious. She had to fly above the roofs and Camouflage herself while keeping track of the dwarf, communicate with Petie, and make sure Ron and Derek knew where the ambush would be.
The Blue Bugle was a wooden building with sturdy framing and actual windows. The front was single story and wide, but it extended back to become a three-story structure. Painted on the wall facing the street was a large blue bugle. With so much of the population being illiterate, the painted depiction made sense to Glenn.
There was a small admittance line to get into the Bugle. Glenn had his cudgel in its loop and his shield across his back. Kirby carried his cutlass in its scabbard and bandoleer of darts. Everyone in the Blue Bugle was armed. Some had small swords, or short swords or maces. There were a few with long swords in scabbards on their hips or strapped across their back, the way Kalgore preferred. But everyone had at least a hunting knife or a dagger.
Weapons could only be drawn and used in self-defense, under penalty of imprisonment—or death. And if a patron wouldn’t allow himself to be disarmed by the blue-clad security teams, the same punishment could be expected. Allowing weapons, but also having harsh penalties to even draw them except in defense, seemed odd to Glenn. What about the Monsters, Maces and Magic world wasn’t odd? Maybe if he gained more experience points and went up a rank or two, he’d better understand...not!
Kirby and Glenn reached the pair of doormen armed with short swords and offered their copper tokens. Normally it cost three silver coins for admittance. In return, their right hand was painted with a green dye and the door was opened for them.
Having been in the establishment once before, the pair cut through the meandering crowd and found a high table with two stools along a wall. Its placement wasn’t optimum for viewing the stage, being at a good angle off to the left-hand side. But it did offer a glimpse of the upper two levels from across the room, sort of like one of those hotels where one could look up at the mezzanine and the second floor. Up there the larger-stakes gambling took place.
Kirby put his soft-soled boot on one of the tall stool’s spindles, enabling Glenn to climb up. Once Kirby was seated, they looked around. Two hulking bouncers that could double for Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime guarded the spiral stairwell leading up to the gambling area. That was where Benxcob was supposed to be invited.
The bottom floor had several rows of benches arrayed up near the stage, which was near the back of the first level. Located beyond the stage was the kitchen, storage, offices, and whatever else the Blue Bugle needed for the place to run.
Behind the benches stood nine round tables tightly arranged with seats for between four and eight customers. Those tables were larger and lower compared to where Glenn and Kirby sat. That made them more appropriate for dining. Most of the high tables like Glenn and Kirby’s sat along the north wall. Along the south end of the large, low-ceilinged room, was a gambling area. There were tables with a few people playing cards around them, what looked like a blackjack table, and one where people were shooting dice. The dealers and those running or monitoring the tables wore blue, similar to the doormen. Several of the men were pretty large, and wore short swords or sabers on their hips.
Despite the magical medieval setting, the place had an Old West gambling hall melded with a modern theater club vibe. There was an open floor area where customers mingled. Nobody danced.
The place continued filling up with merchant men and women in linen and silk outfits. Some were pretty conservative while others sported odd patterns, with reds, blues, oranges and greens. Convenience and ease of wearing weapons seemed more important than deadliness. No halberds or spears or spike-headed flails. A few men and two women wore larger swords strapped across their backs. Glenn smiled, knowing that despite the oddity, they’d manage to sit comfortably, just like he did with his shield. Game world rules.
There weren’t any other gnomes, mostly humans with a few half-elves mixed in. There was a dwarf working behind the bar along with a couple human bartenders. Glenn recognized the dwarf being there the other time they’d been in the Bugle.
“Most everyone’s human,” Kirby whispered to Glenn. “Merchants, based on their clothes and weapons. Here to have a good time, showing off a little wealth, and avoiding the common riff-raff.”
Glenn nodded agreement to the obvious. He appreciated Kirby making sure Glenn was aware, and helping him to learn. Yes, three silver coins for admittance, a little less for attending servants, would keep the poorer folks out.
Glenn leaned close to Kirby. “Crowded, but not as crowded as last time.”
A spindly thin waitress with braided black hair that dangled past her waist came up to their table. “What’ll you two be having?”
“An ale for me, and a mead for my gnome friend,” Kirby said, pointing his thumb at Glenn. “Not the rot-gut stuff, but not your best neither. We got some coin tonight, but we ain’t rich.”
The waitress eyed the green marks on the gnome and half-goblin’s hands and said, “I’ll take care of you two, no problem.” She gestured toward the stage. “The Albino Leper Man is going to be doing some singing soon.” She leaned close. “He ain’t diseased, mind you. Just his stage name.”
“Stay sharp,” Kirby whispered, leaning close, “and hope at least one of us makes our Observation Roll.”
Glenn gulped.
Kirby must’ve caught his friend’s concern. “Don’t worry, dude. Spotting a dwarf among humans—and if we don’t get stinking drunk—we’ll get massive bonuses to our roll. Plus, I’m a thief, so I’ll get an extra plus two.”
Glenn wondered where the ‘roll’ exactly took place. Some great game master in the sky? With this weird world it was within the realm of possibility.
While they waited and watched for any dwarf, and for their contact, Josie, the bard on stage warmed up. He sat on a low stool with a large harp resting between his legs. The sound as he plucked strings carried pretty well.
The Albino Leper Man was definitely pale, but his eyes weren’t red. And his short-trimmed hair wasn’t white. It was faded blond. The gnome decided the stage name, or a weird NPC name, was one some GM had made up. He frowned. Maybe the creepy GM that had trapped them in the game.
The Albino Leper Man wore a black linen shirt and breeches, and a sleeveless vest sporting a vivid yellow and black checker pattern.
By the time their spindly waitress delivered the drinks and Kirby paid—they didn’t want to have a tab since they might need to leave at any moment—the bard was prepared to sing his first tale of the night. Except for the murmur and occasional laughing and backslapping from the gambling taking place on the opposite side of the large main floor, everyone was quiet and surprisingly attentive.
After an impressive musical flourish from his harp, the bard announced in a clear tenor voice, one with a hint of a nasal tone, “The Fall of the Winterlands.”
Nods, whispers and grunts of approval came from all around Kirby and Glenn.
As the bard sang his tale, his eyes closed and his fingers plucked strings with confident grace.
––––––––
When the God-Emperor came down like a wolf on the fold
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold
And the sheen of their spears was like the stars on the sea
When the Kratzfians marched and laid siege to Akbe.
––––––––
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green
That host with their banners at sunset was seen.
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn has blown
Half the host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
––––––––
Belagusta had aided with a fiery blast
And the Wizard of Winter felled more as he passed.
Montremain had slain generals with the Chaos Blade’s charm
And Meltarm had battled all who dared Justice harm.
––––––––
But there stood defenders, eyes open, mouths wide,
Through the ranks marched the God-Emperor, determined in stride.
Belagusta challenged first, and was decimated unto smoke
Then Archimedes, Mage of Ice Mountain, was the next to be broke.
––––––––
The mortals all stood, spirit broken and pale,
’Till Benemere the White rode forth, in gleaming white mail.
The ranks were all silent as he battled alone.
He perished unheralded, with trumpets unblown.
––––––––
The Kratzfians moved forward to press their advantage,
The defenders stood ready, courage as could manage.
The cresting attack took them over the walls
The fighting raged on, in doorways and in halls.
––––––––
Telecarn, Cancer, Chi, and Sir Joshua too
Fought on like windstorms, and thousands they slew.
Aimen and Emperor battled near side by side.
Akbe was in crumble with nowhere to hide.
––––––––
The pocks of resistance were being destroyed,
The fate of the Winterlands none could avoid.
Like Grahmlaug before, died defending his land,
Like the Hold of the Sea Princes, who’d failed to stand.
––––––––
Covered in blood, crimson to the feet,
The Emperor of the South with sword raised, jeered defeat.
Ravaged his way to the embattled town square
Issued the God-Emperor to meet his end there.
––––––––
Once again it halted, the bloody conquest
All eyes turn toward it, the despotic contest.
The defenders knew their last hope, their last gasp,
As a sun weary wanderer, one daring an asp.
––––––––
Like fell darkness he came, came out of the night
Like cold blackness he struck, struck with all of his might.
Against such force, no mortal could stand
Even one so mighty, with the Chaos Sword in hand.
––––––––
The Aimen knew this, and claiming his right
With Hammer of Justice, wagered into the fight.
The two battled on, relentless. The God-Emperor laughed.
Then laid them low with his strength and his craft.
––––––––
The men of the Winterlands battled on, relentless, to the last.
The God-Emperor laid them low with his strength and his craft.
––––––––
It was quite a tale, sounding both dire and epic. But Glenn was totally lost when it came to the names and places. One thing he was sure of: He didn’t want to meet the God-Emperor. The gnome healer was pretty sure the lich that had passed by his party in the Dark Heart Swamp, and left them all a cowering mess just by her near presence, was equal to a mage. And the mage in the bard’s tale got snuffed with apparent ease. Like everyone else.
He made a mental note to ask Kirby or Ron about the bard’s tale when he got the chance. To Glenn, the tale meant that the Monsters, Maces and Magic world they were stuck in had some sort of extensive history. A violent one, like so much else in the game world. It also meant any adventures to the Winterlands wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of his list.
The crowd began tossing coins onto the stage, a sort of payment of which the Bugle kept twenty percent. Glenn learned that from a previous backstage experience while fleeing hostile patrons. Kirby hurled a few coins, too. They looked like iron pieces to Glenn. Unlike when he was on stage, the patrons weren’t targeting the bard, or trying to get him to run from one side of the stage to the other.
The bard planned better, too. A young girl with a push broom did the coin-gathering job. And nobody hurled coins at her for amusement.
While the Albino Leper Man began another tale, this one telling of a nearsighted captain of a cargo-laden sailing ship, a cute woman with freckles and sparkling green eyes wandered up to the table and addressed Kirby.
Glenn guessed the young woman was their contact. She was a little on the chubby side, dressed in a brown linen blouse and wool knit pants that reached mid-calf. She wore sandals and her feet were dusty, like she’d done a lot of walking that day. She pushed aside a curly auburn lock and said, “One never can tell exactly who the Bugle staff will let in these days, let alone how many.”
She picked up Glenn’s tin mug of mead and finished it. After licking her lips, she slid the mug back on the tall table, shrugged with a smile, and wove her way back into the growing sea of patrons, most of which were moving toward the additional benches the blue-clad Bugle staff were placing. Apparently more customers than expected wanted to listen to the bard.
Glenn ignored that and focused his attention toward the entrance. A half moment later a dwarf swaggered in. He had a long, bushy beard, coal-black in color. Like all dwarves, he looked sturdy, like he could swing the hell out of the war hammer hanging from his leather belt. One end of the weapon was blunt and the other spiked. Crack a skull or pierce it, neither result would be pleasant.
The dwarf, Benxcob, had on leather armor. But instead of rings sewn into it like Ron’s armor, this one had steel disks riveted to it, patterned like the stars on the U.S. flag.
Following behind the dwarf strode a big, clean-shaven man with straight hair, a little on the greasy side. It framed his face dominated by a hawk-like nose. Beneath his chainmail vest, he had broad shoulders. The man scanned the crowd as if looking for someone to bludgeon with his mace or stab with his dagger, both weapons secured to his belt.
Kirby tapped Glenn on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from the dwarf and man.
Glenn turned to see what Kirby wanted.
“Don’t stare at them, dude,” the half-goblin thief whispered, leaning close. “That’ll give us away.”
“Oh, sorry,” Glenn muttered. He tipped his empty mug toward himself and stared into it.
“And don’t do anything that’ll make you stand out. We’re a gnome and half-goblin among hundreds of humans, so it’s already bad enough.”
Kirby was right. There were a few elves and half-elves in the hall. He’d seen one half-goblin woman, but that was it.
Kirby leaned close and whispered again. “Josie’s clueing Lysine and Kalgore in.”
Glenn’s eyes shot wide. He hadn’t seen his two party members enter the Bugle. He’d been too enthralled with the bard’s musical tale. Because of that he probably got minuses on his Observation Roll.
The gnome focused his attention on the stage even though he wasn’t listening to the bard’s voice and harp. Looking for Ron and Derek, or even Josie, would probably be a bad idea, too. He sucked at being a thief, and trying to spy on people.
Kirby hopped off his tall stool. “Come on, dude. Time to go.”
They made their way out, which might’ve surprised the doormen—customers leaving so soon—had it not been for Kirby holding his stomach and groaning a bit. Glenn thought about putting his arm around his friend, like he was supporting him, but he was a gnome. His kind weren’t supposed to be friendly toward goblins, or half-goblins. So being with Kirby was odd enough already. It reminded Glenn of how stereotypically narrow-minded the world’s NPCs were. Of course in mythology, and even children’s fairy tales and movies, goblins were always evil and nasty. And gnomes tended to be happy, friendly good guys. They never palled around with goblins. The game’s creators apparently based the game’s cultural norms on such literature.
He shrugged to himself and kept pace with Kirby as they made their way to their assigned destination: The Crow’s Gullet.
Kirby attracted significantly more stares than Glenn at the Crow’s Gullet. It was an outdoor tavern sort of restaurant. It had a large roofed-over porch where customers could sit outside and enjoy the fresh air, what there was of that, and the sites, mainly carts, carriages and citizens making their way to and from various establishments.
The Crow’s Gullet was known to be frequented by mercenaries, henchmen and adventurers. That helped the two blend in. Even more important was the fact that it was slightly less than midway between the Blue Bugle and the Laughing Goat Inn, where Benxcob was supposed to be spending his sleeping hours.
The Gullet was known for its meats. Both Kirby and Glenn opted for the oil-broiled catfish, which had been dipped in lard, spiced with salt, black pepper and thyme and broiled in a large oven. The fish was served skewered on a stick.
Beyond being a place to blend in, the Gullet’s roof offered Petie a place to perch and await word from Stephi. The familiar was to warn Glenn, sitting in the establishment’s open porch, that the dwarf had left the Bugle. The other benefit was that the Gullet sold a necessary prop for their ambush. Clay jugs filled with cheap whiskey.
The evening passed slowly and Glenn’s nerves became more and more on edge. The pair nursed their meal and their mugs of weak cider. While the alcohol content was low, the bladder filling was high. Their choice of drink also earned some snickers from those seated nearby. Fortunately it never went further than that.
Around eleven at night a couple of drunks began arguing in the middle of the cobblestone street.
Glenn watched with interest. Both men were armed. One carried an axe and the other was armed with a small sword, good for little more than thrusting. Both men wore gambeson, or thick padded jackets for armor. To Glenn they appeared to be warrior types. Maybe men-at-arms, hired by merchants to protect wagons travelling dangerous roads from city to city.
Both men leaned close, locking stares. An exchange of creative cuss words commenced, mixed with comments about one’s mother sleeping with flea-ridden goats and the other’s father favoring maggot-infested pig corpses.
Both Kirby and Glenn remained silent while many dining on the Gullet’s porch leaned against the wooden rail to observe. There was sufficient light for humans to pick out details. The Gullet’s customers began shouting encouragements. “You gonna take that from him?” “Who lets a man insult his mother like that?” “Only a yellow coward would take that insult lying down!”
When the louder man went for his axe, the thinner one drew his sword.
Kirby elbowed Glenn. “City Guard.”
The other patrons also spotted the four guardsmen coming around the nearby corner. Glenn wondered if they’d been summoned or if it was an unfortunate coincidence that the patrol route’s timing brought them to this street during the drunken argument.
As usual they wore chainmail vests along with blue and red-striped sashes reaching from left shoulder to right waist. Each had donned a Norman helmet with a thin nose guard extending down the front and two-inch wide metal plates that hung down on either side, protecting each guard’s temples and jaw while leaving hearing unimpaired. They were armed with spears and short swords and, as always, looked like they meant business.
Everyone on the porch went silent. A few customers grinned, a few sneered in disgust, but most watched on, eager and expectant.
The leader of the guardsmen, a corporal by the two black stripes on his sash, blew a shrill whistle and ordered the still-arguing men in the street, “Disarm.”
Both inebriated warriors turned to face the four enforcers of the law standing twelve feet away.
The axe-wielder cocked his head. The swordsman turned his stance unsteadily.
“We’re just talking here in the street,” Axe Man loudly explained.
Swordsman gestured with his sword over his head. “There’s plenty of room for you all to march around.” He lowered his sword. “We don’t mind.”
It wasn’t clear if the men, in their state, understood the gravity of the situation. Maybe they were strangers to the city. Glenn had been told that no one messed with the City Guard.
The corporal again ordered, “Disarm. Weapons on the street.”
The two drunks lowered their weapons, but didn’t drop them.
Swordsman asked, “Why, kind sir?”
At some unobserved signal the four guardsman advanced to attack, two against each defender. The drunks, sensing the danger, stepped back and raised their weapons instead of dropping them. To Glenn, it was unclear if dropping them at that point would’ve made a difference.
The swordsman managed to knock one spear thrust aside with his narrow blade but the second guardsman succeeded in his attack, drawing blood from the thin drunk’s left shoulder. At the same time Axe Man, suddenly enraged, charged to clash with the corporal and accompanying guardsman.
While Swordsman’s fight appeared somewhat choreographed, with him dodging and thrusting, twice with minor success, Axe Man’s turned into a close melee with his axe and fist against short swords. The corporal took a glancing axe-blow to the helmet, but shook it off within seconds. Shortly after that Axe Man collapsed under a hail of sword blows, most of which came after he was down on the ground.
Swordsman, unable to defend against two attackers, fell with one spear tip piercing his kidney and the other spear impaling him through the gut.
Everyone on the porch winced and frowned but said nothing. While some sentiment might lie with the two fallen men-at-arms, maybe even a little guilt for egging them on, nobody dared speak out.
The corporal’s intense glare at those watching from the porch motivated the Gullet’s customers to return to their tables. Glenn and Kirby watched out of the corner of their eyes as the two dead drunks were dragged away by the guardsmen.
“That might be good for us,” Kirby whispered. “They might not be back by the time the dwarf comes by.”
“Or,” Glenn lamented, “it might mean they call in extra men because there was trouble.”
“I don’t think so,” Kirby said, shaking his head and returning to his wooden mug half-filled with cider. “At worst, a replacement patrol, if the first one has to report or do paperwork.”
Kirby’s opinion didn’t convince Glenn. He hid it by lifting his own mug to his lips.
An hour later, around midnight, while Glenn and Kirby were discussing the bard’s song, Petie sounded off. “Warning. Warning.”
The bird’s jeering whistle stopped the Gullet’s table chatter for no more than a half moment. After shrugs and short laughs, and speculation if a cat or a rat had startled the bird, everything went back to normal.
Kirby was up, corked-jug of whisky under his arm. Glenn left two silver, six copper and four bronze coins on the table and waved goodbye to their quiet and unassuming waiter.
Once on the street, Petie landed on a crossbeam beneath a porch. His song and single bob, Glenn interpreted as, “One.”
That meant the dwarf was on the primary route back. Glenn shared this with Kirby and they meandered toward the pre-selected alley.
“Okay,” Kirby whispered, after taking a swig of the cheap whisky, swishing it around in his mouth and spitting it out, before spilling some on his leather armor. “We need to hang around, but not be noticed.” He scratched behind his ear. “Don’t look like we’re loitering.”
“Shouldn’t we hide out in the alley then?” Glenn asked, unsure how to not appear like he was loitering, when that was pretty much what he was doing. That, and getting butterflies in his stomach.
Kirby showed him how to walk slowly, stopping to look at something, notice a bat flitting overhead or adjust a buckle on his tunic, not make eye contact, yet be aware of who was around them and what they were doing.
The streets were sort of quiet after midnight. Most people moved directly toward where they wanted to be with little deviation. There were predators out there. Glenn hoped that Josiah, through his supposed connection with the thieves in town, had directed those folks who prowled the dark streets to leave Glenn and his party alone, at least for this night.
The sky above was mostly clear with the unfamiliar stars sparkling. The moon was on the rise, now visible above the buildings, unless the gnome wandered too close to one of them. Then he couldn’t see it.
Petie landed close again, signaling, “One,” then, “Near.”
Glenn relayed the message to Kirby, who then grinned in anticipation. Glenn wondered how Kirby could do that? How could he feel excited about what was going to happen? Kirby was a junior high kid. He’d been living a rough life as a social outcast, but...
Glenn tried not to stare at an obvious prostitute, identified by her tight short dress, high boots and corset that thrust her breasts upward. What really gave it away was that the parts of her breasts that weren’t supposed to be showing edged above the low-cut white blouse.
Startling himself, Glenn remembered he wasn’t supposed to stare, or draw attention.
The half-goblin thief signaled the worried gnome healer with a tip of his head. Silently the pair left their spot in front of a hat maker’s shop.
They meandered across the street to the narrow alley that ran between a furrier and a cobbler’s shop. Both establishments had second story apartments above and storage sheds behind them. The alleyway was muddy with a few stray weeds sprouting along the edges. The best thing was the placement of streetlamps. They left the alley’s opening in shadowy darkness. A perfect place for a cutthroat or mugger to get the drop on someone.
Glenn followed Kirby into the darkness. There were a few carrion beetles buzzing around a dead cat. It looked like a carriage ran it over earlier in the day and someone tossed it into the alley. The moon was reaching just the right height, so that its light touched the first few feet of the apartment above the furrier’s shop. That setup reflected a scant bit of light down into the alley, giving both Glenn’s gnomish eyes, and Kirby’s half-goblin ones enough to see like they were in a bedroom with a nightlight.
Kirby crouched down and looked around the corner of the cobbler’s shop, just above the level of its porch. It made Glenn wonder. Almost every business had a porch, and the vast majority of those were on the narrow side. Kirby saying, “There they are,” snapped the gnome healer back to worrying about the task at hand.
“There’s three dudes ahead of them,” Kirby said, his voice cracking in excitement. “Looks like two merchants and a hired man-at-arms escorting them. Our dwarf is about twenty feet behind, with that big dude we saw with him earlier.” Excitement filled the thief’s whispers. “Rex, I think his name is.”
Glenn remembered seeing the warrior follow Benxcob into the Blue Bugle. Remembered Rex’s hawk nose, big mace and long dagger, and armor. Derek, or maybe Ron, said he’d been a henchman for adventurers.
The gnome healer bit his lip and squeezed the business end of his cudgel. He felt the inlayed lines of silver, cold and smooth, against his fingers. His cudgel’s head wasn’t perfectly smooth anymore, having been in more than a few fights, many of them for his very life. So, of course, Glenn thought to himself, Benxcob wouldn’t wander the streets alone at night.
Thinking on that gave him a really bad feeling.
Kirby uncorked his jug, took a swig and spit it out, a little of the spray hitting his boots. He wanted to smell the part. “Show time.”
The thief must’ve seen something in Glenn’s eye. “Just pretend. Let your gnome personality show a bit. Lysine and Kalgore are right behind the dudes.”
Glenn nodded. He sure hoped so.
Kirby staggered out, leaning against the corner post supporting the cobbler’s porch. He curled a finger in the loop attached to the jug’s neck and rested it on his forearm and bicep while lifting it to his lips.
Glenn came up, reached over and snatched the jug away, spilling some of the whiskey. “No more!” He turned his body so that the jug was out of Kirby’s reach.
“Aww, mannn,” Kirby slurred. Then he pretended to just take notice. “Dwarf dude,” he said, pointing unsteadily at the black-bearded dwarf tromping down the middle of the cobblestone street. “T-Tell my frrriend to give me back my boozzze.”
Benxcob slowed his stride and glanced over at Kirby. The big man, Rex, said, “Ignore the little ox turd.”
The dwarf looked pretty angry. Glenn smiled meekly while observing the dwarf’s clenched teeth and drawn eyebrows.
Benxcob continued walking, and growled up at Rex, “When did you become a goblin lover?”
“Aww, mann,” Kirby said again. “Youu won’t tell my frriend ’cause yourr mommm loves my pops?” Kirby leaned forward. “He’s a goblin, ya know.”
“Come on, Benx,” Rex urged, looking around. Apparently he spotted someone down the street, behind them. “He ain’t worth it.”
The dwarf started forward again, shouting over his shoulder, “Your pops preferred goats to your mother, half-breed.”
Kirby pretended to start getting sick, then stood up straight and pointed. “That’sss it, dwwarf,” he said like some revelation had just struck him. “The scraawwwny goat your pops bedded to bringgg you b-birthed into the world has a betterrr beard than you.”
The instant the dwarf turned on his heel and began stomping toward Kirby, the half-goblin thief clutched his stomach and pretended like he was going to heave. He staggered back into the dark alley.
Rex followed behind the dwarf. “Benx, this ain’t going to make things no better.”
Glenn steadied himself to play his part. He set the clay jug on the ground. “Mister,” he said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “He didn’t mean it. He’s drunk.” The gnome healer stepped back, giving Benxcob wide berth.
Glenn wanted to flash a glimpse down the street, reassure himself that Ron and Derek were close. He didn’t. Instead, he looked up at the trailing human. “Sir, not you too?”
The man looked neither frustrated nor angry, nor concerned. The glint in his eyes and half smile suggested amusement.
Keeping out of arm’s reach, Glenn trailed the human, Rex, into the dark alley.