Ah, thanks for the heads-up; I generally write these at work (shhh...) in between projects, and don't have my mags handy. I write them mostly from memory and check details when I get home. When I get to something that I can't recall I install a placeholder. Guess I'd better start using 20 point font for those.
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Chapter 246
For a moment, Zenna was too surprised to do anything but stare. The young, beautiful noblewoman was the leader of the Stormblades, a rival band of adventurers who’d been a thorn in the collective sides of her and her companions since shortly after they’d arrived in Cauldron. They’d had a few ugly confrontations with members of the Stormblades, and the noble brats had taken credit—and a good percentage of the treasure—from some of the notable deeds they’d performed, such as breaking up the slaving ring of the half-dwarf Kazmojen and recovering magical wands of
control water from the cult of Triel Eldurast.
But it did not look as though the recent months had been friendly to Annah Taskerhill. She was still attractive and exotic, her dark skin smooth and unblemished, her features formed as if cast by an inspired sculptor. But her eyes were troubled, and darker circles hung under them, wrinkles that Zenna knew all too well, the marks left by stress, loss, and pain. She was dressed in the same style that Zenna remembered—expensive fabrics, fashionably cut, in all, rich—but she noticed a few small unmended tears and other slight blemishes that contrasted jarringly with the unnaturally perfect appearance that the bard had worn on their last meeting.
The noblewoman recovered first. “Ah. I’d heard you were back in town,” she said, her voice flat and without emotion, although Zenna thought she saw a hint of the fire she’d remembered in her eyes. “I thought maybe you’d all died, but Cara insisted you’d abandoned Cauldron, and gone onto greener pastures.”
“No, we’re still here,” Zenna said.
Dannel stepped forward, forming a tight triangle between them. “I have heard that things have gone badly for you of late.”
Annah bristled. “If you’re referring to Todd’s death, yes, that counts as ‘gone badly.’ But you’d be making a mistake, if you were to count the Stormblades out so quickly.”
Todd... ah yes, that jerk, Zenna thought. Todd Vanderboren had reminded her of nothing more than a weasel, and their last meeting at the Cusp of Sunrise had been an acrimonious one. Mole had gotten two thousand gold pieces out of him there, she remembered, gambling for high stakes in a dramatic game of gemsnatcher.
But she held her tongue, and Dannel was quick to reply, “No, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said soothingly, in that annoying way he had of making your anger drain away like water through a sieve. “I only meant... well, we’ve come to understand how important some things are, and how you don’t really appreciate them until you lose them.”
Annah looked at him in surprise, but then nodded. Zenna could sense the barrier still between them, but was surprised to find herself feeling sympathetic toward the woman as she turned away.
“I have to go,” she said, heading back for the front room.
“Hey, did I miss something?” Mole said, coming over to join them. “The dwarves didn’t wait—oh, was that Annah Taskerhill?”
“Come on, or there won’t be any food left at all,” Dannel said, directing the two women toward the long booth where the dwarves were already seated.
The back room was mostly empty, with most of the inn’s guests apparently preferring the more dynamic environment of the main room at the front. A few of the other patrons eating at the booths scattered along the walls shot them curious looks as they passed, but the air of tension hanging over Cauldron had inculcated in most people a strong interest in focusing on their own business, and although Zenna thought that she recognized a few faces, no one offered so much as a greeting.
Arun, however, gave them a wave and a nod, and gestured for them to take places at the open end of the booth. Hodge, who was flanked by a pair of tall steins on his left and a platter piled with the bones from what looked like a whole family of birds on his right, spared them a grunt as he continued stuffing bits of meat from his current project into his mouth. From the accumulation already present on his beard and his jacket, Zenna figured that he’d already been at it for quite some time.
“Nice of you to wait for us,” Dannel said dryly. Hodge’s reply was garbled over a mouthful of meat, but Zenna knew him well enough to guess at the content.
“Dwarves,” Mole said, hopping up onto a bench in an adjacent, vacant booth. “I just can’t do anything with these boys, and the gods know I’ve tried.”
Zenna saw that both dwarves were wearing their armor, and Hodge’s new axe was propped up against the wall within easy reach. She hadn’t seen him without the weapon since they’d won it from the orog chief, and while he hadn’t named it so far as she’d heard, Mole had already provided at least a dozen suggestions.
“Expecting trouble?” she asked, as she took a seat at the far end of the booth from the noisome dwarf.
Arun nodded grimly. “This city’s on edge,” he replied. “And I don’t care if they’re lawfully deputized or not, so long as half-orcs and ogres are walking the streets, I’ll keep my weapons close at hand.”
“Defying the law? How un-paladinlike of you, Arun,” Dannel said. “There may be hope for you yet, my friend.”
“A law that begets evil is the antithesis of justice,” the paladin replied. “And I am sensing much evil in Cauldron since our return.”
“Well, what I’m sensing now is the absence of a waitress,” Dannel replied lightly. “While yon dwarf’s antics have a way of reducing the appetite, I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast, and even ‘prancing elves’ need to eat.”
“Mra’ap ar’ll ‘ak yer a froofy sarad,” Hodge said, over a mouthful of food.
Zenna glanced over at Mole, and saw that the gnome had turned her attention from the light-hearted exchange out toward the front room. She followed her friend’s gaze, and saw a stirring of some sort in the front room. The angle through the arched exit didn’t give much of a view of the common beyond the edge of the bar, but there was something... an odd lull in the din, followed by a couple of surprised exclamations a few moments later.
A figure appeared under the low lintel, his head nearly scraping the weathered wooden arch. He was a half-orc, and at first glance Zenna thought he was one of the many mercenary soldiers who were ubiquitous in Cauldron now. But even before the man reached for the massive sword slung across his back, Zenna sensed something wrong. It took her a few heartbeats to register the discordant element.
The man was absolutely silent; he made no noise when he walked, and the sword slid from his scabbard without even the faintest whisper of sound. When he leapt forward, his heavy boot landed on the smooth floorboards without noise. Behind him, Zenna caught a glimpse of a slender woman, clad in studded leather armor with a billowing cloak spreading in her wake as she followed the warrior into the room.
“Ambush!” Zenna cried, an instant after Mole shouted a similar warning. Even as the others looked up from their conversation to see the intruders, Zenna opened her mouth to speak the words of a spell, knowing she was too late.
She managed one word before the charging warrior drew near enough for the magical
silence surrounding him to envelop them, and her magic fled.