Azure bonds - Kate Novak [63]
"And the loud barbarian and cleric?" Alias asked, turning to discover the reaction of the other patrons when the fighter pulled out his weapon, but both were engaged in draining large mugs of ale.
"They're old friends from way back. They've had this argument at least a hundred times before in this very place, and in as many other inns."
"So, what did cause the fire? Does it have anything to do with why the pass is deserted?"
"Patience, my dear, patience," her drinking companion chided. He raised her glass to her mouth and tilted the ambrosial liquid so that it flowed past her lips. Alias grasped the stem and swallowed until the entire draught was consumed. A greater heat washed over her, and she slipped off her cape.
"You know what your problem is?" the man asked.
"No, what?" She reached for the wine bottle and poured herself a third glass.
"You aren't used to acquiring information slowly, listening to people explain things in their own way, experiencing life as it comes. You expect someone to just pour everything you want to know into you, as though it were a bottle of wine." He raised the wine bottle and filled his glass again. "Ah!" he said with glee, his eyes fixed on the doorway. "Finally, a principal actor."
Alias turned. The man was not the one she was waiting for either. A small man, he was dressed like a merchant, with a purple robe gathered at his waist and a fat, over-stuffed hat with a long, swan feather plume on his head.
The small man climbed upon a low, stone platform opposite the fire pit, waved a parchment scroll over his head, and shouted "Silence!"
Half the conversations died out, but a few scattered patrons continued chattering. The quieted persons turned their attention to the merchant. Assured of at least a partial audience, the man unrolled his scroll and began to read.
"Hear, all and sundry, the words of the Iron Throne." The last words caught the attention of those who had ignored him. Silence blanketed the room.
The herald paused for effect. Alias frowned. The eyes of the young man beside her twinkled merrily. "The Iron Throne," her companion explained in a hushed whisper without taking his eyes from the speaker, "is a young trading organization, just beginning to compete with the better established merchant houses. Their favorite strategies include force, treachery, and magic."
The herald read on. "The Iron Throne is much concerned with the growing violence in the north, violence fed by the arms merchants who line their own pockets at the expense of others."
"The Iron Throne should know, their pockets bulge, too!" a heckler called out, followed by a spattering of applause.
The herald's eyes narrowed. "Hence, the Iron Throne pronounces an anathema upon the warmongering merchants and will close Shadow Gap for thirty days."
Boos and catcalls followed.
"It would take four divisions of mercenaries, at least, to hold this pass," Alias commented.
"You think so?" the young man replied with a laugh. "Wait and see, shall we?"
"All those within Shadow Gap will be allowed to leave, but they may carry no weapons of war. Thus will the Iron Throne demonstrate its ability to keep peace in the region," the herald concluded.
"Bull spittle!" shouted the barbarian in the corner booth, rising drunkenly to his feet. "The Iron Throne is shipping weapons by the cartloads to goblins and maggots from Zhentil Keep! They just want to keep the Dales light in armaments for their Zhentarim masters! It will take more than a proclamation-spouting toady to keep us from aiding the free people of the north."
The herald glared malevolently at the barbarian.
Sensing some unseen power, the cleric tried to pull his friend back to his side, but the barbarian strode over to the herald. The warrior towered above the smaller man, even though the herald stood on the raised platform. He yanked the parchment