Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [5]
Cutter. That was the name the guards at the gate had spoken. Curious, Caledan moved over and sat next to the man, whom the other patrons seemed to be purposefully ignoring.
"Just who is this 'Cutter?" Caledan asked, trying to make his tone as sympathetic as possible. "Is Cutter the city lord?"
"Aye," the dockhand said glumly. "Ever since good old Bron disappeared a year or so ago. Wasn't so bad at first, but that didn't last long. Seems old Cutter never runs out o' rules, and all of them boil down to the same thing-there's nothing worth having or doing that's allowed no more. And you learn quick enough all right not to break any of 'em. You do that, and Cutter's guards haul you away, and no one ever sees you again." He paused for a moment, taking a reflexive pull on his mug and frowning when he realized it was only water. By the look of him, he must have swallowed as much ale as he could possibly hold before the sun had set. "You just come into the city?" he asked.
Caledan nodded. "I've been traveling for a long time."
"Well, you shouldn't 'ave come here," the dockhand said, and after that he fell into a gloomy silence. Caledan left him in peace.
The nervous innkeep came back not long after with a plate of food for Caledan. The fare was good-a thick stew, cheese, and brown bread-but there wasn't much of it. He had just finished eating when the door of the inn opened, and a tall, fierce man clad in the livery of a city guard stepped through. A tense hush fell over the common room. Conversations halted in midsentence, and forks froze in midair.
The guard scanned the room slowly with hard eyes. His countenance was harsh and proud, his sharp cheekbones each outlined by a thin white scar. His hand rested with practiced ease on the polished sword hilt at his hip. This man was a warrior, and a dangerous one at that, Caledan thought.
"Innkeep, bring me food," he barked in a guttural voice. "Make it your best, and make it quick. Otherwise I might get angry." A cruel smile touched his thin lips, and his dark eyes glittered perilously. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
The innkeep swallowed hard and bobbed his head, scurrying off to the kitchen like a frightened mouse. The guard sat at a table in a dim corner, a leer on his face. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.
Gradually, the conversation in the common room started up again, though now it was even more subdued than before. The nervous little innkeep brought a steaming platter of roasted meat for the guard and received only a harsh glare in payment.
"Friend," Caledan said softly, turning to the nearby dock-hand who was scowling at his mug, "you wouldn't happen to know who that cheerful-looking fellow in the corner is, would you?"
"Him?" the deckhand grunted. "He's one of Cutter's captains, he is. Let me tell you, stranger, you don't want to have no trouble with him. He'd gut you as soon as say good-day to you. You'd do best to keep out of his way, you would."
"Thanks for the advice. Here." Caledan slipped a few coins toward the fellow. "Wait until dawn, then buy yourself a mug or two."
"Say! Gods be with you, lordship," the dockhand said. His bleary eyes glimmered as he pocketed the coins, but Caledan had already moved away toward a shadowed alcove where he could watch the guard without risk of notice.
The guard's black leather jerkin was emblazoned with the traditional symbol of Iriaebor-a silver tower above an azure river. However, Caledan noticed that a crimson moon had been added to the insignia, rising behind the tower. No doubt that was Lord Cutter's touch. Caledan found he cared for it as little as the other changes which had befallen the city.
When the guard finished his food, he roughly pushed his plate away and stood. His chair clattered to the floor, and the inn fell deathly silent.
"What are you maggots staring at?" the guard snarled. The patrons in the room quickly averted their eyes. The guard snorted in disgust and then swaggered out the inn's doorway.
Pausing a few moments, so as not to appear as if he were following,