Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [120]
This unfortunate resemblance had certainly not impaired William’s temper, however. A sailor by trade until he had retired to fulfill a lifelong ambition of keeping an inn, there was not a more respected or well-liked man in Port Balifor than William Sweetwater. No one laughed more heartily at pig jokes than did William. He could even grunt quite realistically and often did pig imitations for the amusement of his customers. (But no one ever—after the untimely death of Peg-Leg Al—called William by the name “Piggy.”)
William rarely grunted for his customers these days. The atmosphere of the Pig and Whistle was dark and gloomy. The few old customers that came sat huddled together, talking in low voices. For Port Balifor was an occupied town—overrun by the armies of the highlords, whose ships had recently sailed into the Bay, disgorging troops of the hideous dragonmen.
The people of Port Balifor—mostly humans—felt extremely sorry for themselves. They had no knowledge of what was going on in the outside world, of course, or they would have counted their blessings. No dragons came to burn their town. The draconians generally left the citizens alone. The Dragon Highlords were not particularly interested in the eastern part of the Ansalon continent. The land was sparsely populated: a few poor, scattered communities of humans and Kendermore, the homeland of the kenders. A flight of dragons could have leveled the countryside, but the Dragon Highlords were concentrating their strength in the north and the west. As long as the ports remained opened, the Highlords had no need to devastate the lands of Balifor and Goodlund.
Although not many old customers came to the Pig and Whistle, business had improved for William Sweetwater. The draconian and goblin troops of the Highlord were well paid, and their one weakness was strong drink. But William had not opened his tavern for money. He loved the companionship of old friends and new. He did not enjoy the companionship of the Highlord’s troops. When they came in, his old customers left. Therefore, William promptly raised his prices for draconians to three times higher than in any other inn in town. He also watered the ale. Consequently, his bar was nearly deserted except for a few old friends. This arrangement suited William fine.
He was talking to a few of these friends—sailors mostly, with brown, weathered skin and no teeth—on the evening that the strangers entered his tavern. William glared at them suspiciously for a moment, as did his friends. But, seeing road-weary travelers and not the Highlord’s soldiers, he greeted them cordially and showed them to a table in the corner.
The strangers ordered ale all around—except for a red-robed man who ordered nothing but hot water. Then, after a subdued discussion centering around a worn leather purse and the number of coins therein, they asked William to bring them bread and cheese.
“They’re not from these parts,” William said to his friends in a low voice as he drew the ale from a special keg he kept beneath the bar (not the keg for draconians). “And poor as a sailor after a week ashore, if I make my guess.”
“Refugees,” said his friend, eyeing them speculatively.
“Odd mixture, though,” added the other sailor. “Yon red-bearded fellow’s a half-elf, if ever I saw one. And the big one’s got weapons enough to take on the Highlord’s whole army.”
“I’ll wager he’s stuck a few of them with that sword, too,” William grunted. “They’re on the run from something, I’ll bet. Look at the way that bearded fellow keeps his eyes on the door. Well, we can’t help them fight the Highlord, but I’ll see they don’t want for anything.” He went to serve them.
“Put your money away,” William said gruffly, plunking down not only bread and cheese but also a tray full of cold meats as well. He shoved the coins away. “You’re in trouble of some kind, that’s plain as this pig’s snout upon my face.”
One of the women smiled at him. She was the most beautiful woman William had ever seen. Her silver-gold