Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [58]
"Well met, old father!"
The man's long eyebrows twitched. "Well met, young daughter." He switched the stem of a clay pipe to the other side of his mouth as his eyes traveled slowly up and down her body. Feena fought back an urge to growl at him. He sighed regretfully. "Lass, if I were thirty years younger, your virtue would be in danger."
She gave him a sharp-toothed smile. "Really?" she asked. "From what?"
The old man choked on his pipe smoke and let out a long, rattling laugh.
"Well, aren't you a shark out of water," he wheezed after a moment. His eyes fixed on her face. "Eyes like an angel, tongue like a guard. You've got questions, don't you?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"When anyone comes into the Cutter's Dip and doesn't belly up to the bar first thing, they've got questions." His pipe switched sides again and smoke drifted out of his mouth with his words. "But you're lucky. I've got nothing to hide, especially from a woman as lovely as you." His eyes began to wander downward again. "Ask away, daughter, ask away."
Feena ground her teeth and crossed her arms over her bosom. The old man puffed smoke in disappointment. Feena drove straight to the point.
"The walkway behind this place-it looks over a courtyard," she said. "I'm trying to find someone who might have seen anything happen there five nights ago."
The man's pipe drooped in his teeth, then snapped up as he clenched his jaw. His fingers made a sign against evil.
"Beshaba's ivory arms," he hissed. "Are you mad? It was a werewolf-tore a man to bits down there."
"I've heard that," Feena said. "I'm looking for more information. If anyone was back there and looked down or if anyone in here heard anything, I'd like to know."
"Listen for yourself, girl! You can't hear from one side of this place to the other!" The old man reached for a mug of ale with a trembling hand. "I was in here that night. Sat right here while a man was slaughtered not sixty feet away. If I'd gone out to have a splash at the wrong time, that could have been me down there!" He gulped from his mug.
"Here, Noyle, what's wrong?"
The barkeep leaned over sharply. Other patrons standing by the bar turned to look as well. Before she knew it, the old man had become the center of attention, and Feena along with him.
"The wolf of the Stiltways," Noyle moaned. He glared at Feena. "I don't know what a woman like you would be doing looking for a beast like that, daughter, but let me tell you-I've a friend and his grandson's wife saw the monster prowling that night." He slammed his mug down. "Aye, she chanced to be awake and look down from her window as it stalked out of the Stiltways, its fur slick and red with blood by the full moon's light, and in its claws-" he stuck out his hand, his fingers curled up-"it carried the heart of its victim!"
Feena swallowed. The Sharran's flask, of course, and her own russet fur, altered by the sleepless woman's tales- She ran her tongue around her lips.
"Actually, the full moon was a tenday ago," she said awkwardly.
All eyes turned to her. Noyle shook his curled fingers under her nose.
"Have some respect for a murdered man, girl!" he said. "By the twin gauntlets of Torm and Helm, I hope that when they catch that monster they stretch its skin over Yhaunn's gates and sink its bloody corpse in the harbor!"
"Here, here!" cheered the spectators around the bar.
A shudder of discomfort ran down Feena's back. As the spectators raised their mugs and drank, she slipped away.
Or tried to. Her back bumped up against a man's firm chest.
"Well, would you look at this, Drik! It's our feisty missus from the other night!" Hands spun her around and Feena found herself staring into Stag's leering face. He bared his teeth in a nasty smile. "Well met, red bird! Going to show us your legs again?"
Feena clenched her jaw, hissed, "With pleasure!"- and jabbed her knee up at Stag's groin.
The bandit twisted deftly out of the way.
"Not this time, red bird," he said. "Not so easy