• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 996 0

more cramped together. Randur peered through lantern-lit windows in the crudely built shacks to see large families huddled together inside—cheek by jowl, as his mother would have said. Amazing that the sunlight would never penetrate this far to brighten their lives. The walls were so flimsy that every sound could be heard by the neighbors. What must it be like trying to sleep with babies crying all around them in the night? Not even gardens in which children could play, and the damp washing was strung up in front of their doorways. Everywhere monotonous shades of brown, gray, black. Surely if those refugees outside the city knew what it was really like to live in Villjamur then they would prefer to take their chances with the ice.

The outline of a vague shape was stretching across the entire roof of the cavern. Something up there glittered faintly like starlight. But that would have been impossible.

And it suddenly struck him how completely anonymous he was in Caveside. Despite his new position at court, he was now in an alien city where no one had heard of him. That gave him a peculiar sensation when he paced the muddy cobbles.

Suddenly, from a building to his left, two men burst onto the street brawling. A cloud of alcohol followed as several men piled out of the tavern after them, cheering them on. Light from the open doorway spilled out on the grotesque scene. The brawlers cursed each other and rolled about on the ground. They punched each other’s faces and grabbed each other’s garments as if to frantically swap clothes.

I reckon this must be one of the places I’m looking for.

Someone from the crowd stepped forward and kicked one of the fighters on the head with a solid-looking boot. It snapped back, neck broken, its owner lying perfectly still. The other man got up, brushed himself down, patted the killer on the shoulder. Together with the gathered onlookers, who were muttering approvingly, they returned inside. Randur studied the inn’s sign. He had indeed arrived at the Garuda’s Head, a crudely whitewashed building, with a pair of external torches burning. As the corpse lay on the ground in a pool of blood, a banshee could be seen approaching in the murky light. Randur stepped quickly into the tavern.

Everyone turned to stare as the stranger walked toward the bar, the sound of conversation dipped. Even with a shelf of candles distributed around the room, the place was barely navigable. The walls were plain, with little decoration, just the odd dull and faded painting of battle and hunting scenes mainly, the odd seascape. Fishing nets hung from the ceiling, wood paneling glowing behind. He tried to gauge the tenor of conversations, but all he could hear was the hushed mumble of men talking into their drinks.

Randur leaned boldly against the wooden countertop at the far end of the tavern. Rough-looking types stared at him suspiciously through a cloud of pipe smoke. He could smell arum weed, lager, and fish being fried in some other room. The counter was littered with tankards and used plates that no one had bothered to clear up.

Randur produced a knife from out of his sleeve, and slammed it on the counter followed by a handful of coins, which eventually rattled to a rest. “Lager,” he announced to the grubby man standing behind the counter.

“You’ll need more money than that,” the fat barman replied, wiping sweat from his cheek.

Randur laughed awkwardly, pretended to rummage in his various pockets. He placed another few Drakar on the table. “That’s all I’ve got.”

The barman counted the coins slowly before grunting what sounded close to an approval. He turned to one side to pull the drink. Having given that little display, surely no one would think Randur worth robbing.

A gray-haired man propped to his right, muttered, “Pretty flashy blade that.” He indicated the onyx-handled knife that Randur had placed on the bar counter. “You wanna be careful you don’t get it taken from you. You can never be too careful in Caveside, like.”

“I wouldn’t worry yourself,” Randur replied defensively.

“Just sayin’, like.” The