Realms of the Underdark - J. Robert King [109]
"Hey, Pig," Wurlitzer, the orcish bartender, called as
Woodehous entered the establishment, "how's the trade at Traitor's?"
"Typical," Woodehous replied, taking a place at the bar to avoid a rather raucous group gathered at the tables. He requested, "The usual, please, my good fellow."
The bartender snorted in agreement and poured the fallen-from-grace society caterer a glass of wine. "Have you heard about the new place opening down the street? I think it's called the Cup and Lizard, or something."
"You mean the Flagon and the Dragon," Woodehous corrected.
"That's right," Wurlitzer agreed, setting a plate in front of the recently arrived customer. "I believe they're looking for experienced help. You want me to put in a good word for you?"
"You're the second person today who has offered to 'put in a good word for me,' and though your kindness is appreciated, I prefer to decline at this time. My next position must certainly be as far away as possible from this hellhole we call home," Woodehous replied.
"Skullport's not such a bad place," the ore responded defensively. "I've lived here me whole life, and although it's a slight comedown for the upper-crust likes of you, I have a feeling things are beginning to look up."
"Oh, really?" Woodehous replied sarcastically, immediately afterward hoping that he hadn't hurt Wurlitzer's feelings. The ore was the closest thing he had to a friend. "How so?"
Wurlitzer immediately began to brim with excitement.
"I was hoping you'd ask," the ore replied. "Guess who we have as a guest tonight?"
"I have no idea," Woodehous replied, in no mood for guessing games.
"It's an old friend of yours," the ore prodded. "C'mon, guess."
Realizing the bartender wouldn't give up until he did, Woodehous swallowed the sustenance that was in his mouth, wiped his lips with a napkin, and, with a shrug, named the first person that came to mind.
"I really have no idea-" he said, then offered "-the legendary gazetteer, Volothamp Geddarm?"
A look of puzzlement seized the ore visage.
"Does he also like to be called Volo?" Wurlitzer asked, obviously not familiar with the great author's full name.
Woodehous was taken aback in shock.
"You mean Volothamp Geddarm is here… tonight?" he asked incredulously.
Wurlitzer scratched his head, trying to spur on his meager mental faculties. "If you mean the guy who does those guidebooks and likes to be called Volo and was supposed to give you a good review at the Shipmaster's Hall, well, yeah."
"Where is he?" Woodehous demanded.
"Over there," the ore replied, gesturing to the raucous group at the tables. "He seems to be holding court or something. He started out telling a few really neat stories about his travels and attracted a crowd."
A cry of "Yeehah!" was heard from the other side of the room, followed by peals of laughter from various revelers.
"And the next one's even better," the same voice bellowed, an alcoholic slur evident in his voice.
"He seems to be a bit in his cups already," Woodehous observed out loud.
"Sure does," Wurlitzer agreed. "I like it when a newcomer sees fit to enjoy all of the Double G's empties."
"You mean amenities," Woodehous corrected, leaving his barstool to take a place at one of the tables along the periphery of the VIP's audience.
The ore watched in puzzlement, unaware of his own propensity for malapropisms.
Woodehous quickly scanned the numerous empty chairs that surrounded the legendary gazetteer; more than a few of the supper club's clientele had gotten their fill of the entertainment provided by the jaunty and