The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [158]
Although her flesh creeped with nerves the whole way, Jill left the Bilge without incident and asked one of the town wardens the way to the Golden Dragon Inn. It turned out to be near the west gate, on the far side of the river, not far from the gwerbret’s dun. Bold as brass, they are, she thought to herself. As she crossed the white stone bridge that arched over the river, she felt Salamander’s mind tug at hers. She paused to lean over the rail and look down at the swift-flowing river. Although she failed to see his image, she could hear his thoughts in her mind and answer back.
“Jill, by the gods! I was trying to scry you out, and I saw you in the Bilge! You shouldn’t have gone there alone.”
“I did, and I lived, didn’t I? I’ve got some horrible news, but I doubt me if I should tell you this way.”
“It’s time for me to ‘hire’ you anyway. I’ve moved into the Golden Dragon Inn.”
“I’ll be round straightaway.”
As she went on, she was thinking that Briddyn must have a goodly amount of coin, if he shared Salamander’s taste in inns. She turned out to be right, because the Golden Dragon was a splendid three-story building in the Bardekian style—that is, a long rectangular plan with a curved roof like a ship turned upside down. At either end, set into the curving roof beams, were enormous wooden statues of some god or other with his hands raised in blessing. Before she went in, Jill circled the place, noticing how the lovely garden in the front became a mucky innyard in back, with the dung heap and the well too close together for such an expensive place. As she loitered there, a young lass in a dirty apron came out the back with a pair of water buckets. When Jill went over, the lass wrinkled her nose.
“Get along, silver dagger. I’m not the kind of lass that would be interested in the likes of you.”
“You’re not to my taste anyway,” Jill said, suppressing a smile. “All I want is a bit of information about one of the guests here, and I’ll pay for it.”
The lass considered, torn between greed and fear of her employer. When Jill held up a silver piece, the greed won.
“Who was this guest?”
“A merchant named Briddyn.”
“Oh, him!” She wrinkled her nose again. “I remember him well enough, my thanks, and a nasty lot he was. Always complaining, naught suited him, not the sheets, not the ale, not the wretched pot to piss in, I swear it. Thanks be to the gods that he left! I’d have gone daft if I’d had to wait upon him any longer.”
“I see.” Jill handed over the coin. “Do you know what he trafficked in?”
“Cloth. He rode in with a big caravan, and I heard the stablemen talking, saying that it’s a good thing his bales were light and easy to unload, because the bastard didn’t tip. And he had one special bale of cloth in his chamber. He told me that if I touched it, he’d slap me about, as if I’d be interested in his nasty cloth.”
“Did he have any visitors?”
“I never saw a one, but who would go visiting a nasty swine like that? When he left, he said he was going north to Dun Deverry. Huh—as if swine like that belonged in the king’s own city!”
Quite puzzled, Jill went on her way. It was the most peculiar turn so far, she decided; mysterious strangers bent on doing harm to someone normally don’t make such nuisances of themselves that every servant remembers them. As soon as she opened the front door of the inn, the innkeep and a beefy young man ran across the tavern room to bar her way.
“No silver daggers in my inn! Try the Capstan, lad.”
“One of your guests summoned me here, pork gut. Salamander the gerthddyn said he had a hire for me.”
When the innkeep snarled under his breath, she laid her hand on her sword hilt. He stepped back sharply.
“I’ll send a lad up to ask, silver dagger.” His voice shook badly. “But you’d best be telling the truth, or I’ll have the wardens on you.”
Jill crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him until the lad returned with the news that Salamander did indeed want a silver