The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [110]
Having thus satisfied the 'talk with a sailor' requirement, Tangorn imperiously tossed a Vendotenian gold nyanma on the bar: "Tequila, barman – but only the best!"
The barman, whose droopy moustache made him resemble a seal, sniggered: "We've only one kind, man – the best, same as the worst. Want some?"
"Hell, whatcha gonna do?.. All right, slice me some lemon for a chaser, then."
Right after he settled down at a table in the rear left corner with his tequila he caught a movement with a corner of his eye and knew immediately, even before identifying the foe, that he was busted. They certainly were here before he was, which meant they hadn't tailed him here; therefore, the contact itself is compromised – they were waiting for a Mordorian courier and now their wait paid off. What a stupid way to blow the mission! The four 'skuas' split up, two taking up positions by the front door and the other two heading his way, smoothly navigating around tables, both with right hands inside their jackets. Had the baron had the Slumber-maker with him, he could have dealt with those characters easily and without even damaging them too much, but a sword would have been unharmonious with his chosen disguise, so now, unarmed, he was their lawful prey. So much for "real pros don't carry weapons!" For a moment he toyed with a really crazy idea: smash the bottle against the table and… what the hell are you thinking? he restrained himself, a 'rosette' is no sword, it's no good against four; no, you can only count on your head now… your head and your Fortune. But first, got to foul up their routine and buy some time. Which was why he did not even rise to meet them; rather, he waited until an ominous "Hands on the table and stay seated" sounded right above his ear, and then turned slightly towards the speaker and spat through his teeth: "Idiots! To ruin such an operation…" Then he sighed and tiredly told the one on the right: "Shut your trap, cretin, before a nazgúl flies into it!"
"You're coming with us, and no fooling," that one informed him, but there was discernible doubt in his voice: they had not expected the captured 'Orc' to speak with a chiseled Minas Tirith accent.
"With you, of course, where else? To administer an acid enema to the imbeciles that stick their noses everywhere without informing the HQ… But, with your permission," the baron continued with mocking politeness, "I'll still have my drink – to my captain's badge, now nothing but a dream… Don't stand over me like the White Towers! Where am I gonna go? Pat me down for weapons, if you want, I'm not carrying any."
The 'skua' on the right looked ready to salute. The one on the left, however, either was not impressed, or was, but knew the manual better. He sat down across from the baron and motioned his comrade to take position behind their quarry.
"Keep your hands on the table, otherwise… you know." With those words he poured Tangorn a shot of tequila, explaining: "I'll serve you myself, just in case."
"Wonderful!" smirked the baron (actually, there's nothing wonderful about the situation: one foe is right in front, tracking his face and eyes, the other is behind, ready to smash his head – can't make it any worse.) "Will you lick my finger, too?"
When the man's eyes flared with anger, Tangorn laughed conciliatorily, as if just now realizing his mistake: "Sorry, buddy, no offense meant. I just twigged that you must not have been in this town very long and don't know how to drink tequila. You all probably think it's moonshine, bad hooch, right? No, nothing of the sort. I mean, sure, if you drink it by the glass without a chaser, then yeah, it stinks; but really it's great stuff, you just have to know how to drink it. The thing here is," Tangorn relaxed against the back of his chair and dreamily half-closed his eyes, "to alternate its taste with salt and sourness. Watch this: you put a pinch of salt on your thumbnail – have to lick it for the salt to stay there," with those words he reached towards the small salt-and-pepper bowl in the middle of