Mary Herbert - Dragon's Bluff

“This used to be the barracks of the Black and White armies stationed here before the Chaos War,” Challie said before anyone could ask. “Malys has burned it several times, but I think it has protective wards built into the walls. It won’t fall down.”

“What is it now?” asked Ulin.

“Our lord mayor uses it as his city hall.”

A laugh welled out of Lucy. “This place has a mayor?”

The dwarf nodded, her dark eyes unblinking. “To give him credit, he tries.”

The title of lord mayor triggered a memory in Ulin’s mind of another detail from his grandfather’s tales. “What happened to Highmaster Toede?”

“Who?” Lucy said.

“He was a hobgoblin who wormed and kicked his way into a position of power in the service of the Dragon Highlord.” Ulin explained. “He was lord mayor of Flotsam for years.”

Challie agreed with his description. “The old monster died about five years ago after Malys razed his manor and everything else on the Rock.”

Ulin found his gaze searching the rocky headland for landmarks he’d heard about. Nothing was there. The Rock had been stripped bare of Toede’s two-story manor, the inn called the Saltbreeze, the treasury, and every hut, house, shed, or outhouse all the way down to the wharves at its base.

“The Red Marauder has been rather hard on this town,” Challie observed.

An obvious understatement, thought Ulin.

A party of four waited for them on the step in front of the old barracks. They greeted Challie warmly then turned to meet the two new arrivals with barely concealed relief.

Challie made the introductions. “Ulin, Lucy, this is Lord Mayor Efrim Getani and the Flotsam City Council.”

Mayor Efrim bowed stiffly, and Ulin feared for a moment the mayor would not be able to straighten up again. The man was at least as old as his grandfather and not nearly as hale. His fragile body swayed within his red robes that seemed several sizes too big for him. Pushing on his cane, he managed to lever himself to an upright position and bestow a toothless smile on everyone. A thin beard framed his narrow face and continued in a ring of white around his bald head.

“Mayor Efrim was a pirate once,” Challie said, eyeing the old man with a glint of irritable respect. “He and my grandfather fought together.”

“Saved your life, too, you old rascal,” Efrim said through toothless gums.

“And he thinks I’m my grandfather,” the dwarf added to her two companions.

“I, however, suffer no such delusions,” said the second man. He was much younger, perhaps in his fifties, and the only portly man they had seen so far in Flotsam. His round face sweated profusely in the hot afternoon sun, and he constantly wiped it with a damp handkerchief. He took the mayor’s arm to help support him. “I am Geoff Aylesworthy of the Flotsam City Council. I am also the owner of the Jetties, the finest inn in Flotsam. Please allow me to reserve two rooms for you at my establishment.”

“Take them,” suggested Challie. “He’s not kidding. He does have the best inn since the Saltbreeze burned down. I’ve had a room there for several months.”

“And a stall, too?” Lucy asked.

Aylesworthy mopped his face again. “Of course. It will be my pleasure to have you stay.”

“How‌long‌are‌you‌planning‌to‌stay‌in‌Flotsam?” inquired the third person. Shorter than Challie, the diminutive, bright-eyed male was a gnome with rich brown skin, a snowy-white beard braided in two braids, and a large nose. He had a small lantern tied to his stiff hat and a fistful of small tools on his belt. His clothes were dusty and smudged with something gray. Like most gnomes, he tended to talk so quickly his words bumped and ran together into a bouncing stream of words.

Mayor Efrim held a skinny hand to his ear. “Notwen, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Slow down.”

“Only until I identify my father’s body,” Lucy answered before the gnome had to ask again.

A glance, so swift Ulin almost missed it, passed among the council members.

“Ah, yes. Kethril Torkay,” the fourth elder said in a voice meant to be comforting. “A fine man. We shall miss him, dear.”

Lucy curled her lip. “You didn’t know him then.”

The innkeeper chuckled. “We all knew of him, Lady Lucy. He was a man of many talents.”

“Quite,” she replied dryly. “Then can you tell me where his body lies?”

Again that lightning swift look of communication passed between the elders. Aylesworthy barely nodded.

“Unfortunately, we have suffered a miscommunication,” said the fourth council member. She was an elderly lady, almost as old as Mayor Efrim, but her body was not as frail, and when she tilted her head to look at Lucy, Ulin saw the clear glint of a sharp intelligence behind her deep set eyes. Challie introduced her simply as Saorsha.

“We don’t know exactly where he is,” Mayor Efrim said. At least he had the decency to look red-faced and embarrassed.

Lucy’s green eyes darkened. This was difficult enough without these four old politicians acting stupid. She reached into her pack and pulled out the worn, folded letter her family had received. She flipped it open and waved in their faces. “You asked us here on this trumped-up tale to view my father’s remains,” she said angrily. “Now where is he?”

Ulin, wary now, studied the faces of the elders and the dwarf around him to note their reactions. If the blank look Challie gave the council was feigned, then the dwarf was a consummate actress. The rest of the council appeared worried and very uneasy. About what? Ulin wondered.

Mayor Efrim recovered first. He puffed out his thin chest and replied, “He has been buried, of course.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “We know that.”

“Oh. Um, where did they bury the body?” Efrim fumbled and turned to the innkeeper.

Aylesworthy fluttered a pudgy hand. “That is the problem, remember Mayor? We don’t really know. We asked our usual burial detail to put the corpse in a safe place.” He sighed. “They hid it so well, they cannot remember where they put it.”

“How convenient,” Lucy muttered. “What do you plan to do about this difficulty?”

Mayor Efrim spread out his hands in a reassuring gesture. “Search for him, of course! We haven’t done so yet simply because we were not certain you would accept our offer. Please! Allow us to find his body for you. It should only take a few days, and it would be our pleasure to have you stay in our town.”

Lucy pursed her lips and studied the elders. Something was not right with this situation. She knew the elders were not being entirely truthful with her, and she could sense Challie had something to hide, too. But what? If her father was not dead, why bother lying about it? And if his body was truly missing or destroyed, why couldn’t they just admit it?

It was too confusing. She was hot, tired, and weary of travel. She could see the exhaustion on Challie’s face, too, and the hollows under Ulin’s eyes. They all needed rest. If the city council was willing to help her, she could give them four or five days to prove it. If she didn’t have her father’s body by then, or at least a reasonable explanation of his disappearance, she would take matters into her own hands. She looked up into Ulin’s eyes and saw the same suspicious glint she knew must be in her own. He tilted his chin down and winked once, and she knew without asking that he would accept whatever decision she made.

Lucy extended her hand as if to seal a deal. “Thank you, Mayor Efrim. I accept your offer.”

Innkeeper Aylesworthy was as good as his word. He hurried away after the meeting on the steps, and by the time Ulin, Lucy, and Challie had walked to the Jetties on the south side of Flotsam, he had two adjoining rooms and a stall cleaned and ready for them. The Jetties proved to be a ramshackle, sprawling building that looked like it had been thrown together by shoving several different houses together and tacking on a few sheds for good measure. Its main room and bar occupied the central space in an edifice faced with chunks of stone mortared together like a puzzle.