Brian Pratt - The star of Morcyth

Back by the stables, Gunther the stableboy shows them which stalls will be theirs. Once the horses are secured within their stalls, he gets pails of grain ready for each and then starts currying them.

James and the others make their way to the inn and enter through the back door. Taking the stairs, they head up to their rooms where they get settled in before going downstairs for dinner.

Miko is somewhat put out about having to share a room with Jiron. He would rather be sharing one with James, but his friend Dave has that honor. “I don’t see why he has to always get to be with James,” he complains to Jiron.

Turning to him, Jiron explains, “They’ve known each other a long time, far longer than any of us have known him. Besides, he still doesn’t speak the language very well though he is doing better.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually defending him,” states Miko.

Getting a slightly angry look on his face, Jiron says, “I’m not defending him, merely answering your question. I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I,” admits Miko. “I try to get along with him for James’ sake.”

“I know,” he says.

Knock! Knock!

“Come in,” hollers Jiron. James opens the door, his friend Dave is standing in the hall behind him.

“We’re heading down for something to eat,” he tells them. “You guys want to join us?”

“Sure,” says Miko as he heads for the door.

“Be down in a minute,” replies Jiron.

“Alright,” says James as he steps aside to allow Miko to pass into the hall. “See you in a bit.”

Illan and Fifer have just come out of their room and they all go downstairs where they find a table large enough for all of them. Several minutes later, Jiron joins them.

They order their food and are soon enjoying a meal of spiced ham, bread and assorted vegetables. A group of four musicians take the stage and before long the room is filled with rollicking music.

James sits back and enjoys himself, listening to the musicians and watching them play their instruments. From all around him, the buzz of conversation is subdued as they all wish to hear and enjoy the music of the musicians. From out of the buzz, one comment is overheard from a man sitting just behind him.

“…hear the Empire’s ambassador is seen going to the castle regularly the last few days.”

“I heard that too,” the other man at the table says.

Turning around, James asks them, “Did you just say there’s an ambassador from the Empire here?”

Somewhat taken aback at his interrupting their conversation, one man says, “It isn’t polite listening in on other people’s conversation.”

“How rude,” the other man says with an annoyed expression.

“Sorry,” apologizes James and turns back to his own table.

He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find one of the men looking at him. “But yes, there is an ambassador from the Empire here, has been for a little over a week.”

“That’s right,” says his friend, nodding in agreement. “Why he’s here isn’t known though, but the popular rumor is that they want us to join their fight with Madoc.”

His friend laughs at that, “Like that would ever happen.”

“Thank you,” replies James.

The man nods his head and then resumes his conversation with his friend, this time keeping their voices slightly softer to avoid being overheard again.

Leaning close to Illan, he asks, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes I did,” he says. “If you figure the time it took the herald to reach The Ranch and how long it took us to get here, then we could assume he was dispatched shortly after the Ambassador’s arrival.”

“What could that mean?” asks James.

“Not sure,” he replies, “but you’ll find out soon enough tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” states James. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dave give out with a big yawn.

“Tired?” he asks his friend.

Nodding, Dave says, “I think I’ll head up and go to sleep.”

Handing him the key, he says, “Alright, I probably won’t be up for a couple of hours.”

“Don’t worry about me,” replies Dave. “I’ll be dead to the world in a short while.”

As Dave leaves, Jiron watches him go with some delight. “I thought I’d take Fifer and we would tour the bars tonight and see what we could find out.”

“Not a bad idea,” agrees James. “See if you can discover any more rumors regarding the Ambassador’s visit.”

“Will do,” states Jiron. Getting up, he glances to Fifer and says, “Ready to go?”

“Always,” he says.

They move away from the table and head out the door.

Illan, Miko and James remain at the table late into the evening enjoying the music. Once he starts yawing, James gets up and heads to his room where he hears Dave’s snores coming from within before he even opens the door.

Getting undressed in the dark, he slips into the other bed and quickly falls asleep.

Jiron and Fifer leave the Silver Bells and head to the outer section of the city. There they’ll find the more disreputable establishments where rumors flow more readily. Never staying very long in any one place, they have a few drinks while listening to the conversations around them. Once in awhile asking a few discreet, innocent questions before moving to the next.

By the fifth such dive, they have accumulated rumors ranging from an attempt to kidnap/assassinate the king to an arranged marriage between one of the king’s daughters and a noble within the Empire. All of which seems rather implausible. The most improbable story yet is how the Empire is here to open a slave market within Cardri where they can sell the slaves taken in their war with Madoc. How that one started, no one seems to know and few believe. One man said, ‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before that ever happens’.

They wander outside the outer walls and plan to hit some of the seediest places yet. The first one they enter must have been standing a very long time. The walls are slightly slanted and most of the windows are boarded up. The odor and density of the smoke within makes it hard to breathe.

Moving to the bar, they order a couple drinks and set about drinking as they take in the clientele. Most are what Jiron would call sewer rats, little more than drunkards and layabouts. The fact that they’re even in a place like this tells him all he needs to know.

One man sitting at a table near them, who only has one hand, catches Jiron glancing in his direction. That is all the excuse he needs. Getting up from his chair, he moves toward him and says, “I don’t like the way you’re staring at me!”

The other patrons perk up at that. “No trouble tonight, Lonn,” says the barkeep from where he stands behind the bar.

“I’m not looking for trouble, mister,” Jiron says to him. “I apologize if I’ve bothered you in any way. I assure you it was not my intention.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re thinking about ol’ Lonn?” the man asks, anger beginning to build in voice. “Poor ol’ Lonn. One handed he is and good for nothin’!”

Jiron can smell the liquor on his breath. He’d like nothing better than to put Lonn on the floor, but he doesn’t want to do anything that could come back to James. “I’m not thinking anything like that,” he says, trying to diffuse the situation. “Here,” he says as he produces a coin out of his pouch, “let me buy you a drink.”

“I ain’t no drunk!” he says, now enraged. Using his one good hand, he takes a swing at Jiron’s jaw.

Easily anticipating what Lonn was going to do, he blocks the attack and follows through with a punch to the jaw. The blow snaps his head backward and Lonn stumbles into a table with three men. He smashes the table, tossing the men’s drinks onto the floor, one which spills across one of the men’s shirt in the process.