After a small discussion, the price was settled, and the liveryman took Isabou to her stable for a well-deserved rest, a manger of good hay, and a welcome drink. Jhary looked into the corner of his dark coin purse, he was in possession of very few riches. The bard would have to work soon to replenish this dwindling wealth, though, in this bustling place, he was none too worried about this. Jhary then retied the string on the small purse and stowed it away in his coat. It was time to explore the comforts of the ‘recommended’ accommodations.
She had been long ago named something else, some would remember, but many who stayed within her walls would not, to them, she had become simply The Four Roses. A grandiose building that stood on the corner of Bridge Street and East Terrace, overlooking the river, housing the most pleasures to be had, in the fair city of the Bridge.
Though the town was ruled by tight marshal law and penalties for dissidence were tough, many of the ideas and morals that had been embraced in more civilized times, had been shed. Prostitution, drug use, and slavery were all lawful in the Bridge.
The trio pushed their way into the smoke-filled lobby, well aware they were being watched, especially Aurianne. Beauty sulked by her knee no more than a shadow. She was not the only hound here, others too had their animals in tow. A great Irish wolfhound sauntered up to sniff at her and her mistress. Aurianne petted the huge dog’s head before it slunk away at the insistent shout of its master, who sat at a bar stool in an animated conversation with a fellow drinker.
Unlike the municipal offices, the patrons here were armed, and no insistence was made that the travelers surrender their weapons. Many carried bows, they were a common weapon here, relatively cheap and easy to craft, and a mainstay for hunting. Some of the more impressive individuals carried firearms or swords, one man even had a rifle complete with bayonet. Though rough machetes or daggers were more commonplace.
“Mary’s, still very ill...” Kario overheard some worried patron comment to his friend. “I’m afraid the recent rain will do her in.”
His companion nodded sympathetically, scarred hands clasping his mug of cider as though it was the most valuable thing in the world. Kario well knew to some men it was, and in these times it was easy to see why. The world was harsh and rough, the slightest stumble could see you fall. With no one to care if you did. There was other talk too, about the recent black rain. The people seemed immersed in a climate of fear, many had been taken ill or died it would seem by the conversations taking place about him.
“Interesting clientele,” Jhary said sarcastically, as he made his way to the check-in desk. A bored young man sat there looking at the three visitors, with a gaze that bordered on hostility. “How much for a room?” Jhary inquired pleasantly.
The man didn't answer directly but looked closely at Jhary and his companions, perhaps trying to assess if they were a risk to the furnishings or not, or maybe how much they could afford to pay?
Jhary did not know the man’s mind, but smiled congenially and waited. The man looked at his ledger book and scribbled something illegible in one of the columns with a sharp-tipped pencil. Behind them, there was an uproar of laughter, and the trio turned about, however, they could not be sure what it was about, perhaps in response to the rather ribald entertainment that was featured on the small stage at the other side of the room?
Jhary returned his attention to the man. He knew everything here would be bought with barter and a keen process of haggling. A sale could not be rushed. It was up to his negotiation skills as to whether they paid an outrageous price or a fair one.
“I’ll be your little leg humping doggie... let me be your dirty…”
The trio once again looked to the stage, a faux female in a graveled falsetto howled to the crowd. Yes, the show was very lewd. Jhary though half interested in his competition turned back to the hotel clerk, and laid some of his gold on the counter. The young man squinted through the hemp smoke at the valuables.
“How long you plan to stay?”
“A few days.”
The clerk held up the gold ring, it held no sentimental value to Jhary, simply one he had acquired along the way as currency. A small ruby sat in its setting. The bard had long ago decided not to think too hard about the sad stories his little bag of treasures may have accumulated.
“This one for tonight, and this one for a security deposit.” The man took into his hand a much heavier piece, a man's signet ring set with a square of dull onyx, hardly a valuable stone. However it was the gold content the clerk was after. “With a similar token for every day you choose to remain here at the Four Roses. All meals are extra, and we have many other fine services, though I can see gentlemen, you seem to be well covered.” The man looked down his aquiline nose at Aurianne. Aurianne shot him a fiery glance and looked away.
“Thank you Sir.” Jhary beamed as he took the keys he was proffered.
“Room thirty six, up the stairs and to the end of the hall. I do not need to tell you the privies are outside to the rear of the building.”
*****
The accommodations were serviceable enough, though well-worn. The trio is just happy to sit quietly for some time surveying their new surroundings. The room was a little cool, but at least in the window panes, the glass remained intact. The large building being constructed predominantly of stone was a boon, ensuring the sound in the hallway and the floor below would not disturb its sleeping patrons. This particular room did not boast the best view, overlooking a bland back alley, and the vague stench of the before mentioned conveniences wafted up to greet them. Aurianne closed the window.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Ugh!” She grimaced in distaste. She was quickly disliking this city and regretted coming here. “I hope Isabou is doing okay?”
“She will be,” Jhary assured. Taking off his boots and massaging his tired feet.
Kario sat quietly on the chaise lounge, he assumed this would be his bed as there was only this and the double. He would leave Aurianne and Jhary to figure that out. He lay back fully dressed and closed his eyes staking claim to the chaise. “I had not realized how tired I was.” Kario half yawned as he tried to get the statement said.
“Me either,” Jhary responded. “I think it’s an early night then. Let’s ponder what we want to do tomorrow after a good rest.”
*****
Beauty crossed the floor to lick Kario's outstretched hand. The swarthy illusionist too was uncomfortable amongst the throng of humanity, and yet he craved acceptance. “It’s probably worse being a woman.”
“Phifft, I can take care of myself.” Aurianne huffed, as she sat on the corner of the unmade bed. “But I don't want to stay here too long. I hope we can get this business concluded swiftly, and be gone.”
Kario nodded, he felt the same.
*****
Though Jhary Brannon’s exquisite musical talents could have easily landed him a spot in the Four Roses lineup, he chose to decline. Instead deciding to play for an intimate little cabaret club just down the street, simply called The Velvet Box. Even before the devastation of the Allied bombings, there had not been much in the way of entertainment in the Bridge. A visiting band perhaps playing in a pub’s beer garden, or a trip to the cinema.
For its real beauty lay in the natural surroundings and the serenity of its wide river. Most came to boat, relax, and fish. In some ways since the strife the entertainments were now more varied, there were many survivors of the city central here, and they demanded a lot more than a few rural pursuits as the town became more established. So in this new climate different pastimes thrived, such as the rather ribald and colorful Four Roses lineup, of acrobatics, song, and sleaze. The more intimate establishments that catered to the Bourgeois and those of the upper class here such as the one Jhary played for. Then there were the pit and cage fights, promising spectacular brutality. Society in the main had equalized into its raw and carnal self. For it was the notion of most men.
It was logical the trio centered their initial search on the pit fight circuit. Surely to Jhary’s mind, this is where Aran would have been sold. They wasted no time in investigating the old school building on Mannum Road that had since been repurposed into a holding compound for the unfortunates who fought in the bloody entertainments there.
It had once again become an age when only the upper echelons of society would have any hope of tutoring their children, and schools had swiftly become redundant along with such things as electricity, refrigeration, and a sense of settled law.
As Jhary could not procure any believable documentation, it was decided the best route would not be to ask after an escaped slave directly. Papers of ownership, even well-crafted forgeries would have been a great help in expediting matters. However they did not have this luxury, and the last thing they needed was to arouse any suspicions in this militarized town.
The old school grounds were well fortified, and the trio soon realized they would have no opportunity to penetrate the defenses here and remain undetected. So all the bard could do was agree to entertain during the intermissions, as much as he hated these spectacles.
Kario accompanied the bard as a helper. Aurianne had decided it was best if she did not accompany the men on this reconnaissance, she was deeply afraid to be confronted by Aran again. Though she would never admit it. Then there was the matter of how she felt personally in this city, where life was cheap and women mostly appeared as property or at best creatures to be displayed on pedestals.
*****
They had been lodged in the Bridge for some three weeks, and still no sign of Aran. Not even a lead. Jhary was demoralized search-wise, though he had to confess he did enjoy the city life as long as he could drown out the brutality. The things that he thought he sometimes glimpsed in doorways behind curtains or down dark alleys. There were other distant memories he had hoped to quell also, but the warm gold on his finger, and the familiar sights sometimes grew too much. He remembered why he had wandered north after all.
Aurianne was restless. The entire excursion seemed futile, and her honor was still to be avenged. It seemed Aran was not here, and the politics of this place sat about her shoulders like a mantle of lead. She longed to be gone. The city had its comforts but she knew she could never thrive here. She would go north very soon, with or without her companions.
Kario was patient. He had no agendas. He could well afford to watch the world wander by. He watched those he could never truly join live their daily lives. Sometimes he longed to be human, and others he longed to be of demon kind. He assisted his companions when he could, and kept his own council. For mostly there were no words for the disembodiment he felt.
The Commissioner had not bothered to check on his guests again. Perhaps he had better things on his mind, it was a sprawling settlement after all.
*****
“So who are the guys in the jackets with the wings and skulls? I don't at all like them.” Aurianne had thought to ask one evening when the trio had settled down in the sanctuary of their room. It was a rare evening Jhary was not out entertaining, and he had swiftly amassed a considerable fortune. Tonight they had even purchased some wood to burn in the fireplace.
“They are the Banned Angels, a terrible amalgamation.” Jhary sighed.
He looked into his ‘coffee’ cup wishing it was real coffee not just some unusual concoction that served as a poor imitation.
Aurianne at once sensed Jhary’s reluctance to speak about them and with a woman's intuition she honed in on the subject.
“Are they like the law here or what? I saw them beating a shop keeper of all things in front of a store today.”
“Yes.”Jhary nodded thoughtfully. “Years ago, after the war, the two biker gangs merged, the Banditos and the Hell’s Angels, and became what we see today. They no longer have their bikes but the attitude remains. I guess the Commissioner saw some wisdom in siding with them and using them as his militia. After all beggars can't be choosers.”
“I don't think they make the place feel at all safe.” Aurianne stated.
Jhary just nodded.