The tavern’s main room was on the second floor of a grand old building that sported an impressively carved stone façade that had been badly weathered by the elements. It was a large and airy room that offered an unobstructed view of the river across the promenade. A large hearth lay cold in the middle of the room and in its heyday, the Riverfront’s grandeur could rival any tavern in Ildurin’s.
In the past, it had been a place where important deals were closed in hushed conversations that were punctuated by uproarious celebrations. Today, the atmosphere was oppressive. Rhania ignored the dozens of angry eyes glowering at her as she sat at the table on the only chair.
“You have to order something if you want to sit down,” a slender man growled from behind an ornately carved stone bar that seemed to grow naturally from the stone paved floor.
Rhania turned her gaze from the angry looking men who were standing around here and looked at the empty shelves that had been carved into the stone wall behind the bar. Slowly, she removed a gold coin from the pouch at her belt and placed it on the table.
“I’ll have a drink,” she said. The avarice with which the men looked at it was not lost on her. She could sense that they did not intend to harm her when they had surrounded on her the street and so she had allowed them to lead her here.
“A generous customer,” the bartender remarked dryly. “That will buy you our finest drink.”
Rhania raised an eyebrow. “You must have fine vintages indeed here. That would buy at least half a mid-shelf bottle at the Golden Chalice back in Ildurin.”
“Well, our selection here is a little more eclectic out here,” the man replied without humour.
He carried a metal tankard by hand and set it in front of her. Rhania glanced inside and saw that it was filled with water. Her eyes never left the bartender’s as she took a long swig. “Just what I needed.”
“Enough of this farce,” a bearded man growled as he placed his hands on the table and leaned in close. “I take it you are here to negotiate with the elves?”
Rhania calmly finished her drink before setting the empty tankard back on the table before turning her gaze to the bearded man. “I am.”
“What are his demands?” someone else asked. His face was sunken, and it was clear he was uncomfortable with the whole situation from the way he shifted his weight nervously.
“Land,” she replied simply. “He wants the elves to turn over more of their forests.”
“It looks like your guess was on the money, Lou,” the bearded man grunted as the others in the room exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“I take it his demands are not to your liking?” Rhania observed.
The bearded man glared at her. “Despite what you think, we are not complete ingrates. We trespassed on their lands knowing there could be consequences.”
“I must say, that is a rather measured response,” Rhania remarked, scarcely able to conceal her surprise.
“We live on these lands, ma’am,” Lou, the man with the sunken face said. “We know full well we are the ones responsible for the current state they’re in.”
“Yes, we’re not blind,” someone else chimed in.
“Torance was a good friend,” the bearded man sighed. “If the cost of all the trees we cut down was one life, then I’d say the elves have shown remarkable restraint.”
“It’s nothing compared to the punishment Sir Duglin would have imposed if any of us were caught trespassing in his lands, never mind stealing,” Lou added with a shudder.
“Then why the warm welcome?” Rhania asked.
A fire was lit behind the bearded man’s eyes as he turned to Rhania. “One of our own has died, Lady Arbiter. Sir Duglin doesn’t give a shit about him. What we are concerned about is our lord using his tragic death as an excuse to set off a war with the elves.”
“These are their lands,” another man chimed in worriedly. “And we have nothing that can counter their magic.”
“Our lives are hard enough without having to worry about our home becoming a battlefield,” Lou added.
Rhania raised her eyebrows in surprise. “But these new lands could grant your people a reprieve.”
“We are up to our eyeballs in debt due to ‘deferred taxes’. We’d be lucky if we saw a copper penny if the elves turned them over.” the bearded man scoffed.
“We’ve heard about the strange things happening in the region ever since the black clouds appeared over the mountains,” someone else chimed in. “However, nothing strange ever happened to us.”
“Besides the fallow land?” Rhania pointed out.
“That happened long before the clouds appeared,” the bearded man said. “We believe the elves and their magic are shielding us from whatever foul things are happening up in the mountains.”
“So what would you have me do?” Rhania asked.
“Talk our lord down from his demands, threaten him if you have to,” the bearded man said.
“Our lives are difficult, but we are making things work,” Lou added. “We don’t need war on top of all our troubles.”
“Besides,” the bartender chimed in. “We’ve heard that Lord Marius is itching for an excuse to march his army over. From what we hear, he’s likely aiming to swallow our town up.”
“And as bad as Sir Duglin in, old Marius is a good sight worse,” Lou sighed.
Rhania looked across the river at the forest in the distance and felt her pulse quicken. The lands of her mother’s people. Soon, very soon, she would be among them again. What wonders awaited her within? Would they welcome her as one of their own? Of course they would. Her mother had been a High Priestess. Why wouldn’t they? With great effort, she put her personal ambitions aside and focused on the people in front of her.
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“I’ll keep your concerns in mind,” she said. “And for what it’s worth, I agree, your lord’s terms are completely unreasonable.”
“Of course, you understand we don’t represent the whole town,” the bearded man said. “There will be those who will be disappointed if Sir Duglin doesn’t get his way.”
“Oh I’m sure there will be,” Rhania agreed. She paused before adding. “And I feel you should know that I don’t think your friend was killed by elves.”
The bearded man blinked. “Oh?”
“He was shot twice,” Rhania said. “And whoever did it left the body to float down the river with two arrows still in it. An elven hunter would have finished the deed with one arrow and retrieved it. They certainly also wouldn’t have left the body to rot in the river.”
“If it wasn’t the elves, then who?” the bearded man asked.
“That is what I intend to find out,” Rhania said. She watched the Windrunner pull away from the wharf downstream and waited for it to pick up speed before taking a deep breath. “By the way, my vessel came under attack on my journey in. I don’t suppose any of you might know anything about that?”
“Are you sure?” The bearded man asked. His eyes were so wide that they looked like they were about to fall out of their sockets.
“Yes, I know when I’ve come under attack,” Rhania said dryly. “They fought with discipline and were well equipped. Their ambush was also well planned.”
“Then they weren’t Sir Duglin’s men,” the bearded man said.
“Nor were they Lord Marius’, I’d wager,” Lou added. “There isn’t much fighting round here, and the lord’s guards are little more than ruffians recruited off the street.”
Rhania frowned as she recalled how they didn’t break ranks nor flinch when one of their own was cut down. “Have any war bands come through?”
The men surrounding her looked at one another and shook their heads slowly. At length, the bearded man turned back to her and gestured around at the empty, dusty room. “People are clamouring to leave this place. Why would an army march up here?”
Rhania glanced across the river and suppressed a sigh. She would have to see to this issue first. “I take it you don’t see many visitors to this town?”
“What makes you say that?” the bartender asked dryly.
“The next closest town is a hundred miles away,” Rhania said. “The band who ambushed me might have set up here. Someone must have noticed if a group of newcomers arrived in town over say the past month.”
Again, heads shook around the room. Then, Lou perked up. “Old Nestor said he saw lights on in Bergan’s Crook the other night.”
“That’s right,” the bearded man said turning pale. “We thought he’d just had a little too much moonshine as he usually does.”
“Where is Bergan’s Crook?” Rhania asked sharply.
“It’s part of the town’s northern quarter,” Lou replied.
“It was abandoned years ago,” the bearded man added.
Rhania frowned. “Would it be possible to move two dozen men through the town without anyone noticing?”
“If they moved through the wastelands, sure,” the bearded man replied. “Most everyone who is still here lives by the river.”
Rhania nodded thoughtfully. “Will one of you be so kind as to show me to Bergan’s Crook?”
Silence fell over the room and Rhania looked at each man in turn. None would meet her gaze. At length, Lou smiled sheepishly. “If you follow the main avenue north, it will be on your left at the edge of town. You can’t miss it.”
“Songs will be sung of your bravery,” she said dryly. “Now, will there be anything else, gentlemen?”
“You’ll keep this, ah, friendly meeting with us to yourself, won’t you?” the bartender asked with a sheepish grin.
Rhania sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, and try not to get hurt,” the bearded man said. “There will be a grilling for the lot of us if you do.”
Rhania gave the man a blank look. “Your concern for me is touching.”
As Rhania emerged from the tavern and stepped out onto the promenade, she spotted Hobard looking at her from across the road. The old man had disappeared as soon as Rhania had been surrounded. A look of relief came over his face when he saw her, and he nodded in her direction before walking away briskly.
Rhania stared after the elderly man for a moment and wondered if he was in cahoots with the bearded man and his band. She then considered asking for Duglin’s help in investigating Bergan’s Crook. It only took a moment for her to decide against it. He was the only one here who knew of her arrival, and she couldn’t rule his involvement in the ambush out.
She walked down the promenade and turned onto the main avenue that bisected the town into east and west halves. Tired old buildings loomed over her, and she could feel eyes on her from the shadows inside. Such looks were common even in Ildurin, where elves were relatively common. She knew that the looks and the architecture should feel familiar to her, having spent all ninety years of her life amongst humans. However, she hadn’t felt like an oddity until she went to the circus and saw people gawking at the rare creatures brought in from all corners of the world.
Rhania slowed her pace as she entered what she assumed was the town’s Northern Quarter. It consisted of a small cluster of dilapidated buildings and it looked like no one had lived here for years. What Rhania found curious was that many of the buildings were made from wood, but they hadn’t been scavenged by the town’s people for fuel. Carefully, she picked her way along the rubble strewn road and arrived at the burnt out remains of what had once been a massive sawmill standing in the heart of the district. The fire must have been a huge one. Scorch marks were visible on the stone paved road and several of the nearby buildings had burned down with it.
Her hair stood on end as she sensed movement in one of the abandoned buildings. In the blink of an eye, she had her bow ready with an arrow nocked.
“Show yourselves!” she ordered.
Silence.
Rhania decided to bluff. “I can put an arrow through your heart from here. Come out!”
She whirled around when she heard a panicked squeal come from the buildings behind and had to stop herself from losing a shot as a pair of children emerged from the shadows. Their clothes were little more than rags, and both were barefoot.
“You’re an outsider, eh?” the boy, who was the older of the pair remarked without fear. The girl, meanwhile, looked scared out of her wits and attempted to hide behind the boy’s slender frame. “I suppose you’re here looking for the other outsiders.”
“You’ve seen them?” Rhania asked.
The boy cleared his throat as he strode up to her confidently. Rhania let her bowstring go slack but kept herself ready for anything. “As you can see, miss, we don’t have much, so we can’t afford to give anything away for free…”
Without taking her eyes off the pair, Rhania slipped a hand into her pouch and held up a gold coin. The pair’s eyes locked onto it at once. “What can you tell me?”
“They left two days ago. The lot of them,” the boy said. His voice was a million miles away as he stared at the coin as though bewitched.
“And what are the two of you doing here?” she asked.
“We came to see if they left anything we could use behind,” he replied. “They didn’t. It was as if they were never here.”
Rhania frowned. “And no one noticed them but you?”
The boy bobbed his head. “No one comes here but us.”
“Why?”
“Old Bergan Drinthers owned that mill over there,” the boy said. “They came for it, tried to chop it up for firewood a few years back but he wouldn’t let them. Thought it was a matter of time before Sir Duglin opened up new lands and then the mill his great grandfather built would be needed again. Spread oil all around the place and told them he’d sooner burn it down than let them carve it apart. Things got out of hand, and he did just that. He died in the fire. Terrible thing.”
“Everyone felt real bad about what they did after,” the girl chimed in. “No one’s set foot here since.”
Rhania bit her lip. So this was a dead end. She’d have to carry on into elven lands leaving this loose end behind. Or did she? She shook her head and tried to organize her thoughts. She yearned to be in the lands of her mother’s people with every fibre of her being and she wondered if it was clouding her judgement.
Rhania suddenly felt a presence next to her and jumped when she saw that the girl was now standing next to her.
“I said where do you plan to stay the night, big sister?” she asked.
Rhania blinked and sighed. “I suppose here is as good a place as any.”
All the better if the locals stay away, she thought to herself.
The girl’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I’m an excellent cook. I’ll be happy to help you prepare if you have any food and in exchange, perhaps my brother and I…”
Rhania looked at their hopeful eyes and she heard her Captain’s voice echo in her head. “Compassion, we must have compassion when discharging our duties.”
“Yes, alright,” she sighed.