Seeds of Rebellion
Page 25

After a time, the announcer started the show again. A woman imitating bird calls was well received at first, but overstayed her welcome, and was finally booed from the stage. A skilled juggler pretended to be clumsy, stumbling and tripping and flailing his arms, but never dropped a single item. The crowd laughed heartily and gave him warm applause. A man was leading the crowd in a popular sing-along while sawing on his fiddle when Sandra the barmaid served the food.
She set a steaming platter in front of Aram, heaped with fleshy orange strips drenched in a buttery cheese sauce and dusted with seasonings. Jason received a plate holding a lesser portion.
“You emptied the kitchen of scuttlers,” she told Jason. “Expensive items are purchased before they’re eaten.”
“How much?”
“Forty.”
That was a lot! Eight times the cost of his room. Aram was grinning. Jason handed the barmaid a silver pellet. She gave him two bronze drooma in return.
Aram took a bite. He closed his eyes in ecstasy. Opening them, he nodded appreciatively at Jason.
Not particularly hungry after the puckerlies he had relished earlier, Jason tried a strip the size of his index finger. The soft flesh melted in his mouth. It tasted incredible. Jason started devouring the food, moderating his pace once he noticed Aram savoring every mouthful.
When the food was gone, Aram rose from the table, returning to his position at the bar. The other patrons parted to give him space. The chairs around Jason quickly filled up. He stayed put through the remainder of the show.
At the conclusion, the announcer summoned four of the most popular acts to the stage and, by audience reaction, determined a winner. When the three women who were singing when Jason came downstairs won, they reprised their song about Old Ingrim.
After the show ended, many of the patrons shuffled out. Some, mostly older men, kept on conversing and eating. A few had fallen asleep.
Moving to a table near a corner, Jason rested his head on folded arms and napped.
A loud noise awoke him.
Blinking blearily, Jason saw a man prostrate on the floor beside him, an overturned chair nearby. Aram had a boot on his back.
“You know better than to try a stunt like that while I’m on the job,” Aram growled. “Especially if you intend to insult me with such a clumsy lift.”
The man on the ground held up a small drawstring bag.
“And the other one.”
The man produced a second bag. It took Jason a moment to comprehend that they were his. Aram crouched, snatching them from the thief.
“Now get out of here,” Aram demanded.
The culprit scrambled to his feet and staggered out of the inn.
Aram handed Jason the bags. “Is this the wealth you hid elsewhere?”
“Oh, thanks.”
“It’s my job.”
Jason surveyed the room. It was almost empty. A matronly barmaid was wiping down a table. Two red-eyed men sat huddled in conversation. A fat, drooling man lay slumped in a corner, snoring softly.
“I’m done for tonight,” Aram reported. “If you wish to speak briefly, take a walk with me.” Aram led Jason out the front door.
A chill breeze blew in from the ocean. Somewhere in the gray morning a gull cried. There was little activity on the docked ships. Jason guessed it was an hour before dawn.
Aram leaned against a wooden railing crusted with guano. “You have my attention,” he said.
Jason looked up at the huge man. “I want to pay you a lot to bring me to a village called Potsug. I guess it has some ferries.”
Aram folded his muscular arms. “I know the village. It actually straddles the river. It isn’t far. Why do you require an escort?”
“For protection. I’m being pursued by Maldor.”
Aram waved both arms, shaking his head. “Say no more. This conversation should never have happened. In my most reckless days, I never worked directly for or against the emperor.” Aram started walking away.
“Wait, you haven’t even heard the offer.”
Aram kept walking without a backward glance. “No need. You could offer a golden palace stuffed with riches, and I would turn you down, because what use is treasure to a corpse? Thanks for the food. Seek help elsewhere.”
“What’s the hurry?” Jason called. “Do you turn into a dwarf at dawn?”
Aram froze, then slowly turned, a strange expression on his face. “What makes you say that?” His voice held a dangerous quality.
“I was only joking,” Jason said, surprised by the weighty reaction.
Aram narrowed his eyes. “What spawned the joke?”
“You know, like the giants in the woods that shrink during the day? I guess people don’t really know about them. See, you’re super big—”
Aram strode near, towering over Jason, his expression grave. “Who sent you?” The quiet way he spoke promised violence.
Jason retreated a step. “Nobody. I mean, besides Tark.”
Aram seized Jason’s shoulders. “Why are you trying to involve Tark? What have you done to him? Who do you work for?”
“Nothing. Nobody. Settle down. Are you trying to tell me you’re a giant?”
The muscles in Aram’s wide jaw tightened. His glare threatened murder.
“I’ve seen them,” Jason said, trying to diffuse the situation. “You’re big, but they’re way bigger.”
Aram squinted up at the sky, then grabbed Jason by the front of his shirt, like a bully about to demand lunch money. “Come with me.”
“I think I’ll just—”
“Now.” The way he pronounced the word left no room for argument. The sheer girth of his arm was also pretty convincing.
“But I have stuff in my—”
“Not another word.” Aram released his shirt. “You wanted my attention? You have it. Stay beside me. Try anything, and I’ll snap your neck.”
They started off at a brisk pace.
CHAPTER 7
MOIRA
Aram guided Jason up a series of cobblestone streets away from the sea. They encountered few other people. Jason considered trying to run away, but the large man stayed close.
On a narrow street walled with tall townhomes, Aram thumped on a door.
“Where are we?” Jason asked.
“My place.”
“You knock at your own house?”
“My mother keeps it locked.”
Jason heard a lock being disengaged. The door opened to reveal a portly female dwarf with curly gray hair and kind, wrinkled features. She reacted to Jason with undisguised surprise.