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13.1: ANOTHER UNWELCOME COMPANION (part 1)

In which Fang suspects there are a lot of weapons.

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It was a little before noon and Fang and Winkton were only just arriving at their third establishment of the morning. Fang had started the day thoroughly annoyed. He had wanted to begin their search early, but his plans had been thwarted by Winkton's refusal to wake. Fang had banged on the door for a full minute before forcing his way into the room. Winkton had been bundled up on the bed, still snoring. Fang had grimaced in distaste and promptly upended the water jug over Winkton's head. That had woken him. Loudly.

Once out of Beamer's Inn, they began by asking passers-by for any news on two runaways, but after an hour they realised that Barthane was so full of runaways that this approach was not going to work. In the end, they decided to follow up any mentions of 'a girl with red hair and a pale, skinny boy', perhaps also accompanied by 'ugly bat-like thing'. At the first boarding-house they were directed to, they did indeed find all three of these individuals. The girl, however, was too old to be Harriet, the boy too plump to be Rupert, and the bat-like thing turned out to be, after all, a bat. Their second excursion fared no better. This time the boy was too short, the bat-like thing non-existent, and the girl's red hair turned out to be a nest of hissing snakes. Fang had covered Winkton's eyes just in time.

Fang expected nothing more of this third venture, which led them to the entrance of a tavern in an alley behind the market square. The building was seedy-looking even by Barthane standards, its timber frame so worm-eaten that it seemed to be more hole than wood.

Fang determined to get in and out as quickly as possible, not least because the tavern might collapse about their heads at any moment. He pulled his black cowl closely over his face with silken-gloved hands to stop any stray rays of sunlight reaching his skin. Winkton dithered at the tavern entrance, holding a scented handkerchief to his nose. Fang growled and pushed past him.

It was standard daytime Barthane fare. Red-nosed patrons who, in their sodden state, had decided the walk home wasn't worth it sprawled here and there upon the benches, ready to wake in the evening and start the whole process anew.

The barman looked up as they entered, though this was probably due to a sudden crash and an outburst of maniacal laughter from the upper storey. His face was criss-crossed with nasty-looking scars and one of his eyes was made of glass. Fang would have been disconcerted had he not been such a disconcerting figure himself. "Yes?" the barman grunted. "What do you want?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Fang saw Winkton bridling at the man's tone. He cut in before the Lord could react; he was just grateful the man could talk at all. "We're looking for a vampire," he said, getting straight to the point, "whom I probably needn't describe as tall, pale, with long black hair. And a young girl with red hair. They are probably both decidedly scruffy."

"No surprise in this town."

"Indeed. But they also have with them a small, purple, exceedingly ugly bat-like creature which occasionally emit screams of a most ear-piercing variety. Have you seen-or heard-them?"

"Can't say I have," the barman replied.

"Are you certain?" put in Winkton.

The barman fixed him with his glassy stare. "I think I'd remember a purple screaming thing, even here."

"Then we shan't disturb you any further. Goo-" Fang stopped. 'Good day' was not something you wished the people of Barthane unless you were making a joke or wanted a thrashing. Instead, he performed a sweeping turn which included collecting Winkton and propelling him out of the doorway before he said anything ill-advised. They did not quite reach the exit, however, before a voice halted them.