Patrol 3: Darkness & Light

Chapter 18

Eddin opened the door to the Grog Hall, gesturing Vania inside. People turned as she paused in the doorway, taking in the room, then walked to the bar. Conversations died. Every eye in the room stared at the silver wolf rampant on her cloak and the golden one echoed on her black uniform. Eddin followed after her, towering over everyone in the room, lantern light catching on the silver Enforcer emblem on his cloak and uniform, making it seem the wolf bared its fangs and flexed its clawed paws, the crossed swords blazing.

Vania sat on a stool, Eddin standing close at her back. All the patrons sitting at the bar slid off their stools and hurried out the door. The people interspersed at tables swiftly followed suit.

The bartender, a one-eyed tydring with an eyepatch and a tentacle in place of his right arm, came over and eyed them both, then focused on Vania. "Ya sure know how to empty a room, missy. Hope yer plannin' on orderin' lots of drinks to make up fer my lost business."

"I need a petite starless strawberry sherry," Vania replied levelly.

"Thought ya might say that," the bartender muttered. He reached around under the bar, pulling out a squat, dark brown flask, his tentacle banging a short drinking glass onto the bar. He poured a dark pink liquid from the bottle, then pushed the glass to Vania. "Drink up."

Vania blinked and looked at the glass. "That's actually a drink?"

"It's what ya asked fer," the bartender said. "Drink up an' get comfy. She'll send fer ya when she's ready fer ya."

Vania made a face and brushed the glass to the side. "She told me to be here at midnight. I'm here. I'm not in the mood for games."

"It's mighty rude to not drink the brew ya asked fer," the bartender glowered at her. "'Specially since I didn't even charge ya."

"S'all right, Hanton," a quiet voice said, emerging from a door behind the bar. The cloaked figure walked around the bar, gesturing for the enforcers to follow. "She doesn't have time to drink—the mistress is ready for her. I'm sure her companion will drink it for her; he and I have much to discuss, and it's a conversation best held over drinks."

The torchlight caught on the blood red crossed axes and arrows lining the hood's edge and Vania scowled. "He has nothing to do with you, Quinsenniel. I'm here to see Nanda. That is all."

Quinsenniel shrugged without turning as he led them across the room and down a corridor. "If he speaks with me or not is his choice—you'll be busy. And what is he supposed to do while you're in your meeting? Just sit at the bar and twiddle his thumbs? No, if he is here he should buy a drink. And if he's drinking anyway, he might as well speak to me; drinking with someone is better than drinking alone." He stopped outside a door and knocked twice quickly, then three times slowly. The door opened with a faint creak. As Quinsenniel waved Vania inside, he finished, "At least, if he speaks with me, I promise the conversation will be interesting." He turned his hooded head to Eddin and gestured him back down the corridor to the bar.

"I don't drink," Eddin replied quietly as Vania stepped through the doorway.

"Oh, really? Well, you're at a bar—you need to drink something!"

The rest of the conversation abruptly cut off as the door swung shut.

"Cousin," a voice greeted. "So good of you to finally come. Please, come in. You'll excuse me if I don't stand to greet you. My back is giving me trouble today, as I'm sure you can relate."

Vania glared at the winged tydring woman lounging on the couch. "Nanda. Cut the crap—we're not cousins. I'm here to get some answers. That is all."

The woman smiled. "Yes, of course. Answers." She pulled out a bundle of parchments from the bag at her side. "Here are some of them."