Unkarra Gate (1st draft)

Chapter 4.2

Warmth rushed at him, a muggy, smoky warmth that provoked bogrel to remove his soaking cloak upon entering. There was a number of pegs along a wall, among which he found an unused one and hung his among the many other cloaks much like it; leather and undecorated. Along with the warmth came the smells, of which food took his primary attention. The place was lively inside with conversations all about, and a diminutive busker in a corner with a scant few giving any attention.

Leaving the entranceway and entering the main lobby, Bogrel caught the attention of the keeper beind the counter, which also served as the bar. Bogrel approached, and the keeper came over.

"Can I help you, good stranger?" It was a customary welcome, one Bogrel was overused to; the connotation was that he should remain a good stranger.

"I need help," he started plainly. "I need someone who can stitch wounds. I have a wounded girl."

The bushy eyebrows of the man behind the counter rose, half suspiciously. "Is that what brings you? I'm sorry to hear that. That man there," and he gestured, "the one with no hair, he's a barber. Maybe he can give you the help you're looking for."

In the direction indicated, there was a table where four people sat. One of the two men was indeed bald, and Bogrel approached him rather directly. Their conversation died as he came close, and all four stared at him.

"You're a barber?" he asked.

"That I am," said the bald man. He wrinkled the long nose which was prominent on his long, narrow face.

"I need your help," Bogrel continued.

"And who are you?" Interjected the barber. His rather hefty friend was giving him quite the acrimonious stare.

"My name is Bo," he said after a hesitation. "But it's not me, it's my... daughter. We were attacked and she's been hurt."

"Who attacked you?" asked the barber.

"We were on the road, it was some bandits. Look, I have the coin to pay."

The barber's brow rose at that comment. "Oh yeah, stranger? Well I don't know why you're coming here looking for help, but I figure five silver coins ought to make it a worthwhile night for myself."

Bogrel started at the sum. "Two is decent pay for a night's work for anyone."

"She's your daughter, it's your choice, keep your silver or your girl. Or you can give me two and I'll tell you where you'll maybe find the next barber in town." The barber's gruff friend snorted out a laugh and took to his ale.

As Bogrel clenched both his hands and his teeth, a gentle presence beside him helped curb his anger. Sara stood beside him, having run in from the rain, still wearing her oversized cloak. She was muddy, wet, and she grimaced from the smoke in the air.

"Can we all come in yet?" she asked meekly. Her adorable features were difficult to deny acquiescence to their desire.

"Oh look at his little girl, she's so cute. Maynar, help these people out," the woman beside the barber said to him. "Sennigar will be able to put you up. How many little treasures do you have with you?" she asked.

The question stunned Bogrel, vastly moreso than anything Sara had seen have an effect on Bogrel up to this point. "Seven," he answered after a moment.

"There's nine of us," Sara corrected him. "But Ezara's almost dead. Maybe she is already."

This excited the two women, who were overcome with Sara's plea. They forced Maynar to accept a reasonable sum and pushed him from the table, ushering them out the door to action. For Sara, they took her to the counter and introduced her to the keeper, Sennigar. She began arranging accomodations on their behalf, assuring Sennigar that Bogrel would have the coin to cover the charges.

With some further help, the children were inside a semi attached room with beds much like shelves, stacked upon another. In the center was a brick hearth as well, upon which they could warm water, carried in from the common cookery area. Dara took charge of a the complex operation of getting everyone out from their muddied clothes and half-decent for some rest.

Meanwhile Bogrel remained with Ezara, carting her to the barber's place, having firmly refused help from Dara or Ezrik. Thankfully it was not a great distance to the barber's shop. Ezara was still unconscious, and Bogrel took great care carrying her inside the building.

Maynar was already inside, trying to start as much light as he could, and directed Bogrel to the table upon which to place the injured girl. Inside the room were many shelves along one wall, a few trays, buckets of water, and many different tools lying all over. Bogrel had naught to do but stand back as the barber placed several candles about and began to remove the hastily applied woollen cloths which had clotted against the head. He commented as he worked.

"She took a nasty hit to the head, didn't she. Bled out like a stuck pig, didn't she. I'm surprised she's still alive. Look, there's blood matted all over the place. I'll have to get rid of all the hair on this side, this won't do. I'll have to go get my hair tools. Wait here. Ha! She's not going anywhere." He went off to the adjacent room and was back in a moment, getting back to work.

"It does look pretty deep. What was that got her, a knife? Sword? Oh well, stay quiet anyway, it's usually better when I do all the talking anyway. There, all the hair's gone, now I can see better, and yep it's right down to the bone. Looks like she got it right into the skull a little too. Lost the tip of her ear too. But if she lives, she shouldn't be much uglier. Of course, it's difficult to tell right now, all swollen as it is. Don't think she's going to lose the eye.

"Looks like you've seen your share of work, eh mister....? Ok stranger. Yeah, like I said, you must have seen a lot of this sort of thing, to sit there like that while I'm stitching your daughter's head back together. Where'd you say you were from, again? Oh that's right, you didn't.

"Well, good talking with you, but that should about do it. Of course, you should probably leave her here until she wakes up. We can take her to the back room."

Bogrel did as was suggested, finding a very meager closet of a room with a bed and basin, and one small shelf.

"She should be able to stay here for a day or two I suppose," said Maynar. "Might have to ask for a little more than what Kendra was throwing about back at the Black Hare though."

"I'll stay with her," said Bogrel.

"Whoah, a sick little girl is one thing, but I live here, and letting a total stranger stay here with me is another. You're not exactly the type that begs a welcome into one's home, let's be honest. You head back to the Black Hare where I'm sure Sennigar and Kendra have arranged something for the rest of your brats."

Bogrel gave him a stern stare. "Then consider the job unfinished until I take her back from here, and don't expect your pay until then."

Maynar nodded and smiled. "She'll be safe. I'll stake my reputation on it."

Bogrel looked back at Ezara one more time. The bandage about her head obscured a good portion of her face. There was still a good amount of blood all over her; beneath the red she looked deathly pale. "Don't give in," he said quietly to her. He wrapped a wool blanket about her and left her in Maynar's care.