The Archer (A Tale Of Heroes & Demons Book 1)

Chapter 33

Weaving Tales

Declan made his way across the road to the lodge. He leaned against the doorway for a few moments, listening to the noises drifting out. He pushed open the door and entered the dimly lit room.

Long wooden tables covered the expanse of the large hall. Smoke hung heavily in the air. On the other side of the room, past the tables, sat a bar. Declan made his way past drunken men slumped unceremoniously in chairs and a couple arguing. When he reached the bar he sat on a stool and called to one of the bartenders and ordered a drink. He didn't want to appear out of place. He waited until his drink was ready to begin asking questions.

"So, how long have you worked here?" He posed his question to the woman who prepared his drink.

"Long enough. Why do you ask?" She rubbed her wrinkles out of her apron. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, with a tattered dress under her apron. The look in her eyes suggested to late nights working and a stressful home life.

"Just trying to make conversation."

The creases lifted from her face and she visibly relaxed. "About thirty years now. It's been a long life."

"Wow. They must really appreciate you around here."

Her face hardened. "As much as they appreciate the manure in the stable."

Declan leaned back a little. Time to switch his approach. "So I guess it isn't so great here then?"

"What made you guess?" She laughed and began wiping down the bar beside him.

"This is a delicate issue for you, I take it?"

"Just leave it alone, okay? It ain't matter how left out I feel about the comings and goings of people. It ain't none of my business." Her shoulders sagged. "Or so I've been told."

"People being secretive? What are they doing?" He sat up a little taller. Now he was getting somewhere.

"Like I said before, I don't know. Nor do I care." She slid his drink across the table. "Drink up now."

Smiling, he grabbed the drink and lifted it up to his lips. He was careful not to take a sip. He did not wish to become intoxicated. It would cloud his judgement and he needed to remain alert to find the information he required. When he lowered his glass he wiped his lips.

"So where you from? You don't look like the regular folk around here." She cocked an eyebrow.

"Not from anywhere, really. I'm a traveller. I just roam around."

"Everybody's from somewhere. Where did you live before you started traveling?"

"I can't remember. I have been travelling for a very long time."

"Don't you have any family that's missing you?"

"No, they all passed away when I was young." It was hard for him to admit. He may not be telling her the whole truth but a little bit was easier than a lie.

"Poor soul. So you've been wandering ever since? What brings you here of all places?" She smiled sadly.

"Just wandering, really. I never know where I'm going until I get there."

"Sounds like a lot more fun than working here. But really," she leaned forward, "everyone has a reason for wandering. What's yours?"

He shook his head. "I really do not have a reason except I do not like staying in one place too long. I want to explore while I have the chance."