Stranger Passing: The Sword and the Flame Novella

Chapter 1

He spotted what appeared to be a tavern or inn ahead of him before a crossroads. The chances the owner remained awake were slim, but no man turned away silver for a night's lodging. At least, no sane man. With a chuckle, he continued along his path, allowing his mind to focus on what it wished to. There was nothing for him to be worried about in this small town, as everyone that could pose a threat were either in bed with their loved ones or passed out from drink. Such was the life in the solitary towns in the Wilderness.

He smiled when he drew close enough to make out the sign above the door. The one constant in life, besides death, was the layout of cities and towns. The business areas were easier to spy than the living ones due to their depravity and proximity to the gates. So much the better for him and others of his profession. Without such places, one would need to be part Elf or have a bad time of it.

The walk down the narrow street proved to be an adventure in sidestepping rain puddles more than anything else. Reinhart chose not to bother avoiding them. He was already soaked through and it'd take most of the night to dry out his belongings, assuming he'd find a place with a fire at such a late hour. If it were up to him, the rainy season of the southern Wilderness could go to the Abyss along with most of the people living there. Of all the places on the world of Pyrain, he doubted there was anyplace comparable to the Wilderness so far as the dregs and rapscallions.

Striding up to the door, he refocused his thoughts before grasping the doorknob and entering. Much as he expected, the common room was dark with the exception of a low fire in the hearth behind the bar. As wet as the outside was, the inside wasn't much better, and thoughts of a dry bed and fire to dry his belongings faded. Water poured in through several openings in the roof and where it didn't, the water came down in a constant trickle. In many ways, he would've been better served to find a comfortable tree to stay under for the night. At least, it would cost him less silver.

As far as common rooms went, calling it such was an insult to the name. The two tables looked as though they were thrown together shortly before he entered. Off to his right, the bar added to the depressing feeling of the room. Constructed by setting a flat plank of wood across a pair of chopping blocks, he was surprised it could hold the weight of the man leaning on it.

The man watched him with passionless eyes that were better served to sizing up an opponent than greeting a customer. "What can I do fer ya, stranger?" His voice had a grating quality to it caused by drinking too many Dwarf spirits. His bald head shone in the firelight behind him and his greasy moustache looked as if it held the lice and fleas his head was incapable of anymore.

Reinhart returned the man's expression without flinching. He'd sooner go to the Abyss by the hand of a child than allow himself to be thought of as a mark. "I'd like a room... and what passes for a meal around here."

A cough came from the corner to Reinhart's left where an old man sat, bent over a bowl of cold stew. He could feel the man's eyes watching him as he and the innkeeper discussed business. Reinhart assumed the old man was the innkeeper's father, as the two looked too much alike for there to be any other conclusion to be drawn. Turning his eyes to the old man, he was rewarded by seeing the old man squirm under his gaze. Though half the innkeeper's size, Reinhart had the impression the old man was good with a knife. He made certain to remember the face in the off chance there were any disturbances while he rested. Assuming, of course, he remained there. The tree in his mind's eye was beginning to look more appealing to him by the second.

In an effort to get Reinhart's attention back on him, the innkeeper turned his head to spit on the floor. "Rooms're all gone. All's I got are the stables. Ya don't mind horses and fleas, do ya?" Both the innkeeper and his father burst into laughter at what they were certain would be the ranger's discomfort. Had he not often slept under conditions that would cause both men to stop breathing, their ploy may have had a chance to work.