A meal, interrupted

Previously: Esmiralda and her companions have discovered that the shattered ship—found upside-down and in the middle of a forest—was once captained by Harfirgorn the Merciless, a pirate of some repute that had vanished long ago. Following clues in a log book they find in the pirate’s quarters, they hope to discover his final resting place. On the way, they meet up with a lady of the wood, whose husband has succumbed to the vile magic of the pirate's witch. Together, they search for the source of her vile magic. They approach a small village in hopes of news, information or, at least, a hot meal.


"You seem unsettled," I said to Tane, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else in Korin, even if it meant having his ears chewed off by rats.


"It is...nothing," he responded with a quick half bow. "I will be strong."


"Strong? The only strong thing you'll need down below is your appetite," I said. "I, for one, am looking forward to a meal we don't have to catch."


"We can hope."


I glanced at Merrick, who looked as anxious as Tane. I caught up to him at the base of the hill as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. Slightly winded, he leaned on his staff.


"Is there something you should be telling me?"


He gave me a tight, false smile and shook his head. "No need to fear," he said, his words clipped.


There were three structures huddled around the base of the hill. The Inn or blacksmith shop to our left, a rather large home to our right--both square buildings with stout roofs made of straight logs covered with entwined branches. A small flat road of sorts separated them; it curled around a large barn and disappeared into the forest. The sound of an axe biting into wood came from beyond the barn.


"A strange place for a public house of any sort," I muttered, wondering if that was the cause for my companions' nervousness. The only one who seemed oblivious to the tension in the air was Seymuhr, who stood idly by, sniffing his armpit.


"Perhaps there is a larger settlement beyond that bend," Merrick said.


I was not overly familiar with the area and did not know for certain. I shrugged and headed for the door of the larger building. My stomach led me. I was so hungry I didn't know if I had enough coin to fill my belly.


Inside, we found a large open room filled with rectangular tables bordered by sturdy benches. There must have been a large number of people nearby, for the room could comfortably sit several dozen. A staircase to our left led to an upper level. Near that sat an empty counter  with several stools in front of it. A door was on the other side and I could hear someone working behind it, whistling as he did so. There was another door to our right and it looked like a type of good store beyond. This structure was apparently the center of commerce.


"Pick a seat," Seymuhr growled, "and I'll pick mine."


I ignored the implication, but reminded myself not to shake his hand. I chose a table near the far wall and Merrick followed, clapping his hands once. He called out and I heard a muffled response from beyond the counter.


Seymuhr slapped the table as he sat down. It wobbled and dust filtered down from the ceiling under the force of his blow.


"I'm coming!" A short bald man emerged, scowling. "Early AND impatient today, eh...?" He stopped short when he saw our odd company. He had evidently been expecting a crew of regulars, fresh in from the fields or wherever else they toiled. "My apologies, good sirs," he muttered as he hurried toward us. "I meant no offense. Travelers are rare this time of year."


"No offense given," Merrick bellowed, a broad grin on his face. A sheen of sweat on his forehead was the only thing to betray any nervousness he felt. I glanced around, still wondering at the source of his and Tane's anxiety. "My companion here is indeed impatient--and with an empty belly besides. It is he who should be offering apologies."


Seymuhr did not take the hint.


"Alas, he's a bit simple," I put in. "I offer mine in his place. We are indeed quite hungry and the thought of a well-cooked meal has dulled our sense of decorum. What do you have to offer?"


The barkeep's brow wrinkled, as if he puzzled over my words. "We've some piping hot spider stew that will chase that hunger, right enough," he said. "'Tis a creamy mixture with hunks of potatoes and plenty of meat. No need to skimp on that, hereabouts!"


"Indeed not," I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "I was hoping for something a little..."


"Bigger? Oh, a man-sized appetite is it then?" He chuckled and winked at Merrick. "I should've guessed that, so I should. It would be no trouble at all to stoke up the fire and cook up a couple of flank steaks, then. Perhaps with some turnips and mushrooms?"


I nodded. "That sounds wonderful. I am a bit surprised; I didn't see or hear any cattle on the way here."


The barkeep made a funny noise through his loose lips. "Cattle? Why in Allon's Mallet would you think we'd have cattle? There's no point--the spiders would just eat them all. No, no no. I caught some huge, fresh beasties--plucked them first, of course--and sliced only the best part of the carapace. Very juicy."


"Oh. Spider flanks. I see."


"I thought you'd be impressed. Would you like one or two?"


"My good man," I said instead, "would you have anything for a more, er, discerning tongue?"


He stiffened a bit and color rose to his cheeks. "Of course. My manners and my brains must having a tryst in the shade. You are obviously city-folk, and accustomed to more than simple fare. This will cost you a bit more coin and take a little longer--I've not yet started to prepare it yet--but I can offer you a fine plate of Sarf d'broule."


"We are fortunate to have such a creative and thoughtful host. I'm not familiar with the dish, however. How is it prepared?"


He leaned in, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. He even looked to either side, as if unsure if he should offer the details to us. "I start with fine, aged spider legs, smoked for a full fortnight over..."


"Actually, I'm not that hungry after all." I sat back, crestfallen, and let Merrick order four bowls of spider stew.


The tavern keeper turned, but Seymuhr put a hand on his arm. "Bring the rest of that slop, too," he said.


"Mira," Merrick said sympathetically. "It's better than eating them raw, or burned over a fire."


"Meh."


"One man's delica...cy is another...man's vomit," Tane whispered, his expression still grave.


"That's not helping," I said and was about to say more when the door opened and Merrick cursed under his breath.


Three men stood in the shadows of the door frame. They looked surprised to see four strangers sitting in their tavern. Then the first man gave the other two a sly smile, pointed directly at Tane and said:


"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"


They closed the door behind them and headed our way.