The Ale Run, part 1

In which we start off on a new adventure and begin to connect the dots in the World of Korin.

We found Seymuhr that evening in a tavern, nursing some spiderfat soup. A flagon of ale sat nearly empty to his left. People were grousing in small groups, looking up occasionally with spite in their eyes, but that was not uncommon in the city of Veral Ski in particular, nor the World of Korin in general. Times were difficult for the working folk, although across the land in countries large and dukedoms small, the ruling elite declared an unprecedented time of prosperity.

Seymurh pulled a dripping, hairy spider leg from his bowl, sucked the broth from it and gobbled it up, flashing me a grin as his uneven teeth broke through the soggy appendage. He gestured toward the empty seats nearby and motioned us over. I led the way, cautiously checking the other patrons for signs of mischief. Despite my earlier reassurances, I was still nervous entering a tavern -- or any public place, for that matter, with Broo Fang Tane in tow. The man attracted ne'er-do-wells, bullies and pranksters the way an open flower attracted bumblebees.

I signaled to the girl near the bar to bring some more ale. She snorted.

"You'll have to wait on that," she said, giving Seymuhr a baleful glare. "We had to make more."

"Ah," I said to her, then turned my attention to Seymuhr. "Been here a while, have you?"

"I am not to blame for their lack of supplies," he said. "I wanted some Dervinian Dark, but they had none. Said nobody did. Their House Ale has all the flavor of old hay and goes down about as well."

I glanced again around the tavern, noting the empty steins and glasses on the remaining tables, the angry glances and a large, unconscious man crumpled in a heap by a nearby table. "It doesn't appear you had any problem with that," I said, and indicated the prone man with a slight tilt of my head. "Your work?"

Seymurh shrugged. "You'd've done the same."

I doubted that, but didn't say so. Instead I hailed the taverness. "Do you have anything else to drink?"

She shook her head. "Not now. I'll have some spiderberry wine ready, soon enough."

"Spiderberry? What's that like?"

She swung her legs off the stool and walked over. Seymuhr watched her hips sway but if Tane paid them any attention, I could not tell. "Old Frolaff is making it up now. Won't be much berry in it. It'd be mostly ground spider. Very fresh!"

"I have no doubt." Spiders, the so-called Chicken of the Web, were Korin's most plentiful food supply. They were everywhere. With the exception of some of the most exotic, southern forms, they did nothing for my appetite. "When do you expect more Dervian Dark?"

She shrugged. "Can't say I do. There have been problems with the trade routs down to Dervan. I hear there had been some upheaval down there, but don't know the particulars." She poked at something in her teeth, turned her head and spat. "The 'particulars' tend to come in with the Dark." She leaned in. "That is to say, they bring news with the beer, you see."

That was interesting. "You say it's common throughout the city?"

"No. It's uncommon throughout the city. Nobody can get the stuff. Or any news from down there, neither."

"Aye. That's what I meant." I looked at Seymuhr, then at Tane, who sat hidden in his hooded cloak. I, too, had heard word of some unrest in the Village of Dervan, which was in the southwestern portion of Korin, near the mountains. That had been before Merrick and his band had abducted me and eventually caused me to join the queen's Ministry of Human Preservation. Perhaps this was a sign, after all. My first assignment as an official agent of the queen. While there, I could document what had happened in the city and, perhaps, earn a few extra coin for that story.

I gave the taverness a sly smile.

"We'll look into it," I said.

A new start

In which characters and author alike seek direction after a long rest.

I followed Broo Fang Tane out of the tavern, scanning the street for any sign of alerted Shieldsmen. If anyone had noticed the fight inside the tavern--or the people who had fled in panic--they made no sign. The street outside was sparsely crowded with the sort of townspeople one would expect in a wealthier area of Veral Ski; there were well-dressed merchants conversing in front of their shops, pretty, clean women weaving their way down the street on their way to or from some errand and very few children to be seen. Times were tense in Korin and fights of all types were common everywhere; apparently that extended to the wealthy district in its mightiest, most prosperous city. too.

Relived, but still somewhat vexed, I tried to find Tane. This time, he had left no bloody footprints to follow and, for once, I didn't hear the sounds of anyone mocking him. I soon spotted his lithe figure walking down Kings Way toward the lower portion of the city and, beyond that I suspected, toward the gate and the road beyond. I hurried after him.

Broo Fang Tane looked up when I fell into place beside him and flashed him a quick smile. His eyes were sad, his mouth curled downward. He didn't slow.

"Where are you off to?" I asked. "Our lodgings are back the other way."

"I have caused...enough death...here," he said in his usual lilting speech. "I mean to re....turn to the road. Perhaps I shall return to the...Temple of the Optimists, where I can seek...counsel."

I tentatively put my hand on his shoulder, trying to suppress a wince. It was meant as a friendly gesture but, if misintrepted, I had just entered the last seconds of my life. He stiffened, but showed no sign of aggression or rage.

"See, then? You don't need counsel. You are not to blame for that man's death," I paused, thinking. He might have been killed. "His condition is not your fault. He started it." Even as I said it, I flet heat rise to my cheeks. I sounded like a sulky child. Laws in Veral Ski--as elsewhere in Korin--were fickle things. Whether Tane had done wrong by brutally subduing the man who had mocked him would be open to interpretation, speculation and, most likely, a few healthy wagers.

"E....ven so. I have lost my pur....pose. I no longer know my way."

I nearly stopped, blinking. That could have been the first time he finished a sentence without pausing halfway through it and, while I felt like pointing that out, I didn't see the need for it.

"Happens to everyone, I suspect," I said instead, with a shrug of my shoulders. "Rich, poor, male, female, merchant or otherwise. If we didn't get lost every now and then, we might never find new things."

I smiled at that, for it sounded wise. I repeated it in my head so I wouldn't forget it and could write it down later. Tane greeted that wisdom with silence.

"I think it's time for you and I--and Seymurh, too, I suppose--to find new things. I, too, feel a bit restless and lost. I think we should take the queen up on her offer." Phaedra had welcomed us, in a sense, to Veral Ski and offered employment in her Ministry of Human Preservation, following the death of one of her reliable agents. "Maybe we can do some good along the way."

He stopped then and looked up at me, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "And spread some...cheer?"

I glanced down the street, where an argument had broken out and folks had stopped to watch.

"Anything is possible, I suppose." I suspected that would be the hardest of our tasks.

Brief and brutal

Tane knocked away the man's spit-slickened hand, then crouched, spun and buried an elbow into his midsection in one swift motion. The man staggered, huffing, and tried to focus. His hands curled into loose fists and he took an unsteady step forward, a snarl forming on his bearded face, but Tane had already moved aside, kicked his leg from under him with a short jab to the back of his knee, then grabbed his hair and pulled him to the floor. Another kick--this one to the man's jaw--finished him.

He whirled to face any new attackers but this time there were none. I stood in front of him, hands raised in supplication.

"No one else needs to be hurt," I said. "These good people are smart enough to know when not to pester a person, right?" I asked and looked around the room, nodding, to solicit a response.

"Oh aye," several people said.

"I'm not much of a joker, anyway," one man said, backing away.

"I could use a bit of optimism now and then!" A woman chimed in.

"Good, good," I said as Tane sat back down. "See?" I told him. "You are getting better. Only one man on the floor and he...well, he may recover. In time. Under the care of a skilled healer. And perhaps a strong prayer circle."

Tane looked unconvinced. He prodded the bleeding man with a toe, then walked out of the tavern, his shoulders slumped.

Author's note:

Thanks for reading! In his creative writing Masterclass, Neil Gaiman stressed the importance of writing frequently, every day if possible. "You have to get the bad stories out," he said. That's what this blog is, in part. Admittedly, I don't always put a lot of thought into these entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes and make fun of the genre; (b) work on dialogue and scene; (c) develop the world of Korin, where my real fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. I always like to know what works and what doesn't.