Fiction: No Chance Meeting - Part I

Fiction by J. D. Conrad - 2015

At least the rain had stopped. After three soggy days in the saddle Aleeto kept thinking things like “I'm too old for this!” and “I should be back at the guild hall next to a warm fire reading reports, not out here riding through this sodden mess.”  He could have let a junior member of the guild take care of this task, but he hadn't visited Three Corners and seen his cousin Delmar for almost two years. Now here he was with saddle sores and soaked clothes.

So when he saw the rather seedy looking Inn ahead, he heaved a sigh of relief. He was almost glad to ride through the gate into the muddy courtyard and stiffly drop from his horse. He turned and looked at the creature with a gimlet eye. He much preferred traveling by boat. But for this mission it had to by horse. Neither he nor this four legged torturer were very happy about that.

He was distracted from the sour regard of his mount by the squelching sound of someone walking through the thick mud. A large gangly young fellow with the slack face of an imbecile was working his way toward him from the stable. Once within arm's reach he mumbled, “See to yer horse m'lord?” Aleeto gave him a broad smile and loudly proclaimed, “Certainly my good man.” His accent marked him as member of one of the Republic's “Old Families.” His hand fished out a pale gold Tarani coin, and dropped it into the gaping moron's hand. “Take good care of him and there will be another of those for you in the morning.” Then he turned to regard the Inn.

He grimaced as his back popped from the motion. So he placed his hands on his hips and arched his back, making a long groan of mixed pain and pleasure as he stretched. His raised eyes fell on the afternoon sky. As is common after a hard rain the sunset was turning out to be especially beautiful. Full of yellows and oranges, yet somehow the light almost appeared to have a green tint to it. And there arching over the clouds was the so called Bridge of Heaven, its bands of silver shaded a faint yellow in the glorious firmament.

As an educated man Aleeto of course knew the bridge was really a set of rings that circled around the whole world. Why just last month he'd read a monograph by a diviner who had used a new spell to closely inspect the rings, and found that the theory they were some form of cloud was not at all correct. In fact they were made up of countless jagged chunks of rock and ice, so it was not any sort of bridge. More like ever so many tiny moons.

Dropping his eyes from the lovely sky to the door of the Inn, he noted the green paint was peeling. Scanning the entire courtyard he noticed a general need for repairs. Peeling paint not only on the door, but on the Inn and stable walls. A pair of missing boards in the compound's fence. And there a pair of rusted chains where a sign had once hung. He gave the chains a lopsided grin; there were things in this place that were more deserving of being hung than any sign.

He sighed again as he squelched through the gelatinous mud toward to the door. He paused, hand on the latch to try and scrape some of the mud from his shoes, but after a moment just gave up and pushed into the building. The first thing he noticed, even in the dim lantern light, was that he was not the first person to track mud inside. From the looks of it, he was not even in the first dozen.

He raised his eyes from the mud encrusted rushes on the floor and saw a slovenly rotund man giving him a wide grin from behind the bar. As Aleeto pushed the door closed behind himself the man opened his jowly jaws and greeted him, “Welcome to the Woodcutter's Rest good sir. How fare you?”

Aleeto pulled his body into the cocky posture so many of the upper crust of the Republic used, then strutted forward as if preparing to preen a set of tail feathers. “I am doing atrociously my good fellow! Have you ever seen such rain this time of year? And me forced to be out in it. I've not a dry patch from crown to toe.” To demonstrate, he swung off his fur trimmed cloak, scattering droplets across the filthy floor, draped it over his arm and used his bejeweled free had to give his tiny goatee a squeeze. It actually made a trickle of water fall from his chin to the slightly rounded midsection below. He looked down with a dismayed expression at the expensive fabric of his tunic, stuck to him with water and spattered here and there with the ubiquitous mud.

The barman gave a gravelly chuckle and said, “I see what you mean sir. Well, you sit right down and I'll have a proper treat for you faster than a Churchman's blessing.”

“Now that sounds quite lovely my good fellow.” Aleeto turned, sweeping the whole room with his gaze and saw there was another guest. A sturdy looking young fellow still wearing armor, sword and dagger. The coif of his mail was pushed back revealing shaggy brown hair and a slightly scruffy beard. He was slumped over, obviously asleep, with his face only inches from the clay mug between his hands. Even so, the sun and horizon symbol used by the Knights of the Long Road was clearly visible on his surcoat.

Aleeto was so annoyed that he mentally grumbled to himself, “A Paladin, well away from his usual haunts and now in need of a rescue. There goes my careful plan.”

Showing no reaction outwardly he strutted over to one of the other tables and seated himself in a grand manner. He tossed his cloak over an empty chair, leaned back and put his muddy boots in the seat of another. “Well then barman, bring me your best.” He leaned to the side to fish out a dull silver colored coin with a square hole in its center and dropped it by the candle stick in the middle of the rickety table.

While he appeared simply a wet and weary traveler, Aleeto was busy thinking. Under half closed eyelids he was noting the location of every door, window and piece of furniture in the room. The only sign of inner turmoil was that his left thumb was nervously stroking the bronze ring on that same hand's index finger.

Keeping his promise the fat barman was very busy concocting some beverage. Hot liquid from a tiny kettle was poured into a heavy clay mug and then quickly stirred. Using thick callused fingers he placed the mug on a small pewter tray. The partition at the end of the bar made a loud thwap as he swung it open and the man began to ponderously make his way toward Aleeto.

To be continued...