BLOOD

I

Red Sonja reached into her pouch and cursed. It was empty. The innkeeper grimaced and clapped his hands. Two large men materialised from a corner of the room and stood behind him, stern expressions on their faces.

Silence fell, and heads turned to watch the fun. Jevon wasn't known for his tolerance of those that couldn't pay. His enforcers had, over the years, made this painfully clear to many. They had explained the house rules with painful simplicity to a number of transgressors, before ejecting them into the street where, so tradition had it, the number of times the victim bounced was an indicator of the size of the unpaid debt. The fact that Jevon's enforcers were about to eject a woman – and a singularly striking one at that – made this something not to be missed.

Red Sonja smiled at Jevon. "Don't worry – I've got a reserve." She crossed her right leg over her left knee (causing more than one neck to crane in search of a more interesting view) and unlashed her boot. Pulling it off, she up-ended it over the table and shook it. Two small coins fell out.

Sonja gave an apologetic shrug. "I'm afraid they're not as fragrant as you might wish," she said.

If he was in any way amused by this remark, Jevon didn't let it show. He picked up the coins and examined them. "This will cover the food you've had, and the ale you've drunk," he told Sonja, "and the stabling for your horse, since I'm feeling inclined to be generous. But not the room you've asked for."

Sonja didn't argue. "Do you object to me sleeping in the stable?" she asked.

"Stable or street – it's all the same to me," Jevon said. "But you can be on your way in the morning – and no breakfast." He paused to see if Sonja cared to voice any objections. When it was clear that she didn't, he turned on his heel. His enforcers followed him, looking disappointed.

Sonja pulled her boot back on, then leant back in her chair, tankard in hand. She knew what to expect, and looked round the room, trying to guess who it would be. In so doing, she found her gaze sharply held by a woman at a table by the far wall. A woman still wrapped in the folds of a cloak, and with the hood still up; but whose eyes suggested a keen mind that never missed a thing. Red Sonja raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner, but the woman remained inscrutable.

The woman shared a table with two men whose olive skin and raven-black hair suggested that they came from the East. They were armed, Sonja noticed, and gave the impression of being able to look after themselves. One of them began to get to his feet, but the woman put her hand on his arm, and he sat back down without comment. It was clear who was in command.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Sonja blinked. A man had approached her table. Annoyed with herself for being so distracted that she hadn't noticed his arrival, Sonja didn't answer. The man sat down anyway.

"My name's Falin," he told her. "And you are?"

"Sonja. Red Sonja." Her tone was steady; she knew what was going to happen. She had no objection to male company in general. Hers was a solitary life, but that didn't mean she always wanted to be alone. Good ale, interesting conversation, songs - dancing even; these were pleasures she allowed herself, even craved sometimes. But she had set certain boundaries, and all too often some man would try to cross them. Yes, she knew what was going to happen next.

"Down on your luck?" Falin asked her.

"It's not the first time, and I don't suppose it will be the last."

"Luck can change." Falin smiled. "Jevon," he called, "two more ales over here. I'm paying."

"I prefer to buy my own," Sonja told him.

"That doesn't seem to be an option at the moment," Falin observed, clearly under the impression that he'd just said something amusing, "and your tankard's nearly empty."

"I'll have to make it last, then." Sonja took a very small sip of her ale, as if to emphasise her intentions.

"Nonsense, my dear. Allow me."

Sonja sighed inwardly. Up until that point she'd been prepared to give Falin the benefit of the doubt. There was just a possibility that she might have misjudged him. Once he'd called her "My dear," however…

Two more tankards of ale arrived. Falin picked his up and toasted Sonja. She ignored the one set before her.

"Come along, my dear, drink and be merry." Falin took a long swallow, then leant forwards and put his hand on Sonja's knee.

The fight – if it could be called a fight – lasted two heartbeats. When it was over, the table was upside down and Falin was lying on the floor, moaning. Blood was trickling from his broken nose, but his hands were clasped over a more pressing hurt. Sonja stood over him, still holding her original tankard in her hand. She drank from it noisily, before pouring the last drops over the prone form of her would-be beau.

There was laughter and a small round of applause. The woman had provided entertainment after all. Sonja glanced in the direction of Jevon, but he seemingly had no objection to customers brawling on his premises, provided they paid for their drinks first.

"Well," Red Sonja said to the room in general, "it's been a pleasant evening; but I need my beauty sleep so I'm off to the stables. And if any of you feel inclined to pay a visit during the night, ask Falin here whether he thinks that's wise."

Sonja turned on her heel and left. As she did so, she noted that the woman by the far wall hadn't moved a muscle, and her expression hadn't changed at all.