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CHAPTER FOUR

The Standard of Laybridge lived up to its name; the tavern was as dingy and miserable as the rest of the town. Mat sat cradling a cup of revoltingly warm beer in his hands, not even daring to take a sip of the vile stuff. The only other drink available was a curious amber liquid that look thick enough to choke a man. Mat had never heard of a tavern that did not offer wine, even if the wine was rank enough to poleaxe a cow.

Evidently, he was constantly discovering things that made him dislike this town all the more.

A group of disconsolate looking fellows sat hunched in the opposite corner, apparently too disinterested to converse with one another, although they appeared to have no trouble drinking the warm ale; a number of drained tankards sat dejectedly on the table before them.

Mat couldn't blame them for their melancholia. The place seemed to leech the lustre from a man. Or perhaps that was just his current frame of mind.

He wondered where Cal was. Had his friend had any luck locating a healer? Mat hoped so; the prospect of paying that fat fool made him feel ridiculously angry. But perhaps the dolt was right. Maybe there was only one healer in this forsaken town.

If so, Mat guessed that Cal would eventually check any local taverns to seek out his companion. For some reason, they were always the first places he had looked for Mat in the past.

He was getting bored and increasingly agitated. He needed a distraction. Mat began to glance around for something that might wile away some time.

A game of dice was out of the question. The fellows at the table looked as though they might either collapse in tears or a launch an assault if approached.

Turning his attention elsewhere, Mat noticed that landlady was flashing what she must have believed to be coy glances in his direction. He ignored her. He had neither the time nor the inclination for that sort of thing. Well, maybe he would have time for a woman with a bit more flesh on her frame, but certainly not one who looked like she had been hollowed to the point of starvation.

His only other option was the drowsing old man who lay face down on the bar- plank. Mat considered ways to wake the old fellow without causing him a fatal start.

Nothing came to mind. Nonetheless, Mat picked up his tankard, eased himself carefully off his rickety chair, and approached the bar.

The landlady flushed at his approach, a somehow bloodless blush that was near imperceptible from her sickly pallor. Settling himself on a stool not far from the old goat, Mat gave the woman a smile. Nothing too fancy of course, just enough to seem amiable. The woman's smile in return, however, was a great deal more than amiable. Mat cursed silently.

'And what brings a fellow like yourself to our charming little town?' She asked in a husky tone. Unfortunately, her vocal effort called to mind the brand of huskiness caused by a hard night on bad ale and bad tabac.

Mat tried to make his smile friendly, but not too suggestive. He certainly had no intention of encouraging her.

'I have been searching for a healer. They seem to be a little thin on the ground in these parts.'

'Another one, eh?'

Mat blinked 'Excuse me?'

'Two handsome men searching for a healer on the same night. I hope this becomes a habit.' She smiled, revealing an array of less than white teeth.

Mat winced. Cal had been here already. Why hadn't he thought of asking in a place like this first? That man was smarter than he had a right to be.

'I found your healer. Charming fellow he was too.'

'You mean Old Nath?' she cawed a raucous bark of what Mat assumed was laughter 'Don't worry about him. He's got as much spit in him as that toothless mutt of his.'

Mat grunted.

'I suppose he gave you a ear bashing for disturbing him at this hour, eh?' she chuckled at rueful expression. 'As I say, don't worry about that fat fool. He has nothing to do with what is practiced in that grotty little hovel of his, so your sick one will be in good hands.'

Mat feigned interest. 'Who does the work then? An apprentice?'

The woman shook her head, an almost sorrowful look on her face that Mat was sure was more affectation that genuine regret.

'No, not an apprentice. We all guessed she was his daughter, though we don't know for certain.' The woman heaved a dramatic sigh before narrowing her small, hard eyes. 'Did you see her?

Mat nodded. Well he had, in a way. That pale hand had looked feminine. Unthinking, he raised his tankard to his lips, and took long draft. Smiling through his revulsion, he managed a convulsive swallow.

'Who is she?' he asked in a slightly choked voice, desperately trying to distract himself from the burning after effects of the rancid ale.

'Well, they came here I'd say, oh, three winters past. I watched him lift her from his horse, sweet slip of a thing she was, and that's the last I saw her.' The woman sighed again. 'She was so precious, all wrapped up in this pretty red cloak, and he looked very fine in his green coat breeches, and I thought 'at last, we finally have some good folk in this town.'

The landlady paused to take a swig from the old man's tankard. He didn't appear to notice.

'You last saw her five years ago?' Mat asked in a disbelieving tone

'Oh, some have seen her since.' The woman assured 'She is still the Healer in this town, after all. Joeyce Fell had a birthing last season, and the girl was there to deliver the child. Did a good job too, by the sound of things.'

'But no one has actually seen her, apart from when she's healing?' Mat pressed.

The woman shook her head so her drooping curls swayed listlessly. 'She won't leave the practice unless there is urgent need for her in the town.'

Mat cursed aloud. If the girl was so reluctant to practice in her own village, how was he going to get her to the camp? He clung to the hope that Per could use her remedies well, without the need for her presence.

'What was that?' that supposedly seductive sound still rasped in the woman's voice. 'I didn't quite catch what you said.'

'Oh, nothing.' He muttered, noting that the woman was leaning over the bar in an attempt to display her less than admirable attributes. He had to stop doing that. Who would have thought that women would find the Old Tongue so seductive? And curse words at that!

'Perhaps she's just the nervous type.' Mat suggested, eager to distract her from whatever she was thinking.

'Hmmm? Oh, her.' To Mat's relief, the woman leaned away a little 'Perhaps. Perhaps he stops her leaving the place except when he knows she will get paid for her healing.' She shrugged her bony shoulders.

'How are we to know? Everyone is long past caring I suppose.'

'Except when they have need of her aid, I suppose.' Mat found he did not care for this woman's attitude towards the idea of someone being kept against their will.

The woman's expression became affronted. It seemed to be his night for offending people.

They lapsed into silence. The woman stared at him for a time, before resuming her unenthusiastic swabbing of the grimy bar.

The tavern door suddenly burst open with a thud loud enough to rouse the unhappy rabble at the table of despair.

Mat spun to face the door, his hand clasped a conveniently placed knife hilt. Upon seeing the perpetrator of the dramatic entrance, however, he relaxed.

Cal's eyes fixed upon him. 'Mat! Thought I'd find you here.'

The man was droll, Mat gave him that.

Bounding to the bar plank, Cal took a moment to catch his breath before speaking further.

'The healer's not at all happy with you, Mat, Did you really threaten him with a knife?'

The landlady's head came up sharply, eye's almost seeming to bore into Mat's. Mat flashed a devastating smile at her.

'Forgive my friend. He is somewhat prone to fancies.'

The woman did not appear convinced as he eyes flitted to his hands, obviously searching for a weapon of some kind.

Cal was still spluttering as Mat grasped his shoulder and hauled him from the bar.

'The man was an imbecile.' Mat hissed ' He needed persuading.'

'So you persuaded him with your knife?' Cal sounded doubtful.

'It does not matter. For all his bluster, he needs the money. Who doesn't in this place?

Cal glanced around 'It is sort of shabby, isn't it?'

'You've noticed. Good. The man will help us. We just have to wait a little, that is all.'

'How long?' Cal was wringing his hands 'Lawes was so ill when we left, Mat. Per doesn't know if he'll make it.'

Mat clasped his friend's shoulder, reassuringly this time. 'Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.'

For some reason, Cal's expression grew even more fretful.

'Stop that.' Mat snapped, glancing around the bar. The men were now eyeing the pair, their faces a mixture of consternation and dull irritation.

Pushing Cal down into a chair, Mat hitched his own seat closer to his friend.

'Everything is going to be fine. We just have to wait a little.'

'Wait for what?' Cal murmured, his eyes bright with fear.

'I don't know.' Mat muttered. An odd sensation was flittering in the back of his mind. It lacked the strength of its previous incarnations, but it was there nonetheless.

'But I have a feeling we are going to find out soon enough.'