15th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
Suderham, The Pomarj
The effect was not instantaneous, but it was fascinating to see. And to hear.
Only the first ten or twelve patrons closest to the party stopped their activities to regard Bigfellow. This mild drop in the overall volume caused the next closest dozen people to stop what they were doing and eye their now silent fellow customers. They then turned to see what that first group was looking at- which was of course, Argo.
A chain reaction of silence rippled outwards. In less than a minute, a good portion of the massive inn had completely or mostly ceased talking and were now concentrating their attention on Argo Bigfellow Junior and company.
One of that company was just now coming to an even more horrid realization. As the beggar at the gate had implied, a good percentage of the White Knight's patrons were wearing armor and/or carrying weapons. Most of them bore the same insignia that the party had seen on the tabards of the gate guards. Elrohir did some quick counting. There were way too many soldiers here to be merely off-duty patrols and gate guards.
Suderham obviously had its own private army.
The team leader took a few what he hoped were innocuous steps to stand next to Bigfellow so he could speak to his fellow ranger out of the side of his mouth.
For his part, Argo looked immensely pleased with himself.
"Argo," Elrohir began, "please, please, please tell me you know what on Oerth you're doing."
"Would it make you feel any better if I did, Elrohir?" asked Argo, without taking his eyes off the crowd.
"Immeasurably."
"I know what I'm doing, Elrohir."
"Are you lying?"
"Yes."
"I'll get you for this, Bigfellow."
At that point, one of the first soldiers- a man about Zantac's age- who had noticed Argo stood up. The man slowly took off his gargoyle-tipped helmet and laid it on the table in front of him. One hand smoothed his black hair while the other rested easily on the hilt of his longsword.
"If that's a song, friend, I hope it gets better. Or are we just supposed to stand here and gawk at your expensive armor?"
"Here's a tip for yeh people." A younger, ruddy-faced man sitting a few places down from the first speaker now stood up as well. This one wasn't wearing the standard Suderham leather armor, but rather a leather doublet underneath a black surcoat with gold trimming. He made a derisive gesture at the party's bedraggled appearance. "When an armorsmith makes ya a new suit, yeh're supposed to wait 'til it's out of the forge before you try it on!"
This generated a small swell of laughter. Shouts of "Good one, Davis!" and similar proclamations made it clear that the ball was now in Bigfellow's court.
Argo took another step forward and spread his arms apart in a welcoming gesture. He had on his widest smile.
"They tell me Suderham's the best place in the Pomarj to have a good time. Was I told wrong?"
"Depends," replied the first speaker, who now boasted an easy smile to match Bigfellow's. "What's a good time to you?"
Argo played it safe. "What you were doing looked pretty good to me."
Davis scowled. "We'd jus' got started- all we 'ad time to do was be interrupted by you!"
Bigfellow assumed his wounded look. "A thousand pardons, my friend. Forgive my lack of manners; I was born in a swamp; what can you expect?" the big ranger bantered as he headed to join the soldiers. As he did, he turned his head around quickly to eye his friends.
For an instant, the smile vanished.
"The best way to keep quiet is to make a lot of noise. You've got your anonymity, Elrohir- use it fast."
His smile firmly back in place, Argo walked over to the table as the first speaker, clearly the leader of his group, waited for him with folded arms and a reserved expression. Elrohir thought he heard Argo introduce himself, but by then the ambient din of the White Knight had resumed. Whatever name Bigfellow had chosen for himself, the ranger didn't catch it.
Elrohir turned back to his group and motioned for them to follow him. "Come on- to the bar."
Their anonymity was not total. The party's comparatively exotic appearance still drew more than their fair share of stolen glances, muttered asides and outright stares as they wended their way through the crowd towards the bar. Still, no one said anything directly to them.
Eventually, they made their way through a sea of unwashed humanity and a fog of pipeweed smoke to find themselves nearly opposite the huge man in white. He was currently writing down an order from a harried middle-aged server.
"Two flanks, one chicken stew, three house beers and three hands."
"Hands?" Elrohir couldn't help but wonder aloud.
The man in white looked over towards them while handing off the order sheet to a kitchen boy. Either he had hearing on a par with Tojo's, or he had already noted the approach of unusual-looking strangers and had kept one eye and ear open for them. As an innkeeper himself, Elrohir suspected the latter.
"Everyone who lays a hand on one of my girls gets one copper added to their bill," he explained.
Cygnus looked back at the chaos behind them and gave the innkeeper a grin. "Doesn't seem to be much of a deterrent."
Surprisingly, the man glared back at Cygnus with a noticeably unfriendlier expression than that which he had shown Elrohir. Sweat ran down his bald head, but it just continued down his white smock without slowing or being absorbed.
"It's not there for deterrent. It's there for profit. What do you want?"
Zantac made a motion indicating the man's garb. "Is that-"
Elrohir cut him off. "Good evening, my friend. My name is Samuel. Our employer is getting our currency exchanged; he should be here any minute. We'll order then, but we'll also need rooms for the night. What are your rates?"
Zantac eyed his group leader with some irritation. He was about to ask why the ranger had interrupted him like that, but then he noticed that the bar patrons closest to them had turned on their stools and were now staring at both him and Cygnus with the same unfriendly expressions that the man in white had used. He looked up at the taller mage.
Cygnus returned his gaze and bent inward. "I think we're not the favored type here, Zantac." He tried to keep his voice down, but the room was so loud it came out more of a stage whisper. "Remember what the beggar said?"
The obese man finished giving his prices to "Samuel" and then turned back to the two magic-users.
"I know you're strangers here, but you should have been warned anyway. I have a few rooms, but I won't rent to you spellslingers. We've had a bad experience with one here recently, and unless either Ajakstu or Lamonsten vouches for you personally, you're better off going elsewhere. The Magic Missile is down the street and to your left. Should suit your ilk better, anyway."
Cygnus didn't need to be told twice. "Thank you, good sir," he nodded pleasantly, and then clamped down on Zantac's shoulder while turning to Elrohir. "Sam, we'll let Alomovar know where we're going and get our money from him. We'll contact you once we're settled. Come on, Zelhile, let's go."
Zelhile? Zantac fumed at the fact that Cygnus had chosen his pseudonym for him, and moreover that it was one he didn't particularly care for.
Still, there was always room for revenge.
"Sure thing, Cecil!" he exclaimed as loudly as he dared. Several drinkers nearby chuckled into their glasses, and the taller wizard glared at his fellow mage as the two headed towards the exit.
"Cecil?" Cygnus hissed.
"Pet ferret my brother used to have. Skinny, brown, and annoying as all the Hells. Don't know how that name just popped up like that..."
Nesco Cynewine took long gulps of the last of twilight's cool air as the ranger let her body lean forward against the stone of the White Knight. She kept her eyes closed and rested her forehead on her forearm pressed against the building wall.
My god! He knows! Argo knows! What if he tells Aslan? What am I going to do? He wouldn't- he must realize what that would do to him. I will tell Aslan, I promise I will, Lord Zeus, but not today! Why is all this happening now? Why can't-
Nesco squeezed her eyes as tightly as she could, but the tears still escaped.
She might have let them flow longer, but she suddenly realized someone was watching her.
In some horrible, perverse way, she hoped it was Aslan. Maybe he would ask her what was wrong, and demand that she tell him privately. Then it wouldn't be her fault about what happened. She could-
"Nesco, are you all right?"
She sighed. Cygnus' voice.
The ranger wiped her eyes clear yet again and faced the Aardian mage, who along with Zantac was standing just outside the door of the inn.
"I'm all right, Cygnus," she managed.
The tall magic-user bit his lip. "Nesco, if there's anything I can do- if you need to talk-"
"I'm fine," she snapped. There was only one person she wanted to speak with right now, and it wasn't Cygnus. She didn't want the rest of the party thinking she couldn't be counted on, least of all now here in Suderham. Besides, Cygnus sometimes made her feel uncomfortable.
The tall wizard couldn't keep the disappointment off his face. His eyes narrowed and his lips pinched together.
"I just wanted to help, Nesco. I don't know what Argo told you, but not all of us are like him, you know."
Nesco felt a stab of guilt. Cygnus really did look hurt. She hadn't meant to be so perfunctory with him. It's just that now wasn't the time to-
"What are you three doing out here?"
Looking all business, Aslan was striding briskly towards them, not waiting for an answer. He didn't even look Nesco in the eye as he hurriedly counted off some coins in his hand and handed them off to her. For her part, Nesco just stared dumbly at the money until she realized Alomovar was still standing in front of her.
"Nesco," she heard him say. "Blackthorn is here."
The ranger's face shot up like lightning. Alomovar's brown eyes, so unlike Aslan's light blue ones but still with that sense of purpose behind them, were now boring into her own.
"I ran into a guard patrol; he's their captain. I'm pretty sure he didn't recognize me, but if he sees any of you, the game's up for sure. Remember, he can polymorph just as I can- he may have other identities he uses here. You've all got to be on the alert at all times! "
"We'll be careful," Cygnus replied. "And to answer your question, the White Knight doesn't seem to cater to us arcanists. There's another place down the street; the Magic Missile. We'll get back in touch with you once we're settled. We'll also do a little digging of our own, but don't worry; we'll be discreet."
Zantac spoke up as Aslan grunted and gave some more coins to each of the two wizards. "I'm Zelhile by the way, and this is my friend Cecil. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Alomovar."
The paladin raised an eyebrow at that, but still seemed too tense to make any frivolous comments. "Are the others inside?" he asked Nesco as the two mages started to head down the boulevard.
Nesco was just finished composing herself as best she could- this was definitely not the time for distractions, she told herself- when they heard Cygnus' retort.
"Yeah. Argo's entertaining the locals while the others are getting rooms."
Cecil's next statement was surprisingly hostile.
"Someone needs to tell Bigfellow to keep his big mouth shut sometimes."
Alomovar looked curiously at Nesco for an explanation. The ranger, however, shook her head.
"It's nothing, Aslan- I mean Alomovar. Just the usual problems. I, uh, decided to keep watch outside."
The paladin stared at her. "The usual problems," he repeated.
Nesco nodded dumbly. It looked to her for all the world like Aslan was just now noticing the fact that she had been crying.
Aslan seemed on the verge of answering another question, but then he seemed to revert back to being Alomovar, and just nodded in return.
"All right, then. Let's go inside."
"So, Toar; what brings you to Suderham?"
Argo Bigfellow Junior carefully considered his reply. This was made more difficult than it might have been otherwise because he was being distracted by the copious amounts of liquor and ales being consumed by his seatmates. "Toar" was suddenly realizing how long it had been since he had had a real good drink, and his throat parched up just a little more with every swig someone near him took. No one had yet to offer him anything.
The big ranger wet his lips and eyed his questioner; the initial speaker of this group. The man had introduced himself as Ayres.
Toar kept his voice casual. "We're hired protection for a merchant named Alomovar."
Ayres frowned. "Fat? Bright red beard?"
Toar nodded. "That's the one."
"Man's a right jackass," sneered Davis. "He came barging in here once, yellin' at his men and tryin' to drag 'em outside." He shook his head, and then glared at Argo. "We don' take to tha' kind of behavior 'ere."
"Nor should you," agreed Toar.
Ayres was looking thoughtfully at Bigfellow. "Alomovar had a different crew with him last time he was here. Certainly not any of you. What happened to them?"
Argo favored him with a cryptic smile. "I'm sorry to say, they're no longer with us. It seems that while protecting Alomovar on the way here, they ran into some trouble they couldn't handle."
"What kind of trouble?" asked the soldier sitting next to Ayers.
Toar paused before answering. His smile turned from cryptic to predatory.
"Us."
That got the reaction Argo expected. The entire table tensed up, but Toar continued as casually as if he was discussing the weather.
"Alomovar's no fool. He doesn't carry large sums of money on him. He told us if we spared his life, we'd make more being his new bodyguards than we ever could through banditry."
"How so?' asked Ayers.
Argo shrugged. "We work on commission now. We get a percentage on every deal he makes. It's in our best interests to see that he stays safe, happy and successful." The ranger looked Ayers in the eye now. "Sorry if those others were your friends, but it's how we operate. There's nothing personal involved."
The men sitting at the table silently looked at each other, silently gauging each other's reactions. None of them really could formulate an objection that they would dare to air, so they remained silent.
Except one.
"So if a better deal came along, yeh'd stab Alomovar in the back, right?' asked Davis rhetorically. "Yer nothin' but a bunch of brigands."
Toar gave him a raised eyebrow. "I prefer the term freelancers, but in any case that's all in the past. We've honest and legal work now, and we're very happy with it. Doesn't every man aspire to that?"
Davis continued to glare back at Argo, but he spoke now to his friend. "I don' think this kind o' scum should be sitting wit' us, Ayres."
Ayres seemed to consider for a moment, and then turned to face Davis.
"He's done nothing illegal here on the Aerie, Davis. It's not our job to determine another man's character. There are people here who can do that just fine."
Curiously, with that remark Ayres lifted his eyes towards the ceiling momentarily. His seatmates did likewise, and Argo followed, though he saw nothing except crossbeams and the building's peaked roof.
When he looked back again at Toar, Ayres had on a more serious expression.
"However, we come here to drink and be merry, and- to be frank, Toar- you've brought us down a great deal. We're always courteous to outsiders, but that hospitality must be returned in kind." The soldier folded his arms and gazed steadily at the ranger. "What do you propose to do about that?"
The table looked expectantly at Argo, who was thinking furiously behind his placid and utterly false thoughtful expression. His first instinct would have been to buy a round for everyone, but he didn't have a copper on him.
Amidst the general tumult, Bigfellow could just make out somewhere on the far side of the room a lute being played- rather badly. The music abruptly stopped amidst the sound of protesting, followed by the sound of breaking wood.
Toar smiled and tapped the rim of the nearest flagon. "How about a drinking song?"
This brought smiles and animated conversations amongst the table concerning the particulars. Eventually, Ayres signaled for quiet and returned his attention to Argo.
"All right, Toar. We're always up for a good song, but here's the catch- it's got to be one we've never heard before, and a majority of us have to approve of it. You win and it's a round of Galda brandy for you- on me. You lose…"
And here Ayre's own smile turned predatory.
"…and the drink is Orc Kragg."
"And we'll hold ya down to make sure ya drink every drop," added Davis with a sadistic grin.
Despite himself, Argo couldn't hide his reaction, which delighted the others immensely.
"Oh, ho! He knows it!" shouted the soldier sitting next to Ayres.
Of course I know it, you idiot, Bigfellow thought. It's where I got the idea for green goop from- and even after years of experimentation, our goop still can't hold a candle to the original. My stomach wouldn't speak to me for six months after that debacle.
Toar smiled and stood up. "Get that brandy ready."
The table erupted into hoots and hollers, which was apparently a familiar enough signal for the surrounding tables to turn their attention this way as well.
Argo eyed the table for a moment, and then with a mighty leap, just managed to jump straight up on top of it. It was a feat which never failed to impress; a man in plate mail jumping like that. It also never failed to bring a stabbing pain to both of Argos' knees, a fact which he didn't bother to hide.
"I'm really gonna need that drink now," he grimaced at Ayres.
"Sing first," challenged Davis. "Less see what yeh've got."
"All right," Toar agreed, and then looked at the men around him. "I'm originally from the Great Kingdom. Do any of you know I Swear By My First Beer?"
The men looked at each. No one had.
"It's a favorite in all the barracks halls in Rauxes." Argo began to tap his foot on the table and clap his hands to the rhythm in his head. His voice was not a trained one by any measure, but it was loud and clear. It was the voice of someone who was no stranger to singing. He started out the first chorus slowly, but by the end was building into a faster refrain.
Got a sad story to tell you folks
It'll make you tremble with fear
'Bout a simple man just lookin' for love
On nights like this with the moons above
Can't find no girl- that's why I'm here
I swear by my first beer
There was Vi the Thief Lord, met her in the city of Blue
She had no sword, but she cut my heart right in two
Then one evening, the city guard closed in
Vi held me close, then set me up
Now I'm doin' five to ten
A number of the table, including Ayres, laughed at this. A few men started tapping their feet.
Got a sad story to tell you folks
It'll make you tremble with fear
'Bout a simple man just lookin' for love
On nights like this with the moons above
Can't find no girl- that's why I'm here
I swear by my third beer
There was Ann who said, "Tore, my husband Bork- he's a dumb one
While he's at war, why don't you and I have some fun?"
Under the covers, she made me scream for more
Then in walked Bork; a full-blood orc
I made straight for the door!
Argo had them. Nearly the entire table was now clapping along and joining in on the chorus.
Got a sad story to tell you folks
It'll make you tremble with fear
'Bout a simple man just lookin' for love
On nights like this with the moons above
Can't find no girl- that's why I'm here
I swear by my fifth beer
There was pretty Lucy; she made my loins seethe with pure lust
When we kissed I, thought my heart would just plain go bust
Didn't care if I was married; chastity she scorned
Push came to shove when we made love
I felt her tiny horns!
The table exploded with roars of approval and the banging of mugs and flagons. By the time Toar finished the final chorus, dragging out the last line with his "tenth beer," Ayres was already signaling the bar. Argo caught a brief glimpse of Elrohir and the others staring at him, but his attention swiftly returned to his immediate surroundings.
With every sip of the delectable, fruit-flavored brandy, Argo could feel his tongue not tasting Orc Kragg.
Double good, the ranger thought to himself, smiling at his new friends pounding him on the back. Davis seemed to content himself with a polite smile.
"I had no idea my bodyguard was a bard on the side."
The table looked up. Alomovar was standing alongside them. Next to her was a young woman clad in chainmail who stood partially behind the merchant, apparently trying to avoid attention.
Ayres showed a stone face to the new arrival. "Good evening, Alomovar. I trust you'll be more highly mannered this time around."
Aslan looked at him puzzled, but Davis continued the thread.
"Aye, tha's right. Yeh're lucky this one and his friends didn' slit yer belly." The young man glared at the paladin. "Ya oughta be more careful 'bout who ya keep for company."
"Speaking of which," cut in the soldier sitting next to Ayers, "Hello there, angel eyes!"
The remark was aimed straight at Nesco, and she could feel Alomovar moving slightly away from her. It was obvious that hiding in the background wasn't going to be an option.
Nesco's nervousness spiked. The only other time she had been situations like this one was when she had been relaxing with other members of the Azure Order while out in the field. The remarks were risqué then to be sure, but she knew they were coming from males who were basically gentlemen at heart.
She was pretty sure that wasn't the case here.
Davis stood up, a little unsteady now. "So yer 'ol Fatso's protection too, eh, pretty?" He leered at the ranger. "Tell me lass, do ya sleep wit' tha' long sword?"
"Nah," the other soldier shot back, while indicating Alomovar. "It's probably only a tiny dagger!"
The table exploded with laughter at this one. Toar could see Aslan struggling to remain calm and in character. The big ranger frowned. That wasn't usual for Aslan. Normally, the paladin had as thick a skin as his alter-ego Grock the ogre.
Alomovar smiled a tight smile. "Have your fun, gentlemen. One never knows what tomorrow may bring."
That made us no friends, Argo thought with a sigh, as he watched his new-found drinking partners glare at the merchant. If Aslan noticed, he gave no sign as he withdraw some coins from his belt pouch and laid them on the table in front of Argo.
"Drink up, my friend, but behave yourself. The guard patrols here are not to be trifled with. In fact, I was just speaking with the leader of one of them- a particularly ghastly-looking fellow by the name of… now what was it… oh, yes. Blackthorn."
Argo of course had not been there for the party's battle with the ogre mage, but the tale had been recounted enough that the paladin hoped the name would still ring a bell. Apparently it did; Bigfellow's eyebrows scraped the ceiling, but the others seated at the table were too busy nodding in sorrowful agreement.
"By the Dragon, tha' man's a piece o' work," mumbled Davis.
"He mentioned being new here. Any idea where he's from?" Aslan ventured.
Ayres shrugged. "Somewhere in the hills. Rumor has it he's a half-orc outcast from one of the Flan tribes there. No one messes with him because it's known he's here on orders from the Nine, but Blackthorn won't have any part of being sociable."
"That's right," added the soldier next to him. "He never eats or drinks with us. We may have to work with him, but at least the Lords never said we had to be nice to him. I'm glad on not on his shift."
"Well, I'm going to check up on the rest of my men, "Alomovar said. "A pleasant evening to you all, gentlemen." He and Nesco turned to leave.
"We're right here if yer lady friend wants ta join us," Davis leered at Nesco again. "I've got plenty o' coin, sweet girl. Mebbe ya could protect me later tonight?"
The new laughter at the table cut off abruptly as Aslan whirled around.
Neither Argo nor Nesco could believe what they were seeing. The merchant's face was flushing red enough to hide his beard, and his bushy eyebrows were drawn so low by his scowl, they were nearly covering his eyes. His fat, stubby fingers were clenched into fists.
I've got to do something, Nesco thought furiously, seeing the bodies of those at the table tense up again. He looks like he's about to use his Talent on them!
"It's all right," she said as calmly as she could. She put some silkiness into her voice while smiling at Davis and his cronies. "Thanks for the offer, boys, but I'm here on business." She turned her back on the table nonchalantly. "Let's go, Aslan."
Even before the word left her lips, Nesco realized her mistake.
She whirled around, but the paladin was already glaring at her with an expression quickly moving from surprise to anger.
"Aslan?" repeated Ayers.
Argo stood up. "Don't any of you speak Old Oeridian?" Toar asked, shaking his head in pity. "It means sweetheart."
Alomovar and Nesco gaped at the big ranger, who now walked around behind and between them and draped one arm over each of their shoulders.
"Don't take offense, gentlemen, but you can't blame Alomovar here for getting steamed," Toar announced proudly. "These two have had eyes for each other since they met!"
This sparked more crude comments from the table, but neither of "these two" heard them. They were both hurling daggers from their eyes at Argo, and one identical thought ran through both minds.
I'll get you for this, Bigfellow.
"Here they come," Talass noted.
The cleric, her husband and the samurai watched as Aslan and Nesco made their way towards them. They both moved stiffly and had very tense expressions on their faces. Elrohir wondered if Argo, who still drinking at the table, had drunkenly blown their cover or something.
The duo joined them. Alomovar fumbled a good while with his belt pouch before managing to extract more coins and distribute them amongst the others.
"Is everything all right, Alomovar?" Samuel whispered to the paladin.
"Fine," was the mumbled response as Alomovar stared at the floor.
Tojo was eyeing Nesco curiously, but she too avoided his gaze, and threw her eyes all around the room- everywhere except at Aslan.
I wonder if I really want to know, was Elrohir's only thought before he pushed it aside in favor of immediate concerns. He turned back to the bar and piled up ten gold coins on it in addition to the fee for their rooms. "I was told at the front gate that this place came recommended," Samuel emphasized the word just as much as he wanted.
The huge man's eyes came up to meet the ranger's and found them waiting.
Neither said anything.
Sam expected the innkeeper's eyes to dart to the left and right before replying, but instead they darted upwards and then back down. Slowly his obese body relaxed, and a nonchalant look appeared on his face.
"You know," he said casually, while picking up and drying a glass runner he had just dried, "if you're tired from a long journey, you really need to relax, and Suderham offers the best relaxation you'll find anywhere in The Pomarj."
His tone of voice made it evident what he was talking about. Alomovar sighed, but the others kept their eyes on the man's face.
"Now, nothing against my girls," the man in white went on, "but we've got three amazing brothels here. I'm sure one of them can supply you with what you're looking for. Man, woman, human or no- it don't matter."
Again, they caught the emphasis, but there was nothing further. The man swept up his money, mumbled "You've got rooms four and five," and moved on down the bar.
The quintet looked at each other.
"That's it?" Alomovar asked.
"What did you expect?" retorted Talass. "Here's the secret password to join the Underground movement against the Slave Lords?"
"We haven't journeyed hundreds of miles just to go to a whorehouse!" the paladin hissed.
"Must be crue there," Tojo offered. "It may be that prostitute girrs have knowredge that can assist us. Even in Nippon, many powerfer peoper have been brought row by their desires. Tongues often wag. Srave Rords may be no different."
The others considered this. Elrohir spoke up first. "That's good thinking,To-"
He stopped and eyed his samurai friend. "You realize you need a name."
Tojo's eyes registered his displeasure at the idea. "Peoper from Kara-Tur very rare here, Sam-san, and samurai even more so. I do not think different name wirr disguise me very werr."
"That may be, but it's got to be all of us or none of us, and we're all already committed. So come on- give me something."
Tojo sighed deeply and considered for a few moments before giving a slight bow and responding.
"Tsugo."
Talass unexpectedly smiled.
"That's a beautiful choice, To- I mean, Tsugo. I believe it suits you very well."
Nesco spoke, but her voice was dull, and she still wasn't looking anyone in the eye. "We should probably turn in. It's late, and we need to be fresh for the morning."
This was agreed to, and the five made their way towards the staircase on the northern wall. Before they reached it, Nesco felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Alomovar looking at her again.
"Don't feel badly, Nesco. Anyone could have made a slip-up like that. None of us are accustomed to this kind of situation."
That's not why I'm feeling this way, Aslan, was Nesco's private thought, but she kept the conversation neutral.
"I know. It's all right anyway, I guess. Argo covered for us. It's a good thing none of them really did speak Old Oeridian."
Aslan nodded and seemed about to drop the matter when words suddenly blurted out of his mouth.
"Nesco- what Argo said. Did that make you feel uncomfortable?"
The ranger started to shake. She couldn't reply. She looked at Alomovar's face, but she couldn't tell if he had merely noticed her reaction or if he had guessed at the reasons behind it. Those damned paladin eyes, no matter what color they might be, never revealed any clues to Nesco. Never. She couldn't just-
She could only shrug in resignation and head up the stairs, brushing by everyone else.
Elrohir stared at Nesco's retreating back and told his wife and "Tsugo" to follow her to their rooms. He then went back down the stairs towards Aslan. When the paladin saw him coming, he turned his gaze back towards the common room.
"I think I'm going to scout out the city a little tonight in fly-form, Sam," Alomovar pre-empted his friend. "I- I don't feel much like sleeping, and I'll be fully mindrested by morning anyway. I'll make sure the mages are all right, eavesdrop a bit here and there, that sort of thing."
His eyes settled on Toar, still drinking at the table, and his features hardened.
"Cecil was right. Someone does need to teach Bigfellow to keep his trap shut. Maybe sooner than later."
"Aslan." Elrohir leaned in close to his friend while making a gesture of helplessness. "Aslan, I don't know what it is, but something happened over there with you, Nesco and Argo, and if it's going to affect any or all of us, as team leader I need to know what it is! Just what in the name of Asgard is going on?"
The merchant glanced over at his companion. His features didn't soften.
"Just the usual problems, Samuel."
Elrohir's reply never reached his ears- Alomovar was already moving off towards the front door. The ranger closed his eyes and clenched his fists in frustration.
Whatever they are, we can't afford those kinds of problems, Aslan. I don't think we're going to get a second chance at this.
He turned and headed up the stairs.