Chapter 3…A Good Time Is Had By Some
"Going to the Den is a very bad idea."
"You already said that, Jess," Neeshka said. She smirked at me. "About six times now."
"So why am I letting you talk me into this?" I asked. I was in Neeshka's bedchamber. She was laying out clothes for me to wear. I was out of my mind.
"Do we need to go over that again?" She waggled her eyebrows and wiggled her hips.
I guessed not.
It was my own fault, too. I could have said no at any time. I still could, in fact. My curiosity was going to get me in trouble and I knew it.
"People are going to recognize me, you know."
"You'll be in disguise."
"It would be pretty embarrassing if my polymorph spell suddenly wore off."
"You wizards are all alike." She snorted. "You think magic is the solution to every problem. By the time I'm through with you, your own mother wouldn't recognize you." She gave me an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, I forgot she was dead."
"It's okay. I don't remember her. But how are you going to disguise me? I am the captain of the keep, you know. People have seen me hanging around the place a time or two."
"Most folks aren't very observant. You'd be surprised how easy it is to fool them. People know you by that ratty gray robe you wear all the time and by that braid down your back. Get rid of them and you're a different person."
"My robe isn't ratty," I said indignantly. It was my favorite robe, soft and warm and comfortable like a second skin. So far I'd managed to avoid collecting any massive bloodstains or having the sleeves chewed off by zombies.
"I know you've got nicer robes. Why don't you ever wear them?"
"I like this one. Besides, I'm saving them."
"For what?" Neeshka raised her brows. "A bigger, better fight?" I shrugged.
"I might need the stronger protection later."
"Me, I say wear the good stuff now. You might get better stuff later, if you live that long, and if you die, well, there you are: Dead. Anyway, it doesn't matter for tonight," she said. "You can't wear that dingy old thing to the Den. Take it off."
I peeled out of my robe. Underneath I wore leggings and a tunic and both of them, I had to admit, were on the ratty side. Hey, they didn't show. What difference did it make? Neeshka's lip curled up.
"Off," she said and when I hesitated, she added, "Come on. The night isn't getting any younger."
I stripped down to my underclothes. At least my linens passed inspection. That was thanks to Delma, my squire-maid, who made sure that all my linens were dainty—befitting the Lady of Crossroad Keep. The lace wouldn't hold an enchantment so it served no useful purpose, but life in the keep was full of little compromises. I didn't whine about the lace (much) and Delma didn't yap about my ratty working clothes (much).
"Here," Neeshka said and tossed me a buttery-soft pair of doeskin pants. We were close enough in size that if I pulled the laces tight, they fit fine. There was a problem though.
"Neeshka, there is a big gaping hole in the back of these pants." She flicked me with the end of her tail.
"I know."
"I can't go out like this!"
"Sure you can," she said with a grin. "I do it all the time."
"I don't have a tail, you know. Someone might see my linens."
"Then take them off."
"Neeshka!" She laughed at me.
"Keep your tunic pulled down and no one will ever know."
"I'll know." She just rolled her eyes.
"Don't be a baby," she said and tossed me the flame-colored tunic. It was tight. It was cut low. It was barely long enough to cover the hole in the back of Neeshka's pants. It looked like something one of Ophala's dancers would wear at the Moonstone Mask.
"Eek," I said. If I had to dress like this, I wanted a mask to cover my embarrassment.
"That looks great on you. I might have to let you keep it after all."
"This is indecent," I said. "You can see my…bosom." Neeshka laughed.
"That's good. If the men are looking at your 'bosom', they won't be looking at your face," she said. "It's the perfect disguise. Now we need to do something with your hair."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Don't tell me, let me guess: your father started braiding your hair like this when you were six years old and you haven't gotten around to trying a new hairstyle."
"My hair is unruly. It has to be tied up. Besides, I can't fight when my hair is in my eyes."
"Yeah, sure, whatever. You're not fighting tonight, though, are you? We're going to have some fun. You've got nice hair but men like it loose, like this."
She brushed out my hair until it hung like a thick and shaggy brown cloak covering my shoulders.
"Unruly," she said. "That's one word for it. I bet you've broken a comb or two. Me, I like it like this but maybe you should ask Sand if he has a spell to control hair. His always looks perfect."
"That's elf blood for you," I said. "My dad spent most of his life tramping around in the swamp and yet he never had trouble with his hair either." We traded shrugs and then she attacked me with perfume and cosmetics.
"Do you want to see how you look?" she asked. She passed me a mirror. It was made of costly silvered glass and I didn't want to know where it had come from.
"I doubt it," I grumbled, but I was curious enough to take a look. "Ack!"
"You'll be fine," she said, and then she grinned, draped me in a hooded cloak and pulled me out the door.
It wasn't hard to avoid the Greycloak sentries; in fact, it was pathetically easy. Maybe that was Neeshka's doing or maybe I would have to have some stiff words with Kana in the morning. Once I got the gunk scrubbed off my face and some decent clothes on, that is.
The lookout lounging by the entrance to the Den was marginally more vigilant than my own Greycloaks, but when he saw Neeshka, he waved us inside with no questions asked. His eyes flicked to my face and lingered on my exposed bosom. It looked like Neeshka had been right.
I had to admit that I was very curious to see the Den for myself. I was a bit disappointed to see no obvious signs of depravity. The Den didn't seem so different from the little bar Simmy ran in Old Owl Well, although for some strange reason (perhaps to justify the ridiculously inflated prices) she had called her place an 'ale garden'. Ale—yes, garden—no.
Of course, the fact that the Den was inside a big cave did differentiate it from your average dive. The cave roof soared far overhead and sound echoed strangely. I wondered how many drunks had stumbled on the rough rock underfoot. The bar itself had been cobbled together from rough hewn planks—a far cry from the silky smooth and lovingly polished countertop in the Phoenix Tail up in the keep. There were stools at the counter but most of the drinkers stood around in small groups or leaned against the dry cave walls. There were few concessions to comfort—no food, no tables, no bard, and almost nowhere to sit. The place had a very temporary feel to it, like a war camp. There was no cheery fire but that meant there was no choking smoke either and the slight chill was not particularly uncomfortable.
Or it wouldn't have been if I had been wearing my nice warm robe—or any clothes that covered me adequately. As it was, I felt rather exposed fore and aft.
I followed the tiefling to the bar. The bartender smiled.
"Hi, Neeshka," he said. "I was wondering if I'd see you in here tonight. Who's your friend?"
"This is Jasmine," she said, poking me in the side with her tail, presumably so I would pay attention to my new name.
"I'm Paetr. Welcome to the Den," he said, and at his slight frown, two of the men at the bar got up and gave us their stools. At Neeshka's direction, Paetr served us a couple of ales. No coin changed hands, I noticed, although something did. I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to notice that the bartender slipped something small to Neeshka when he handed her the mugs. It was probably a gem. Neeshka liked gems.
"I don't think I've seen you in here before, Jasmine," he said in a friendly tone. I shook my head.
"It's her first time here. A couple of caravans came in today," Neeshka said—two unrelated statements from the tiefling of deception.
"Ah, I see," he said, apparently jumping to the conclusion Neeshka had dangled before him. "Some of your fellow travelers are in the back rooms, I think."
"The back rooms?" Neeshka poked me in the side again.
"I'll show you later," she said. "Things been quiet tonight?" she asked Paetr.
"Yes, no trouble," he said. I followed his gaze to the wall to my left where a very large skeleton stood. My mouth dropped open for a moment.
"What in the Nine Hells is that?" I hopped off the stool, grabbed my mug and walked over to the skeleton. The closer I got, the stronger the power I felt coming off it. Someone had dropped a powerful enchantment.
"Hold on a moment, Je…Jasmine," Neeshka called. She hurried after me. I reached my hand up to the skull. "Don't touch it!" Neeshka cried, her voice suddenly urgent.
Red lights flared in the empty eye sockets. I could feel the summoned creature suddenly snap to attention. It startled me and I jumped, slopping ale on the ground. The skeleton stared at me and then bent down and cocked its head as if to get a closer look. I could feel the intelligence behind its fiery eyes.
"Mystra's breath," I said. "How extremely interesting!" The sudden hush in the room made me look around to see what had caused it. Avid eyes implied that something exciting was about to happen—to me.
"Who did this?" I asked Neeshka, but before she could answer, I knew. I knew who had called it and I knew who was looking through its eyes. I rose up on tiptoe and whispered to the skeleton as it continued to lean over me.
"Hello, Ammon."
Flames twinkled back at me.
Neeshka took my arm and steered me towards a dark corridor as the room behind us erupted in loud conversation. She had grabbed the arm with the mug and it was all I could do to keep from spilling the rest of my ale as she hustled me into another cavern. This was smaller than the first, or so I guessed, but it was hard to judge the size due to the maze of partition walls made of logs or saplings draped with old tapestries or carpets.
"Okay," I said, jerking my arm out of Neeshka's hold. "Why does Ammon have a skeleton here? What's going on?"
"It's the bouncer," she said. "If anyone causes trouble in the bar or tries to mess with the skeleton, it picks them up and throws them outside. It's really entertaining—you wouldn't believe how strong that skeleton is."
"Actually I would," I said. "But you didn't answer my question. Why is it here?"
"But Jess, you left us in charge."
"Huh?"
"In that big meeting, remember, you said the Den could stay but Ammon and I had to be responsible that nothing bad happened."
Did I say that? Maybe I did. I wasn't sure I had meant it though.
"Oh. So you two are keeping an eye on the place?" She nodded, happy that I understood. "Okay. I guess." I waved my arm. "What's all this?"
"These are the gaming rooms and there are also some, um, privacy rooms in the back." She leaned in close. "So if you meet someone you like, you can spend time with him here. After all, it would kind of give the game away if you brought someone back to the Knight-Captain's bedchamber, right? This place is much more discreet."
"I'm glad you've got it all figured out," I said dryly. She just grinned.
"So what would you like to do first? There's usually a card game going, or we could throw dice."
"Gamble against you? I think not," I said skeptically. "I'd just as soon hand you my coin purse now and save time." She laughed and shook her head.
"Ah, Jasmine, this place is packed with fellows who want to hand me their coin purse," she said. "It's practically my duty to pick them clean. They owe you."
"Why do you say that?" She leaned over to whisper in my ear.
"You're paying the workers three times the going rate, Jess. These guys don't know what to do with all the coin in their pockets. The least they can do is buy you a drink or two, or take a few losses at the dice table. Don't you think?" With a gleeful look, she added, "I don't even have to pay the house a percentage on my winnings."
I just shook my head. Sometime I'd have to let Sand know that we had found a way to tax the Den after all.
"I'm not interested in gambling," I said. "Let's just go get another drink. I spilled most of this one."
I made sure we walked past the skeleton bouncer on the way back to the bar. Its eerie eyes tracked me as I passed it and I gave it a little finger wave. When we reached the bar, we handed Paetr our mugs for a refill. One of the guys at the bar politely offered Neeshka his stool. The fellow next to him did not, despite the significant look Paetr gave him.
"Thudgar, give the lady your seat," the bartender said. Thudgar was a big fellow, a stoneworker, judging by the dust on his clothes and in his beard. It looked like he had come straight from the work site without taking time to attend to his personal grooming. Thudgar looked me up and down, but apparently his eyes were too tired to make it much higher than my cleavage.
"Sure," he said and before I knew what he had in mind, he scooped me up and set me on his lap. Thudgar smelled like sweat, stone, and ale. He put one arm around my waist to hold me in place while his free hand—a huge, calloused and very dirty hand—closed around my thigh.
"Ack," I said.
"Hi, sweetheart," he replied. His beard tickled my shoulder as he looked straight down my tunic. "Can I buy you a drink? Anything you like. Want to get married?"
"Mainly I'd like you to put me down," I said. I tried to wiggle free without any notable success. He was a big, big fellow. "Immediately."
"How about a kiss then?" If I hadn't already guessed, the glazed look in his eyes told me Thudgar was already well along the path of drunkenness. I leaned back, trying to avoid his face looming towards mine. He leaned forward. I was a bit reluctant to cast a spell in front of everyone in the bar but I figured no one would notice if I gave him a quick shock. I whispered the words but no one could hear them over the loud thudding noise behind us. Thudgar shuddered from the jolt I gave him and let me go. Off balance, I fell backwards and landed hard on my rear. Thudgar flew high in the air.
He levitated? My spell hadn't done that.
Thudgar wasn't flying, he was propelled. Ammon's skeleton lifted him over its head as if the man weighed no more than a feather. It stomped towards the entrance, its heavy tread the loudest noise in the suddenly quiet bar. There was a short pause and then the skeleton returned alone and reclaimed its position against the wall. It turned to me and lifted its hand in a lazy salute. The silence lasted a moment longer and then there was a ragged cheer.
Neeshka was right. It was certainly entertaining.
"Sorry about that," Paetr said, passing me a fresh mug and giving Neeshka a nervous glance. I could tell he really didn't want to get in trouble with her. There was something terribly amusing about the thought that Neeshka was here as the keeper of the peace.
"No problem," I said, perching on Thudgar's vacated stool. Somehow I doubted he would be back to claim it. "He had too much ale." I'd spent enough time in my uncle's bar, the Sunken Flagon, to not be overly upset by some drunk playing the fool. I smiled, Neeshka smiled, and finally Paetr smiled. Everyone was happy.
Thudgar's dramatic exit seemed to break the ice, and a steady stream of fellows crowded around the bar to buy us drinks and chat about nothing in particular. Everyone seemed to know Neeshka. I smiled and drank and wondered what in the hells I thought I was doing here. I wasn't going to saunter off to one of the back rooms with some guy I'd just met. Most of them seemed nice enough but this just wasn't doing it for me. I'd seen the Den, my curiosity was satisfied; it was time to go. Maybe Sand could brew me a sleeping potion.
So the raspy voice in my ear came as something of a relief.
"You need to come with me, Jess," Ammon said. "Now."