Krondor : Tear of the Gods (Riftwar Legacy Book 3)

“Alton! There’s other business you’d best be attending.”

 

 

The man named Alton replied, “We’ll talk about this later, Toddy. By the heavens, we will!”

 

Farmer Alton turned and walked quickly away. The other man said, “I apologize for Farmer Alton’s rudeness. He’s a bit upset about some recent troubles.”

 

“What was he saying about soldiers?” Jazhara asked.

 

“A squad of Krondorian guardsmen came through here a few days ago, chasing a fugitive, I think.”

 

Jazhara glanced at James. “William’s company?”

 

James nodded. “Could be.”

 

Solon dismounted. “What were the troubles the farmer was referring to?” he asked.

 

Toddy glanced down at the ground, then looked up again. “We . . . uh . . . We’ve had some problems with wolves lately. What with the long winter and all. . . Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting back to the inn. You’d do well to join me, as I only keep the doors open for an hour or two after sunset, and I’d hate to see you trapped outside . . .” He hurried inside the inn and closed the door.

 

“That was odd,” observed Kendaric.

 

James indicated that they should ride to the rear of the inn, and by the time they had reached the stabling yard, a boy was hurrying to take their horses. James instructed the boy on the care they required, then they walked back to the front of the inn and entered through the main door.

 

The inn was pleasant enough, if small. The lower floor was occupied by a taproom and kitchen, with a single flight of stairs running up the rear wall leading to the second floor. A fireplace off to the left contained a roaring blaze. A savory-smelling broth simmered in a huge copper kettle that hung before the fire. To one side a large spit stood ready for whatever meat was to be that evening’s fare.

 

Toddy appeared a moment later carrying a large, spitted haunch of beef, which he put into the spit cradle. “Maureen!” he bellowed. “Come turn the beef!”

 

An older woman hurried out of the kitchen and nodded as she passed the innkeeper. Toddy turned to James and his companions. “I’m glad you decided to spend the night here. It may not be as fancy as you’re used to, but I’d like you to consider it a home away from home. I can serve you an ale, if you like.”

 

“That would be a start,” said Kendaric.

 

“Well, then,” said the innkeeper. “Seatyourselves and I’ll fetch the ale.”

 

He was back in a few minutes with four ceramic mugs full of frothy ale. “My name is Aganathos Toddhunter. Folks around here call me ‘Toddy.’ I’m both innkeeper and mayor of this small village. Hold the Prince’s writ to act as justice in misdemeanor and justice of the peace in civil issues,” he noted with some pride.

 

“Quite a bit of responsibility,” said James, dryly.

 

“Not really,” Toddy said, looking a bit deflated. “Truth is, the worst is usually a pig who wanders onto a neighbor’s property and having to decide who pays damages or who keeps the pig.” The attempt at humor was forced.

 

Jazhara said, “Why don’t you join us for a drink?”

 

“Ah, you’re being kind to spread so much cheer on this cheerless night,” Toddy said. He retreated to the bar and poured himself a mug of ale, then returned and remained standing next to the table. “My thanks.” He took a long pull on his ale. Jazhara asked, “Why so cheerless?”

 

“Well, with the . . . wolves and all . . . we’ve lost several villagers already.”

 

Solon looked hard at Toddy and said, “Wolves this near the coast are unusual. They tend to stay away from populated areas. Is there no one who will hunt them?”

 

Toddy took another drink of his ale. Then he said, “Please, I’m sorry I mentioned it. It’s not your concern. Simply enjoy yourselves tonight. But I beg you not to go outside tonight.”

 

James studied the innkeeper and saw a man trying his mightiest to hide a deep fear. Changing the subject, James asked, “You mentioned some guardsmen earlier. Do you know anything else about them?”

 

“They stayed here a single night, two days ago, and then moved on.”

 

Jazhara asked, “Do you recall who led them?”

 

“A rather young officer. William, I think his name was. One of his trackers found the trail of their fugitive somewhere east of here.” He drained the last of his ale and said, “Now, please excuse me while I take care of my duties. When you’re ready to turn in, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

 

The only other customer in the inn was a man sitting by himself in the corner, staring deeply into his cup.

 

James leaned forward, so as not to be overheard by the lone drinker, and said, “Well, does anyone have any bright notions of what we should do next?”

 

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