The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (26 page)

As they approach the city of Inziala, they
see dozens of fires off to the east of town. It’s a large
caravansary with scores of wagons comprising many different
caravans. Jiron leads them to the gates of the city where the two
guards on duty give them a cursory once over as they pass
through.

From behind him, James says, “Let’s get a
room first. Then you can go to The Split Navel and find this
prostitute.” He sees Jiron nod his head.

They don’t go very far past the gate before
they come to a two story building that looks fairly well kept. A
sign depicting a man walking a road through the hills hangs outside
near the entrance. “Could be one,” Jiron says as he comes to a stop
in front. Turning back to the others he says, “Reilin, go see about
some rooms.”

Pulling up next to Jiron, Reilin comes to a
stop and dismounts. Instead of moving to the door he walks over to
James. “I need more coins,” he says. “The last place wiped me
out.”

James reaches into his pouch and removes a
handful of coins, the glint of silver and gold can be seen among
them. “Here,” he says, “this should last you for awhile.”

Taking the coins, Reilin grins and says, “I
would think so,” then pockets them before heading to the door.

While Reilin is inside acquiring
accommodations, the others wait outside. It doesn’t take long
before Miko notices someone across the street paying rather close
interest in them. Barely above a whisper, he says to Jiron,
“There’s someone across the street watching us.”

Jiron turns his head just far enough to see
the man there. Dressed in raggedy clothes, the man looks like
someone who lives in the gutter. “I wouldn’t worry too much about
him,” he says. “Probably wants a handout and is nervous about
approaching us.”

Thinking back to his times on the streets,
Miko can’t ever remember a time when he was nervous about
approaching someone for anything. Nor anyone else who lived on the
streets for that matter. “I don’t think so,” he says.

They continue to cast discreet glances to
the man until Reilin returns with the room keys. As they move to
take the horses around back, Miko glances over to where the man was
standing and finds him gone. Casting a quick glance up and down the
street, he fails to see him. Shrugging, he follows the others
around back to the stables.

This time Reilin has managed to obtain five
rooms, the last rooms at the inn as it turns out. Aleya gets her
own room of course, being the only lady and all. James and Jiron
again take a room together, Brother Willim and Miko take another.
Which leaves the last two to be divided among the rest.

No sooner has James entered and set his pack
on the floor by his bed than Jiron states his ready to go and that
he intends to take Reilin with him. “Have him arrange for meals to
be sent up before you go,” James tells him.

About to protest the delay, Jiron realizes
Reilin is the only one who can and nods. Moving from the room, he
finds Reilin where he’s bunking with Stig and Shorty. “I want to
leave soon,” he tells him, “and you’re coming with me. But before
we go you need to arrange for food to be sent up here for the
others.”

“You two going by yourselves?” asks Scar
from the doorway.

“Might be better if you had a few others,”
suggests Stig.

Looking from face to face, he can see their
desire to come with him and perhaps have an ale and some fun. “We
shouldn’t leave James here by himself,” he says.

“Oh, come on!” objects Scar. “With Brother
Willim and Miko here, not to mention Aleya, it would take an army
to take him.”

As if the stating of her name magically
summons her, Aleya appears at the door. “I’m coming too,” she
states.

“No you aren’t,” counters Jiron. “It would
look out of place and might call unwanted attention.”

“I’m not about to let you go to some brothel
by yourself,” she states.

“Don’t worry,” assures Scar, “we won’t let
him do anything he’ll regret in the morning.”

“Or that you might take offense at,” adds
Potbelly.

“Besides,” says Shorty, “not many guys bring
girls along to visit prostitutes.”

She eyes Jiron intensely. “Promise me you
won’t do anything,” she says.

He gives her a disarming smile, comes to her
and gives her a big hug. “I promise,” he whispers in her ear then
gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Alright then,” she says. “But if I find out
something happened…” she trails off, leaving his own mind to come
up with the possible consequences.

“Good,” he says. Then to Reilin, “Now go
down and have meals sent up for James and the others. Then we’ll
leave.”

“Alright!” exclaims Shorty jubilantly.

Once Reilin has left Jiron turns to the rest
of them. “This is not some pleasure excursion with drinking and
debauchery,” he insists. “We are after information and that is
all!”

“Hey, calm down,” Scar says.

“Yeah,” adds Potbelly, “we understand.”

He gives them another stern gaze then has
them go to his and James’ room to wait for Reilin’s return. Once
he’s returned and says the food will be up shortly, Jiron indicates
the pit fighters and says to James, “They want to come too.” When
he receives James’ nod that he’s okay with it, he adds, “Be back as
soon as possible.”

As he is about to leave, James says, “Don’t
make me come and save your butt this time.” Jiron pauses and
glances back with a grin, “You won’t.” He remembers the ill-fated
trip he and the others took where a tavern wench had tricked them
and wound up hog-tied in her basement. If it wasn’t for James and
Roland rescuing them, they would have been sold off to slavers.

Turning back to the door, he leads the
others out into the hallway and downstairs to the common room.
There he makes a beeline for the exit and they soon find themselves
out on the partially crowded streets. He makes a quick scan to see
which way is the quickest to the river. When he catches a glimpse
of moonlight reflected off water from down the street he
immediately heads in that direction.

Jiron keeps a brisk pace as they make their
way down the street to the river. According to the child abductor
they question about the necklace, they will find The Split Navel
down by the river. As they draw closer to the river, the density of
people on the street thins and the buildings begin to show more
signs of wear, tear, and lack of upkeep that those more toward the
center of town hadn’t. Definitely moving into the poorer quarter of
the city.

The street they’re on finally comes to an
end at a cross street running alongside the river. On the far side
of the street are shanties built almost all the way to the water’s
edge. “They don’t leave themselves much leeway for floods,” states
Scar. One of the buildings looks to actually overhang the flow of
the river.

“Not very smart that’s for sure,” offers
Stig.

Jiron brings them to a halt at the
intersection and looks up this new street first in one direction
then in another. Neither direction reveals anything that would
indicate a brothel or something similar.

“Do you think that guy lied to us?” asks
Shorty.

“Brother Willim seemed pretty confident that
he hadn’t,” Jiron says. Then to Reilin he nods over to several
young men hanging out on the corner. “Go over there and see if they
can tell us where it is.”

Reilin nods then moves over and begins
talking with the men. At one point Reilin reaches into his pocket
and pulls out a couple coins and hands them over. After that the
men are much more talkative and helpful.

The others wait and soon see him turn around
and make his way back to join them. “It’s down this way,” he says
as he points to the section of the street heading off to their
left.

“Is it a brothel then?” asks Jiron. Moving
out, the others follow right behind him.

“Not exactly,” explains Reilin. “It’s more a
tavern than a brothel. When I asked them about it, they said there
are a few girls that work there, but mostly it’s a tavern.”

“Great!” exclaims Potbelly.

“Don’t be getting any ideas,” Jiron says
with a quick glance back. “We are not getting drunk tonight.”

“Aw, come on,” Scar says. “A couple ales
won’t hurt anything.”

“I’ll skin any one of you who gets drunk,”
he says. Then he comes to a stop and turns back toward them. “Do I
make myself clear?”

“Absolutely,” affirms Shorty.

Turning back to continue down the street, he
glances at the buildings lining the sides and asks Reilin, “Which
one is it?”

“They said to look for a doorway with two
dark lanterns hanging next to it,” he replies.

Moving down the darkened street, they leave
the light coming from the hanging lantern on the street corner
behind. Jiron searches the fronts of the buildings he passes for
any sign of two lanterns, dark or otherwise.

“Be a good place for a murder,” comments
Scar. They are beginning to feel on edge.

Then, “There it is,” Jiron announces. A
rather dilapidated looking, double story structure standing on
their right has a doorway flanked by two unlit lanterns. No light
can be seen coming from any of the building’s windows and the area
is quiet as a tomb.

“That can’t be the place,” Stig says. “It
looks deserted.”

“Could be intentional,” Shorty suggests.

“We’ll find out,” Jiron says as he moves
toward the door. Pausing at the foot of the three steps leading up
to the door, he glances back and says, “Stay alert.” Indicating for
Reilin to accompany him, he turns back and takes the steps up to
the door where he knocks three times. When nothing happens he
knocks again, this time louder.

The sound of a floorboard creaking comes
through the door. “Someone’s in there,” whispers Reilin.

Jiron nods. He places his ear against the
door just as the sound of the deadbolt being pulled back comes
through to them. Then, the door opens a crack and a voice from the
dark within asks, “Yes?”

Reilin looks at Jiron who nods toward the
crack and mouths ‘Go ahead’. “We were told this is The Split
Navel,” he says.

The voice from within the darkness remains
silent for a moment then says, “I think you have the wrong
place.”

As the door begins to shut, Reilin exclaims,
“Gryll sent us!”

The door pauses and the darkness remains
quiet. “Gryll you say?” the voice asks after a moment.

“That’s right,” affirms Reilin. “He said
this was a good place to go for women.”

“How do you know Gryll?” the voice asks.

Reilin glances over to Jiron who’s beginning
to look impatient. Returning his attention back to the voice he
says, “We helped him with a job up north.”

“Indeed,” the voice says. “One minute.” Then
the door closes.

“What did he say?” Jiron asks.

Reilin relates in a quiet whisper what they
said to one another. By the time he’s done, steps can be heard
coming from within moving toward the door. This time when the door
opens, a small amount of light escapes.

“Welcome gentlemen,” a man no more than
three feet tall says as the door opens all the way. A hallway leads
twenty feet into the building where it ends at another door that’s
closed. The light is coming from a candle sitting in a wall recess
midway down on the left. There are no doors other than the ones at
either end of the hallway.

“So this is The Split Navel?” asks
Reilin.

“Yes,” replies the short man. Once all the
others have entered, the short man again closes the door and throws
the bolt. Turning, the man begins walking toward the other
door.

“Creepy,” whispers Shorty.

Scar gives him a nod in reply.

As they move down the hallway, they begin to
hear the sound of voices coming from behind the other door. A bark
of laughter followed by several curses being shouted in anger does
nothing to put them at ease. Just before they reach the door a man
cries out in pain.

Smoke billows out from beyond the door as
the short man opens it, acrid smoke that smells quite foul. As the
door opens completely, they see a fair sized room with many tables
spaced about the room. Two men are dragging the body of a man from
the table closest to the door toward a door on the far side of the
room. A telltale red streak left by the man being dragged reveals
that he must have been the one who cried out.

Jiron follows the short man into the room
and is led over to a table near the middle. The eyes of many of the
other patrons follow them as they cross over to it and take their
seats. Without a word, the short man turns and moves toward the
door through which they entered.

A lone serving woman makes her way through
the tables, and places two tankards of ale before two men at a
table against the wall. Easily in her forties or above, she has the
look of one whose life has been anything but easy. A massive woman,
her unkempt brown hair streaked with gray is tied back in a
ponytail. Her face may have been comely at one time, but now it
shows rigid lines and seems to be set in a permanent grimace.

She casts her eyes toward Jiron and the
others, takes notice that they are there, then without a hint of
acknowledgment, returns to the bar. Four more tankards are waiting
for her. Picking them up, she makes her way through the middle of
the room, past their table without a word and sets them before a
small group of men two tables away.

“Lousy service,” comments Stig.

On her way back to the bar, Scar waves her
down and with a smile asks, “How about some ale?”

She stops in her tracks and locks eyes with
him. After a moment of meeting her steely gaze, his smile gradually
disappears. “You all want ale?” she asks in a voice more a man’s
than a woman’s.