“You want another half-pint of fizz water, sweetie?”
I clutched Bob’s worn handle where it lay across my lap. A barmaid stepped up to my little corner, blocking my view of my targets, who’d taken up a table in the center of the room. She held a tray in one hand, and the scent of bread and beef temporarily covered the smell of wet wool. My mouth watered, but my mood soured. I might have the miniature stature and cherub face of the sweetest blond-haired, blue-eyed human child you ever did see, but I had done things, gone places. Hells, I was a graduate of the most rigorous course of study at a place most of these workaday people only spoke of in whispers.
Still, more flies with honey and all. I gave her my best butter-won’t-melt smile. “No, thank you, ma’am.”
I tilted my head to the side, trying to see around her without being obvious. It looked like they were content to sit and drink for the moment, which suited me just fine. Now that the moment had arrived, I needed to gather myself, so I walked through my plans. My goal was to get them to the hags. As I was one person, and they were four, the only way to do that would be to get them to come voluntarily. I had a story I thought would work, but I wanted to make sure their first impression of me was one of pathetic helplessness. A damsel in distress. When people thought you were pathetic and helpless, they were easy to manipulate.
Case in point, this barmaid.
“What was that?” she asked, apparently unable to hear me over the dull roar of the dinner crowd.
I pitched my voice louder. “No, thank you.” Sighing deeply, I fiddled with my empty cup in one hand. “I only had enough for one drink. I should get out of your way.” I glanced at the floor with sad eyes and pressed a hand to my stomach. I mean, I was hungry, and I only had so many coins. It was a good thing Bob didn’t have to eat.
She glanced around. “Are you here with anyone?”
“No, ma’am.”
Her brow furrowed. She was older, comfortable-sized, with gray hair and laugh lines. Probably presided over a passel of children and grandbabies. She glanced over her shoulder. “Well. A pretty little halfling from the provinces shouldn’t be wandering this big city with no one to look out for you. Here.”
She set a small loaf of bread in front of me. Victory.
I beamed at her. “Oh, thank you! But I shouldn’t.”
“No, I insist.” She paused, then took another small loaf off the tray and set it on the table next to the first. “We all need help sometimes.”
I gave her a tepid smile. “Bless your heart.”
The chains around my wrists—safely covered by the sleeves of my dress—pulsed with dark magic again. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say the hags were laughing.
She turned and danced her way through the chaos of raucous patrons. Following her movements, my eyes were drawn to a deeply drunk wolfkin woman at the table next to my motley crew of adventurers.
In fact, all the eyes in the tavern were drawn to the wolfkin, a woman with fair skin and a mass of tawny curls that ran into the light brown fur that covered most of her body. She rose from her chair, shrieking at a cowering lizard-like creature who’d apparently trodden on her foot. Well, paw. Wolfkin were half human, half wolf, and the wolf part was on the bottom. After a minute, her friends pulled her back into her chair. But she’d definitely caught the attention of my adventurers, who watched her warily.
I smiled. “Bob, I think I’ve found some distress.”
Its handle shook.
“Don’t be a chicken. This is going to work.”
I jumped from the bigfolk-sized chair to the sticky floor and slung Bob in its holster on my back, its twiggy ends poking up over my head. The room was so crowded, it wasn’t easy to pick my way between tables and weaving, drunken patrons. By the time I finally reached the hot-tempered wolfkin, I’d been stepped on and near tripped over half a dozen times. It irritated me, as I could clear a path with the flick of my wrist if I wanted, but the additional dishevelment wouldn’t hurt my distraught-damsel first impression.
Passing too close to the wolfkin, I pretended to catch my boot on the floor and trip. My shoulder slammed into her arm, and her drink slopped over the rim of her mug, splashing onto a lute she cradled in her lap like a favorite child.
“Oh my word, I am so sorry!” I snatched a cloth napkin from the table as if I meant to help. Except it was halfway underneath her bowl of stew, so when I pulled, the whole mess upended onto her shirt and over the lute. Chunks of meat fell through the strings, hitting the inside of the instrument with several muffled splats.
The woman jumped up, fair complexion going a mottled red beneath her wild tawny hair. “You little burrow rat, do you know how much this cost?”
As I’d hoped, she attacked. I just wasn’t counting on the speed and ferocity with which said attack would happen. She swung her ruined lute directly at my face. I ducked, but physicality had never been my gift. The edge of the instrument caught the side of my head, and the world exploded in pain like stars. Without much ado, I hit the ground. Hard, the broom in its holster going askew.
Palms stinging and ears ringing, I bit down on a curse that would have made my momma—at least, my best memory of my momma—throw up her hands in despair.
Forget the mission. I was going to commit murder right now.
My fingers traced an arcane symbol in a shimmering golden light that would be visible only to me. But before I could send the wolfkin and all her friends smashing into the walls, a pair of booted feet planted themselves between us, and a voice both rough and pleasant lifted above the shouts.
“Whoa, hey, I think we can all calm down.”
I looked up, head still ringing, to see the goblin boy peering over his shoulder at me. “You all right?”
“Fine.” I pushed hair from my eyes, making sure he caught a glimpse of how big and tear-filled they were. My fingers wandered over to the side of my head, and I winced when they reached a tender spot, no theatrics required. At least she hadn’t broken the skin. She would have if she’d hit me with her claws instead of the instrument.
The inn had quieted, so it was easy to hear the wolfkin when she raised the ruined lute like a club and growled. “She owes me a lute. I’m going to beat the gold out of her.”
“I don’t think there’s a need for that.” This voice was smooth and feminine, and I caught the scent of flowers and leather as Ivy, the forest elf, bent over me.
She offered her hand. I took it, and she lifted me to my feet like I weighed no more than a paper doll. She reached over my shoulder to straighten Bob with gentle hands, then turned to stand hip-to-shoulder with Ezo and rested her hands casually on the hilts of her swords.
“Ezo,” Ivy said, “we need to end this before—”
“WAIT. IS THERE A FIGHT? I’VE BEEN WANTING TO FIGHT ALL DAY!”
I near jumped out of my skin at the bellow. On the other side of the table, Firenza, the purple gargoyle woman, scraped back her chair and loosened the great axe at her side.
Talsar, the only one still seated, shook his head and dropped his face into his hands.
Ivy turned to face Firenza, smiling and lifting hands that held a surprising number of scars. “No. No, no. We’re good. You should order more ale.”
Firenza frowned. Her face was broad and attractive, and just as scarred as Ivy’s hands. She narrowed her eyes at the wolfkin. “I don’t like it when people mess with my friends.”