The town only consisted of five buildings, two of which were private homes. There was a barn with a small corral, a modest trading post and a tavern, which doubled as an inn. There were only three rooms total at the inn, and two of those were already occupied, but it was no great hardship for them to share. They were only stopping to get a bite to eat and to sleep. Once the horses were settled in, the two headed into the tavern to grab a bit of food.
Inside the main room there were five tables, a small bar and an enormous fireplace along one wall. At the moment, only a small fire was lit to drive the chill from the damp air. They took the table closest to the fire in an attempt to dry their clothes though they’d left their soggy riding cloaks in the barn with their mounts.
There were seven other people in the main room, a table of three men, apparently locals by the friendly banter they shared with Mel, the tavern owner and Rebecca, his wife. There was also a fat man and his wife, or possibly daughter at another table. The locals, who had grown quiet as the two entered, gradually relaxed, though the loud, friendly talk was for the moment reduced to whispers. At first, Gwaynn was surprised that there were no Deutzani soldiers present in the town, but then he decided that even they could not be everywhere.
“And just where are you two headed?” Rebecca asked as she placed a pot of stew on the table, which was followed by two bowls and a loaf of hard, crusted bread. She was a large middle-aged woman, though she was not particularly fat, instead she was thick, with thick ankles, thick wrists and a thick waist to go along.
Krys quickly grabbed up the spoon and began to dish out a portion of stew. He cast a sideways glance at Gwaynn but said nothing.
“Manse,” Gwaynn answered as Krys put the first bowl of stew before his friend. Rebecca raised one eyebrow and looked back at Krys, who was busy filling his own bowl. In her long life she had learned it was rare for one man to serve another, and the tall blonde young man did not have the air of a servant. In fact, both of the men, though young, had a hard look to them, and her first thought was that they were Deutzani spies, maybe soldiers, but more likely spies. She gave them a quick once over, but spotted no weapons. ‘Definitely spies and not soldiers,’ she thought, though they could have weapons hidden in the large canvas bags they kept close by. Hopefully they were just passing through; hopefully they were going to Manse. She nodded and moved away to get them some ale, casting a warning glance at the three men nearby as she went.
Gwaynn noticed her look and the changed demeanor of the three men, who now stared at them with undisguised suspicion. No one said anything however, as he and Krys began to eat as only ravenous young men can eat. They were just finishing up their second pot of stew when one of the locals walked over to them. He was a large man, much broader in the shoulders than Gwaynn, or Krys for that matter, who was still the larger of the two. The man sat down and placed his cup of ale on the table without waiting for an invitation.
“Where you from?” He asked, taking a gulp.
Gwaynn just looked at the man, but he could feel Krys bristling beside him.
“Not much business of yours,” Krys answered.
The man didn’t seem to be bothered by Krys’ terse answer. Gwaynn just continued to finish up the last of the stew in his bowl.
“Just curious,” the man retorted, a false smile planted on his face. “We like to find out as much as we can about the strangers who travel through these parts. It pays to get to know people.” He added still smiling, if you could call it that, his eyes drilling into Krys’.
Gwaynn reached out and put a hand on Krys’ wrist. The man slowly looked down at the movement and shifted his focus to Gwaynn.
“My name is Gwaynn. This is Krys,” he said with a small smile, but it was at least genuine.
The man said nothing, just continued to stare.
“And yours?” Gwaynn asked.
The man frowned, thinking. If these two were Deutzani soldiers it would not be good to give them his name, but hell they probably already had it anyway.
“Jake,” he finally answered, though he left his sir name out, just as the strangers had.
“Well Jake,” Gwaynn said, loud enough for everyone in the tavern to hear. “I’m from Solarii, and Krys here was just telling me recently that he was from Lynndon, something about herding sheep wasn’t it?” He asked in a teasing voice.
Krys grunted, and shook his head. “Nothing wrong with sheep,” he insisted.
Jake studied the two a moment, confused that neither showed even the slightest bit of discomfort by his aggressive behavior. They could be Deutzani, which would explain some of the confidence. They certainly did not have the look of sheepherders.
“Lynndon?” Jake asked. He knew something of Lynndon. His uncle lived in Lynndon. “How long you live in Lynndon?” he asked, shifting his attention back to Krys.
The man bothered Krys. He was arrogant and rude, but Krys knew Gwaynn wanted to avoid a confrontation. “Til I was about eleven,” he answered.
“Then you must know the name of the blacksmith there,” Jake challenged and the two local men at the far table tensed and moved to the edge of the seats. Much to Jake’s confusion, however, the two in front of him remained completely relaxed and impassive.
Krys’ mind was racing. True, he had grown up in Lynndon, but that was a long time ago, and he was just a child. The name of the blacksmith did not come immediately to his mind, though the man’s face instantly did.
“Large man,” Krys said, the man’s name on the tip of his tongue, “big shoulders,” he added.
“Humph, what blacksmith doesn’t have big shoulders?”
“Hang on,” Krys answered holding up a hand. “Haven’t thought about it for a while, but the name is coming to me.” He was relaxing a bit, and beginning to enjoy himself. Gwaynn just sat, waiting patiently, a slight smile still on his face. These were his people. He knew these men were only a slight danger to him and Krys, but he had no desire to tangle with anyone from Massi. He would eventually need as many men as he could get.
The two at the far table now stood in unison, and Jake was on edge, as if he was just about ready to act, his hand moving to the knife hidden at the small of his back. But again the two young men just sat there, sweet as pie, not a care in the world.
“Wake!” Krys suddenly said his voice louder because of his excitement. “His name was Wake…something.”
The two men who were standing sat slowly back down, and Jake was frowning again. “You knew Wake?”
Krys shrugged. “I was ten…I knew of him.”
Jake relaxed a little. These two could not be Deutzani, or if they were, they had a very good cover story.
“Where’d ya go after Lynndon?”
Krys glanced at Gwaynn, who shrugged his consent. “I went to the Islands,” Krys answered very amused to see Jake’s face go pale.