by Bob Nailor
"Those we seek claimed to be performers for the Celebration of Chaos." The guard scrutinized the area and the three other patrons. "They are escaped prisoners."
"Trust me," Hvar said with as innocent of a smile as he could muster. "These three are not performers. Do you have any descriptions so I may recognize them if they were to show?"
"The female is a redhead, the two men I am not sure about." The guard’s words came hesitantly.
"I see," Hvar said and guided the guard away from Chardo. "My friend's daughter is a redhead and I can understand the confusion. Obviously you were misinformed about the group being together. Perhaps those you are searching have taken shelter elsewhere." Hvar stretched to his full height, legs slightly apart and hands on his hips. "I'm not the only place to sleep in Bashiwa."
"Hold your tongue, innkeeper. The woman we seek calls herself Jewyl." The guard stopped. He glared at Hvar then glanced once more around the open room. "She claims to be Jewyl, Princess of Shiyula."
"A princess?" Hvar echoed, his eyes wide in mock surprise. "In this place? Oh my. Perhaps I should tidy up a bit." He grabbed the towel and started to wipe.
"None of your sarcasm, innkeeper," the guard said. "She is to wed Lord Azre. You have a redhead staying here, and I won't be put off. Now, either you take me to her room, or I and my attachment will find her ourselves."
Hvar frowned. "Did you not say they are escaped prisoners and one is to wed the Dragon Lord? This doesn't make sense to me."
"Are you looking for me?"
The men turned and stared at the cloaked woman on the staircase.
"Are you Princess Jewyl?" the guard asked. "Remove your hood so I may see your face."
"My name is Britha. I have come here to my father's friend, Hvar and to participate in the Celebration of Hagontha." She paused and smiled. "I am not a performer, nor am I an entertainer of men. I am on a holy journey to understand the chaos of Hagontha."
"What are you doing, Britha?" Hvar whispered. His voice quivered and he didn't move as he stared at his daughter.
"You seek a red haired female?" Britha pulled red locks forward from under the woolen hood. "Am I who you seek?"
The guard pulled his sword, moved toward Britha and gazed into her eyes. "Your eyes are not green." He reached forward to pull back the hood.
Britha pulled back, holding tightly to the edges of the hood. She stared at the guard, not backing down. "My eyes are brown. Is that a problem?"
The guard bent down. "Lift the hem of the robe. Your ankles will tell me if you are truly the person I seek or not." He kept an eye on Britha for any sign of action, holding his sword at ready.
"Allow me." Britha pushed the cloak behind her shoulders, making sure the hood remained on her head, then daintily lifted the heavy hem of the skirt to reveal her ankles and a small portion of her legs. "As you can easily see, I hide no weapons, if that is what you sought."
The three guards behind the main guard stretched and leered at Britha's legs.
"The ankle is clear," the lead guard said. "There have been no irons on these lovelies." He slowly eased his cupped hand up the back of her leg, gently caressing the skin.
"Sir." Britha frowned at the guard. "If you'd please." She dropped the hem and stepped back on the small landing.
"I'd be more than pleased," the guard said and winked at her. "What is your name again?"
"Britha," she replied. "And I am betrothed, and as I stated earlier, on a holy pilgrimage." She stepped down the final three treads and away from the guard and into the protective arm of her father.
The guard sheathed his sword and turned back to his companions. "This was a fool's run." He stomped over to Chardo, grabbed a scuff of hair in his fist and lifted Chardo's head. "Bah, just a drunken lovelorn sod. Such a waste. This much sorrow over another man. I'll never understand it." He released Chardo's hair. Chardo's head hit the table with a resounding thud.
"Innkeeper," the guard called turning to Hvar. "You'd best be watching for three travelers. If they come here, inform me immediately."
"I will, sir." Hvar nodded and offered a small bow. "Immediately."
The guards stomped out of the room, their swords clanging loudly when they hit the sides of the doorway.
"What in the names of the gods were you thinking, child?" Hvar grabbed Britha's arm and turned her to face his wrath.
Britha tossed back her hood to reveal her dark chestnut hair pulled back and fastened with a bow. Locks of red were tied to the sides and fluffed to a fullness.
"Would you have preferred those oafs went upstairs?"
"No," Hvar replied. He stroked a finger down the attached locks. "Where did you find red hair? You didn't cut Jewyl's hair?"
Britha fingered the long red lock and smiled. "Let's just say the red mare's tail is not as full as it was earlier today."
Hvar stared at his daughter a few seconds before realizing what she meant. His laughter was full, true, and rumbled from deep inside Hvar’s body. She enjoyed watching him wipe the tears from his eyes. He hadn't laughed that heartily in many years — not since the death of her mother three years ago. She felt a flush of satisfaction.
Chardo moaned.
"The poor boy," Britha said while softly cupping her hand to his forehead. "That had to hurt."
"It did," Chardo replied. "Do you know how difficult it was to remain in a stupor when you're not? That bastard just about yanked my hair out! Then to let my head hit the table, I was almost knocked out cold!"
Hvar slapped Chardo on the back. "At least you are alive and free."
"Yes," Chardo replied. "That is true. Now about Vico. Tell me where has he taken residence since he is no longer here?"
Hvar stopped smiling and glared at Chardo. "In all this excitement, I'd almost forgotten how much I despise you. My son now lives in the south part of the city. Last I knew, he was at the inn called Dancing Dragons."
"Vico?" Britha exclaimed. "There?"
"She didn't know?" Chardo watched Britha step back in shock.
"Not Vico!" Britha knitted her brows in concern. "My brother would never work there. He's... he's not that way."
"He lives there, that much I know." Hvar folded his large arms before him defiantly. "Perhaps he works there. That, I don't know." He raised his hands into the air, turned away and headed for the counter. "I only know Vico no longer lives or works here."
"Hvar, trust me. I did nothing with your son." Chardo stood, weaving slightly. "I will go find him, talk to him and discover what has happened."
"It's obvious," Britha sneered. "You are what happened." She twirled, the cape flaring out in the move. She hastily crossed the room to disappear up the staircase.
CHAPTER FOUR
Plots
Jewyl awoke with a start. Was it the clamor of the inn's patrons? She took a deep breath. The scent of fresh baked bread and roasting venison made her mouth water. Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she eaten? She stretched and gathered her thoughts before moving from the too-soft litter she slept on. A lighted candle on the table caught her eye. She froze. The candle had been unlit when she had fallen asleep. Someone had entered her room. Jewyl slowly scanned the area. She was sure she'd bolted the door. She reached for the dagger under the pillow and glanced to the door. The latch was secured. Concerned even more, she once more surveyed her surroundings more closely, all the while keeping a tight grip on the dagger. On a chair next to the table was a garment, a deep green with leather accents. She was intrigued and let loose of the weapon.
Approaching the table, Jewyl saw the note by the candle, picked up the paper and read:
The dragon has spoken.
These garments should hide.
Anointment is needed
To conceal the bride.
Father H. Vaela
Jewyl knitted her eyebrows in a frown then re-read the cryptic poem. She reached down and touched the garment, it wasn't a rich fabric but a sturdy one that would wear well. Startled by movement
from the corner of her eye, she noticed the reflected image of herself moving in the mirror just beyond the table. Jewyl nervously laughed at her silliness.
Vaela? Jewyl thought. That was my grandmother's first name. Why? Who is Father H Vaela? Jewyl laid the note down. H? Father? Father H? Of course, Hvar. She again glanced at the note. "The dragon has spoken," she whispered. A dragon? I'm to hide from a dragon? Spoken? The only dragon I can think of which can talk is Lord Azre, Dragon God Incarnate. Azre? Doubtful, but it could be his men. She shrugged.
"Anointment," she muttered and picked up the small bottle near the candle. The label on it declared the contents to be "Wizard's Brown" which meant nothing to her. She opened the bottle and carefully sniffed at the contents. "Mint?" She poured a small amount onto her finger. It was a deep brown, almost black, and very viscous. Anointment, she thought. That would be something placed on the head. She rubbed the mixture between her thumb and forefinger then pulled a lock of her hair through the thick substance on her fingers. Jewyl's hair changed. It became a deep, dark chestnut, but there was still a hint of red.
She smiled in the mirror, making a crucial choice. Jewyl grabbed her knife and pulled a long lock of her hair out and cut it so it was no longer shoulder length. She finished by working the Wizard's Brown into her hair. She was no longer a long-haired red-head. A few strokes on the eyebrows and the transformation was complete. She gazed at the assorted makeup items on the table’s top. She placed a dab of redness to her cheeks and lips. She hesitated before adding the light shade of brown to her eyelids. Jewyl stared at the slightly familiar stranger in the reflection then grabbed the dress to change. The sounds from below called to her, as did the food scents. She was famished. Jewyl also wanted to question Hvar on how he was able to enter her room and still leave the latch hooked. She smiled knowing Hvar was more than what met the eye.
# # #
Jewyl stood near the top of the stairs, taking a few seconds to survey the scene below her. The evening candles cast a welcoming, soft light. The heavy oaken trestles, joists and woodwork glowed warmly in the low light, and the murmur of patrons filled the air.
"Ah, Vaela!" Hvar called as she descended the stairs. "Join us. Please." He stood up and Jewyl could see Chardo and Jopab were with him.
Other patrons took a quick notice of her and then continued on with their business.
None seemed concerned, except the hooded person sitting at the table in the shadowed corner. He was intently watching her. Jewyl couldn't actually see the person's eyes, but she could feel their embrace on her body. A shiver coursed down her back.
Chardo pulled back a chair and Jewyl joined the men at the table.
“Why the new look, Jewyl?” Chardo asked.
“Vaela!” Hvar hissed in a low growling voice.
"Vaela?" Jopab whispered. "What did you do to your hair?"
"My grandmother's name," Jewyl replied quietly. "Obviously somebody is looking for me... or at least a long-haired red-head. This shorter hair and makeup should confuse them."
"A truth within your words." Chardo nodded his head. "Jopab just arrived and hasn't been informed of today's events."
"Neither have I," Jewyl replied. "I guess this is what happens when you sleep too long."
"Britha!" Hvar motioned to his daughter. "Bring dinners for our guests." He paused. "And ales for the table."
Jewyl nonchalantly scanned the area again. The hooded stranger was not to be seen.
"He's left," Hvar whispered. "As you took your seat, he stood and left."
"Who was he?" Jewyl asked.
"He's not staying here," Hvar replied. "Although, I do believe he was here when you first arrived. Other than that, I don't know who he is, but I'm sure we should keep a watchful eye."
"Your hair! Is the garment adequate?" Britha placed the three plates on the table. "Father had me buy it for you."
The heady spices of the roast venison and mixed vegetables assailed their noses.
"Let me at it," Jopab said. He grabbed a dish and immediately started to eat. "Excellent," he mumbled between bites.
"This dress is more than adequate," Jewyl replied and slid a smoothing hand down the side of her dress to the waist. "Almost a perfect fit." She placed a hand to her hair, smiled and winked. "A small change."
"I thought you'd like the leather." Britha swelled with pride in her accomplishment. "I wasn't sure of your favorite color or style, but I hoped you'd like this one. I know I do."
Jewyl smiled at the younger girl. "This is exactly what I would have picked."
"You'd best be about your duties, girl." Hvar waved her away.
"I'll be back with drinks." Britha scurried across the room.
"Show as much attention to my table, lass," a man shouted. "And I'll please you with a shiny copper, or more."
Laughter broke out in the room. Britha's face flushed crimson.
"That is my daughter," Hvar yelled. "Share a copper if you wish, but there will be no pleasing. Understood?"
The room suddenly quieted.
Hvar stood, grabbed the butcher knife from his side where it hung and scowled at the patrons. "The whole lot of you." He turned slowly with the knife held in the air. "When she serves your table, you'd best be showing her only a coin for the meal or ale she brings you."
The room once again broke into a ruckus of laughter.
"A copper coin it is, innkeeper," a voice called out.
"One must keep these rogues under control," Hvar muttered as he sat while hooking the knife's handle to his apron. "Now, about this afternoon."
"Here are your drinks," Britha said breathlessly. The tankards clanked on the table.
Hvar looked at his daughter. "If one of these patrons is less than honorable with you, immediately let me know." He raised his voice. "This inn is a reputable place."
"Yes, father." Britha turned and hustled away.
"Jopab," Chardo began. "I think you were asleep upstairs, as was Jew- uh, Vaela."
"We had Azre's guards looking for three travelers," Hvar added. "I was attempting to put them off, yet they were insistent on searching the rooms above."
"I'd been talking with Hvar," Chardo added.
"He was a drunken sot," Hvar replied. "Can't hold his drink on an empty stomach. Still, the guards were insistent and that's when Britha came down the stairs. They wanted a redhead and Britha gave them one."
"But she's not." Jopab looked up from his plate and glanced at Britha to reassure himself he was correct.
"It was perfect," Chardo chimed in. "Britha pulled out her red locks and the guards were assured she wasn't the one who they sought." Chardo brought his hands into the air and pinched the thumbs and index fingers together to form an O. "Her plan worked even more smoothly than did mine back at Azre's."
Azre's, Jewyl thought. So distant, yet it was only this morning. So much has happened. Finally the words focused. "Plan?" Jewyl asked. "What plan? Oh, you mean the dancing girl routine? Oh, yes, that was definitely well thought out." Jewyl stifled the laughter, but her grin was more than obvious.
"Very well," Chardo said. "If my plans are so bad, exactly how did you get here?"
"Perhaps I should interject at this moment." Jopab lifted his utensil into the air. "Today I visited my friends at the temple. All should go as planned."
"Everyone making plans," Hvar said. "What is happening?"
Jopab shot a glance at Hvar then a quizzical look to Jewyl.
"He's fine, Jopab," Jewyl replied to his silent question. "He would never betray me."
"You put a lot of trust in him." Jopab nodded at Hvar. "I do not know this man."
Jewyl nonchalantly stretched and scanned the room, nothing caught her attention.
"Hvar was a friend of my father," she whispered. "It was his father who hid my grandmother and helped her escape the attack. Hvar's father wanted to stay and help, but my grandfather was adamant he help protect Vaela. Any man my grandfather would trust, I will trust. It was my life, too, he sav
ed that night. Hvar was born a year after my father. As they grew, he was always at my father's side until his death."
"Fine. Fine." Jopab lifted his hand in the air to stop Jewyl. "So Hvar was your father's servant."
"No!" Jewyl's shout silenced the room. "Hvar was never a servant. They were like brothers and my father allowed him certain liberties. He never bowed to my father."
"My apologies." Jopab nodded to Hvar. "Perhaps you can aid us in our plan."
"Britha! More drinks here," Hvar roared. He scanned his customers as they looked up at his command. "I am the proprietor, mind you, and therefore do have some rights." He laughed heartily and the room laughed with him.
"There were no strange faces in the crowd," Hvar whispered. "Everyone I saw was a person I have known for too many years. I think we are safe." He frowned. "Not even my boarders for the night have appeared."
"First, let me redistribute our jewels." Chardo placed bags on the table. "I have procured three leather bags." He gazed at Jopab and Jewyl. "One each, so we all have the ability to pay…" He paused. "Or, if the bag is lifted, not all our funds are taken." He handed a bag of jewels to each.
Jewyl slipped the strings of the leather bag about her belt, securing it.
"Now exactly what do you want us to do?" Jewyl looked to Jopab.
Jopab quickly glanced about him and then leaned in. The others at the table did likewise. He whispered. "You must kill Hagontha's Holy Father."
Hvar slammed back in his chair as if violently shoved and pressed against a stone wall. He pressed his thumbs to his lips, kissed them, locked his two hands together by the thumbs, lifting the two hands together, he fluttered the fingers into the air. "By Nauwa's wish, on the wings of a butterfly."
Jewyl and Chardo relaxed and attempted to appear casual, not revealing their true feelings as openly as Hvar had. Jewyl slowly cast an eye about the room. She felt a chill, yet nothing had changed, nobody seemed concerned about Hvar's actions.