Notes: Let's just have a nice day. Can we just have one nice day? Can we?
Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards Ch. 13 Pt. 1
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Chapter Thirteen, Part One
A Better Deal
Luck was with Hiram. The weather was clear now, the sky blue instead of the interminable gray it had been for the past week of drizzle or so, and the crisp autumn weather that kept threatening to descend seemed to retreat today, with sunshine and a warmth that was enough for him to shed his cloak as he and Mule ambled deeper into Garrison. Even his sniffles let up. Better than all that, though, was the way the crowd got bigger the farther into the center of the city he went. By the time he reached the main square, three times the size of Lollop’s and teeming with people, no one even thought to give him a second glance.
Gods, it was refreshing. That had been the best part of his escape from Galenish—the anonymity of it all. To go from a fearsome, even legendary figure to just another nobody was delicious. That was what his choice of Lollop was meant to ensure for him, and then… Then I went and became a bit notorious. But that was all right, it would die down. In the meantime, he could appreciate being no more than a face in the crowd.
Hiram dismounted when the traffic became too thick and found a hitching post manned by a pair of twin boys who assured him they’d look after Mule while he shopped. “Water’s free, feed’s extra,” one of them said enterprisingly as he took the reins from Hiram and expertly attached them to the post. There were two other horses tied there already, but Mule paid them no mind.
“She’s already had breakfast,” Hiram replied. “I’ll give you two extra bits when I come back to make sure she’s got a bit of space to herself, though.” Not that he expected Mule to give them any trouble, but…actually. “One moment.” He rummaged through his rucksack—he wasn’t fool enough to leave it on Mule while he shopped—and pulled out a pair of blinders. He fixed them to her long, bony face, feeling her relax a bit once he was done. Not that he expected her to see anything especially evil in a place like Garrison, but then again, he hadn’t expected the gnolls on the road, either. The last thing he needed was his unicorn to pitch a fit and impale something where everyone could see it.
“Bit fussy, then?” one of the boys asked.
“Just particular about her company, that’s all,” Hiram replied. “Thanks, lads.” He paid them half in advance, then tugged his rucksack over his shoulders and set off into the market.
His first stop was at a tea station, where he bought a cup of the sweet, spicy, milky brew that seemed ever-present in Oribel. This was spicier than what he was used to back in Lollop, and he stifled a cough into his sleeve before he took his second sip. The lady running the stall chuckled. “Bit harsh for you, sir?”
“It’s a good wakeup,” he assured her. “Just a trifle more heat than I’m used to.”
“Where do you hail from, sir?”
“Lollop.”
“Do you now!” She beamed at him. “My cousin and her husband live there, sir.”
Well, damn. “What a coincidence.”
“They run the tea stall, of course. Do a bit of foraging for some of the rarer spices we use, too.”
“Mm.” Hiram was drinking his tea down as fast as he could, more than ready to move on.
“Her last letter was full of tales about the place. There was a hullabaloo in the temple not long ago, it turns out. Were you there for it?”
He swallowed the last of his tea, gasped a bit at the persistent burn of the black pepper, and handed the cup back. “I don’t go to the Temple of Melemor often,” he said. “Have a fine day, mistress.”
“Wait, sir—your name, sir!” But he was already gone.
After that, Hiram was careful to stay a bit more reticent when it came to conversation. He made polite conversation in the stalls that attracted his notice and bargained hard but not too hard for the goods and ingredients he was interested in, but no one else got any details from him. A few enterprising thieves did try to relieve him of the contents of his outer pockets, but Phlox knew how to handle that. Static electricity was surprisingly easy to generate, and something no one could directly link to magic. The sound of people cursing their tingling fingers as he walked away brought a smile to his face.
Hiram was lucky to find an empty chair in a busy tavern on the edge of the plaza around lunchtime. He sat down with a sigh, more tired than he cared to admit. Fine, perhaps he was a little sick, a bit under the weather, but it wouldn’t interfere with his time in Garrison. When the waiter, a broad-shouldered young dwarf carrying a tray stacked with twelve pints on one hand and a rag in the other, came over and wiped the table down, Hiram contented himself with ordering the special for the day, then stared out into the crowd and watched people go by.
“Perhaps this place would have been better.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured. “But a larger city comes with a different set of problems.”
“You could more easily be of no import here.”
“But it’s too easy to make connections in a place like this.” He glanced back in the direction of the tea stall. “Case in point. No, the only way to avoid people entirely would be to venture off into the wild and set myself up as a hermit on a mountaintop or some such nonsense.”
Phlox snorted quietly. “That would drive you mad.”
“I know,” Hiram admitted. “I’m not made for solitude, I’m afraid.”
“You would have me.”
“That’s true. And you’re a good companion, but we’d tear each other to shreds in a week if we didn’t have someone else around to distract us. And Esme would riddle up company before we knew it.”
“She can’t help her nature.”
“None of us can.” They fell silent for a bit, and Hiram became distracted by a puppet show being put on down the way. It was a small little production, the theater set up on the back of a wagon. Children gathered in front of it and watched avidly as the players behind the tattered curtain acted out what looked to be a ferocious battle. One of the characters suddenly hoisted a flaming sparkler, and the monster it was squaring up against cried out piteously as the puppet thrust the sparkler into its scaly chest.
“Is that…”
The Princess and the Dragon. It was a puppet version of Misha’s famous proving quest, the ridiculously old-fashioned rigamarole that Andy had insisted she participate in despite the fact that she was his only child and heir. Hiram had argued against it, but Andy had insisted. After all, “I did it myself,” he’d said after one particularly vociferous exchange, a look of tenderness coming across his face. “And I found you, remember?”
Hiram had backed down, but made sure to give Misha a weapon worthy of the opponent her father had sent her after. The dragon had been menacing the foothills of the Elasgus Mountains for months, eating up entire flocks of sheep and several shepherds as well. Various bands of heroes had tried to handle it with no success; the beast was too clever and knew how to evade people of power, vanishing into a series of tunnels that dated back to when the Elasgus Mountains had flowed with fire.
Misha had taken her father’s command with equanimity, and even tried to refuse the flaming sword Hiram had made for her. “It wouldn’t be fair,” she tried to say. “I’m—”
“Your father had boots of speed, a helm of invisibility, and arrows of true flying on his proving quest,” Hiram had replied flatly. “This is the absolute minimum I’ll accept if you won’t let me come with you.”
“I can’t,” she’d said regretfully, and accepted the sword along with a kiss and hug. She’d gone off to do her duty and she’d done it well, returning in triumph. Only Hiram knew how she’d sought him out later, tears streaming down her thin cheeks as she’d cried for the dragon she’d killed, blind and starving but still so clever, a font of ancient knowledge it had tried to bargain with in exchange for its life.
Hiram watched the celebration of the dragon’s death play out and swallowed against the lump in his throat. Misha…he tried not to think about her, because if he let himself do that for too long his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He hoped she was all right. He hoped he’d drawn enough of her father’s ire that she was well and truly safe. His darling girl…
“Your food, sir.”
He blinked and turned back to the dwarf, who was setting a plate and tankard down on the little table. “Thank you.” Hiram ate mechanically, pausing to wipe his nose with his handkerchief every now and then, and by the time he was done he was ready to move on once more. He paid up and headed back into the crowd, this time looking for Lancre silk.
None of the stalls in the plaza were going to carry something so specific and rare. However, a few pointed questions led Hiram to a shop two streets away, run by a woman who’d clearly been a rogue in her early days if the quickness of her hands and the multiple, very sharp pairs of scissors attached to her person were any indicator.
“Black Lancre silk?” She stroked a hand over the shaved side of her head as she considered it. “I’ve got a few lengths of it, but it’s dear. The purple is much easier to come by.”
“I’m afraid it has to be black,” Hiram said. “One bolt should be sufficient.”
“Hmm.” She looked him up and down. “Planning an infiltration, are we?”
“Merely doing a favor for an acquaintance,” he replied blandly. To her credit, she didn’t press, just pulled out a few lengths of silk for him to inspect before charging him an eye-watering amount of money for a bolt of the darkest shade. Hopefully Master Spindlestep was good for it, because otherwise Hiram would have to put on quite the show over what he could and couldn’t afford, and that would be tedious.
“Can you recommend a decent inn for the night?” Hiram asked once their transaction was done. “Somewhere near the city center, but not likely to be too crowded.”
She nodded briskly. “You want The Raring Rooster. The owner’s wife breeds rare chickens, which means it’s the loudest place for five blocks in the morning, but the prices are good and there’s always rooms available.”
Hiram smiled. “That sounds perfect.” She directed him to a spot on the other side of the plaza, and Hiram set out ready to settle into a room for the rest of the afternoon and nap and recover.
Naturally, it didn’t work out that way.
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