Grayson leaned back in his chair, his boots hooked casually over the opposite seat in lieu of any company. In fact, his whole corner of the bar was rather vacant. He felt comfortable enough for that, with a huge serving of roasted meat at his elbow and a glass of wine settled down in his palm. It was a good inn, for all the reputation of the city’s quarter down by the docks.
The light was low, greasy smoke from the lanterns curling about the rafters above. In his quiet corner, the dimness and the wine were making a valiant attempt at putting Grayson to sleep. He rubbed his chin, a day or two’s growth of his beard spread there. He thought about shaving that very night- there would be precious little time in the morning- but it seemed too much effort. Besides, the next day he would be out on the sea again among men of the water, and shaved or not would matter very little.
He pulled a hunk of meat off the platter beside him, savoring the dark juices that rolled down his throat with it. Better fare than he’d had in weeks. The open waters were not conducive to fancy meals, unless one was a fan of fish. After thirteen years, Grayson wasn’t.
His boots were making small movements to get him on his feet again and to a room before he drank too much when the scream rang out. Grayson came to his feet with a cat-like grace despite the wine behind him. The innkeeper behind the counter was already scrabbling up the stairs to the second floor where the rooms were. Grayson took a quick look around and saw most men had gone back to their food or women already. He cursed and took a few quick strides towards the counter, grabbing the scribe that was tallying the night’s profits. The bartender was a big man, mostly around the middle, but if two men were to give him a problem, he’d awake with a good concussion and little else for his trouble.
“What’re you waiting for?” Grayson snapped, grabbing the small scribe by the collar and half dragging him over the counter.
The scribe yelped. “That old Bathemewl can handle ‘imself!”
Grayson tossed the man towards the stairs, coming up behind him just as quickly. “And if he doesn’t, you’re out of a job. Let’s go.”
When the two of them reached the second floor, the innkeeper was in action already. Seeing Grayson and the scribe, he paused with a fist pounding one of the room doors. “Ye here to help or to watch?”
A small, more strangled scream came from somewhere down the hall. The three of them took off down the hallway, forgetting the rest of the rooms. There must have been twenty or more along the deep hallway. Grayson cursed.
“You got more keys?” he asked. The innkeeper threw him another ring thick with them.
“Get to work.”
Together, with the scribe shivering a good ten feet away or more, they pounded the doors of each room. The ones that weren’t answered were forced open with the keys. Most were empty, but neither Grayson nor the innkeep were easily embarrassed when they weren’t. Grayson was at his fourth door, flipping through the keys for the number thirteen. He’d knocked harder on of the doors than he cared to think about, and his fist was starting to get sore. He found the key he was looking for and punched it into the lock, the tumblers rattling as they swung open for him.
As he grabbed the knob and threw it open, he nearly smacked the girl hovering near behind it. Grayson got brief glimpse of the girl: brown hair, almost light enough to be blonde with wet, full lips in a nearly transparent shift. He had to blink once to get himself away from the image when he heard the innkeeper yell.
Down the hall, the portly man had another man, a scraggly fellow by the looks of it and barley bigger than the scribe, by the ear. A whore behind him, her shift half torn off her shoulders and just held up by her huge breasts, smacked the man repeatedly with a fan. She shrieked obscenities.
“Easy, girl!” Bathemewl bellowed. “’E’s not coming in my place again.”
After a moment or two, the woman retreated to her room. The innkeeper came stumbling by Grayson with the offender still pulled up by the ear. “I hate these types,” he growled. “Ye got those keys I gave ye?”
Grayson nodded shortly, tossing the ring to him. He pulled the door behind him mostly closed.
“Good.” The man grunted, and then hit the trembling man beside him with a walloping blow. “Keep still! Hey, if ye need a place to stay tonight, consider one o’ me rooms open for a discount.”
“Thanks.”
