Part 28 of Rob Donovan’s free serialised story set in the same world of Frindoth as his newly released book “Ritual of the Stones”. In this story we follow the journey of Pewtory the Lesser bard as he travels to Lilyon to witness the Ritual.
Pewtory the Lesser Bard part 28 – The Leaping Fox
Pewtory found the sign of the Leaping Fox swinging in the evening breeze. The paint had begun to peel which made the creature’s fur appear dappled as the wood underneath poked through. Kaynard Street was noticeably quieter than the one on the other side of alley. There was still a steady stream of traffic but the residents seemed slightly more refined and the shops and stalls more specialised. Men and women carried colourful shade handles of intricate design – a sign of opulence in most parts of Frindoth.
Pewtory noticed a shop with various fancy ornaments that caught his eye. They were replicars of Boscalt but with real water cascading down the clay. The water was somehow pumped up to the top of the hill only to fall again. He ventured a closer look and balked at the asking price.
It was little wonder the beggar had tried his luck in this street if the people that shopped here could afford those prices. It was also not surprising that the vagrant had been waved away by Damone Thurrock and his colleagues. Any coin given in charity would see this part of the town overrun by beggars.
He made his way to the Leaping fox and peered into the dark windows. Despite it being early evening there appeared to be little activity inside. The place looked empty save for one of two drinkers hunched over a tankard. Either the public house had exclusive membership or Master Thurrock gambled with some rather unsavoury characters. As the husband of the captain at the gate, Pewtory hoped it was the former.
Pewtory brushed the road dust from his clothes and stepped inside. A bell above the door signalled his entrance. The first thing the bard noticed was that the Leaping Fox was a lot busier than he initially thought. Apart from the seats near the window, all the tables were occupied. The bar at the back of the establishment was occupied by a line of men all heavily armed with sabres. The second thing Pewtory noticed was that every eye was on him.
He gulped as he felt the weight of those stares. Where had all the people suddenly come from? He was used to a hostile audience who were not willing to be entertained, but a hostile audience who did not care for his existence and looked like they wanted to do him harm was an entirely different prospect.
“Hmmm, it appears this tavern’s bell is in fine working order. Let’s see, clear peel as I walked through the door and one hundred percent attention from the customers. Well my work is done for the day, think I might stay for a drink.”
His quip earned the odd scoff of amusement but most of the customers ignored the bard and returned to their conversation. Pewtory breathed a sigh of relief and studied the crowd. The filthy beggar was not joking when it he said this place was rife for gambling.
Every table, counter or surface was occupied with a betting game of some sort. Cards, dice, sticks and even snails consumed the punters lusts for gambling. Men and women of all ages scooped coins to their bodies at the turn of each card or roll of a dice, whilst others groaned and cursed loudly.
Serving each table, were a host of scantily clad women who smiled lasciviously at both men and women as they searched for tips from the profiteers.
Pewtory scratched his head at the sight before him. He opened the door again and craned his neck to look through the outside window. The scene from the outside still displayed the false impression of a nearly deserted public house, nothing special and certainly not welcoming. It was quite different from the true activity that occurred within. The window had to be charmed he concluded.
“Ingenious,” he muttered to himself. Pewtory removed the pole from his shoulder and unveiled the cloth covering Willow and Wisp so they could see the window. “We will have to find out more about that illusion. It would certainly add to our performance.”
The fish swam lazily in the bowl. They gave no indication that they understood a word Pewtory was saying.
“Be like that then,” he said and swiftly covered them up, but not before Willow sent a small wave in his direction.
He ducked inside the Leaping Fox and shut the door. He winced as the bell tinkled again. As before, all eyes were upon him. It was as if the gamblers had completely forgotten that Pewtory had only stood there seconds before.
“Sorry, always have to test the bells twice. As you were.”
This time no one laughed.
“This place is for members only.”
Pewtory turned towards the female voice that spoke. In the corner a rather buxom lady sat puffing away at a smoke stick. She inhaled and the smoke curled seductively in between her brightly painted pink lips. She had brown hair that hung in rivulets down to her bosom and a tightly fitted blue dress that revealed a lot and concealed little.
She was on the cusp of being fat and rolls of skin threatened to spill out of the dress which was probably two sizes too small yet despite this there was a certain appeal to her.
“Are you the owner of this fine establishment?” Pewtory asked. He fixed her with his best smile.
“Yes and you are not a member. I am also not interested in making you one.”
“That is just as well, I have no interest in becoming one,” Pewtory saw the frown that crossed the woman’s face and swiftly added, “Oh don’t get me wrong. It would be an honour to be associated with such a fine establishment. It is just that I am here for one night only. One hour in fact. I have come here with a very specific goal and that is to test my wits against someone in particular.”
If the woman was interested in whom Pewtory referred to, she showed no sign. Instead she took a slow drag of her smoke stick and cocked her head as she studied the bard.
“I suppose that could be arranged.”
“Brilliant, sorry I did not catch your name?”
“That is because I did not give it.”
The two of them stared at each other waiting for the other to…well Pewtory was not too sure what they were waiting for. The woman eventually smiled.
“I am Madame Lowager,”
“Is that your real name?” Pewtory asked. The irony not lost on him.
“It is the name I am giving you,” Madame Lowager said.
“In that case, Madame Lowager, I thank you for your generosity,” Pewtory said and turned towards the bar.
“On one condition,” the woman said and waited for Pewtory to turn back to her. In truth, he had known there would be a stipulation there always was. Still he pretended to be confused.
“I’m sorry?”
“You may stay on one condition.”
Pewtory moved closer to the woman and detected a hint of jasmine. He was acutely aware of several eyes upon him again.
“Go on,” Pewtory said. His heart thudded against his chest.
“I did not catch your name,” Madame Lowager said as she extinguished the smoke stick against one of her palms. The stick sizzled against her flesh but the woman did not flinch.
“That is because I did not give it,” Pewtory said but did not quite pull off the level of arrogance that Madame Lowager had achieved. “Pewtory the Lesser bard,”
Madame Lowager leaned forward in her chair. Her dress fell open as she did so providing Pewtory with a sight of her cleavage that left nothing to the imagination.
“Well Pewtory the Lesser bard, you must beat me at a game of my choosing.”
“All right. That sounds fair,” Pewtory said. He could hardly say no. As a faux avid gambler, he imagined this type of scenario would be the ultimate drug.
“Ever heard of, ‘Beat the red moon?”
“No,” Pewtory said, his mouth had gone dry and he croaked out the word.
“That’s a shame, because I have never lost.”
