ENTRY XI

The clinging of mugs echoed through the half-lit but large reception hall of the inn. Ammon and I sat in corner nearest to the stairs that led to the sleeping quarters. We wanted a distant place far away from the doors as possible. In most cases, the group nearest to the door is always attacked first, if there is a brawl. In our case, we have an advantage over our foes. The stairs are wide enough for a sword to be swung, but not for two people to go simultaneously. Our swords are more like sabers. It would be an interesting fight.

"You sure about that?" asked the innkeeper. In his right hand he held a jug of fresh pickles.

"I am," said the young man.

"I don't know anything about that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Dear God, what if anything happened to him?"

"Don't worry."

"Maybe, you're right."

"I know I am."

"Great for you."

"I know."

"What's his problem?" I asked.

"He's strange," replied Ammon.

"There is something here."

"There is."

"What, I don't know."

"I ain't that much curious."

"You never were that type."

"Good for me."

"Yeah."

"See that man over there."

"Which one, the small one with the large head, the tall one or the one in the middle with his cup of tea? A strange lot, for sure."

"Neither of them, to be precise, they aren't important. The one with the big eagle nose and glasses, he's important."

"And why?"

"He's the chancellor of Raspira."

"What's a man like that doing here?"

"Who knows. We need to kill time someway."

"True."

"Where now?" Ammon smiled.

"To the warden," I replied.

I went towards the door. The rain was pouring.