Temple Hill (7 page)

“What about the Glowing Staff?” he finally suggested.

The Glowing Staff had been in business for nearly twenty years, run by an extended family of halflings. Like the Axe and Hammer, the employees there were honest and able to keep a secret. A security force of a dozen halflings armed with wooden clubs kept order in the tavern and responded quickly to any disturbances in the rooms on the upper floors of the three story building—not quite as intimidating as the dwarf warriors patrolling the Axe and Hammer’s corridors, but an effective deterrent nonetheless.

The atmosphere at the Glowing Staff was one of cheer and warmth. One thing halflings were good at was making a guest feel welcome. The food was always appetizing and plentiful, drinks were refilled often, and laughter and singing from the tavern echoed through the halls.

“I’ve heard good things about it,” Lhasha admitted. “Though I’ve never been there. They say that on most nights some of the kitchen staff bring out their lutes and flutes and provide tunes to amuse and entertain the guests.”

Corin nodded. They do.”

“All right, well check it out. I could use some music to dance my troubles away.”

The warrior made no effort to hide the disapproving

look on his face. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself,” he warned.

Lhasha acted as if she hadn’t even heard him.

Corin had wanted to rent the rooms himself—the less people who saw Lhasha checking in the better, as far as he was concerned. However, the half-elf would have none of it.

“You can’t just shut me up and hide me away like some kind of stuck-up princess,” she explained. “I always like to try and make friends with the staff when I stay someplace. They’re more likely to watch out for me if they like me.”

She did have a point, and Corin was already beginning to sense that he would win few arguments with the boisterous, headstrong young thief. He’d have to pick his battles.

“Top floor,” Corin said to the halfling innkeeper once they arrived. “One room, two keys.”

“Hold on,” Lhasha interjected quickly. “I appreciate what you did for me in the Fair, Corin. But we just met, and the unshaved look doesn’t really work for me—”

Corin cut her off. “Fm your bodyguard. I’ll stand guard while you sleep.”

“And what about you?” the half-elf had asked.

Not wishing to advertise Lhasha’s profession to all within earshot, Corin dropped his voice to a low whisper.

“Fll sleep whenever you’re … uh … out gathering inventory. We only need the one room.”

Lhasha shook her head. “No, that won’t do. I won’t sleep a wink with you hovering over my bed. It’s creepy. Besides … what if I have company? You kind of wreck the mood, Corin. If you know what I mean.”

“You wouldn’t be my first client to bring someone back to their room. On those occasions 111 stand guard outside.”

“Oh, I see …” Lhasha said sarcastically, “an armed guard outside my room. That won’t look odd. Not at all. Way to keep a low profile. The Purp—” At the last second she caught herself. “My ‘friends’ don’t know where I’m staying. The last thing we want to do is attract attention.”

During their conversation the innkeeper had studiously been trying to occupy himself with other business—scratching his curly head, checking his fingernails for dirt, idly sorting the room keys. After all, the employees of the Golden Staff had a reputation for minding their own business. But sensing the argument was escalating, he stepped in to settle the issue.

“I assure you, sir,” he said to Corin, “the lady is correct. You have no need to stand guard outside her door here. Our inn is the safest in all of Elversult. The doors are solid, the locks are sure, the windows are barred and we have guards who patrol the halls at regular intervals. Whoever her friends’ are, they won’t find the lady here.”

“There,” Lhasha said triumphantly, “it’s settled. There’s nothing to worry about. Two rooms please.”

Corin knew they were wrong. Eventually the Purple Masks would figure out that Lhasha hadn’t left the city, or gone into retirement. And when they did, barred windows, locked doors and random patrols wouldn’t keep Lhasha safe. The best way to protect a client was unrelenting vigilance backed by cold steel—the White Shield way. But Corin knew this was another argument he couldn’t win. Not right now, and she’d be safe enough for a little while. It would take some time until word of Lhasha resuming her activities reached the Purple Masks, and hopefully it would be well into the Month of the Sunsets before they managed to track her new location down.

“Two rooms,” Corin finally consented, “but make sure they’re adjacent.”

They agreed to meet downstairs in the common room that first evening, just before supper. That would give them both time to clean up and get settled, and give Corin a chance to take care of any last minute details he hadn’t been able to attend to while helping Lhasha relocate.

The pretty half-elf gave serious consideration to her choice of outfit for the evening. She needed to make a good first impression on the staff. She had to be dazzling, but not vain or conceited. A difficult trick to pull off, but she could manage.

She finally settled on a long flowing dress of shimmering violet hues, to bring out her eyes and compliment her silver-blonde hair. She glanced in the mirror, noting with satisfaction how the material shaped to her form when she stood still, and how it billowed and fluttered when she spun—a very important consideration. She planned to celebrate her new surroundings by dancing the night away to the music of the halfling minstrels for which the Glowing Staff was so famous.

Her difficulty in deciding on her wardrobe for the evening had put her a little behind schedule, and she arrived nearly fifteen minutes later than she and Corin had originally agreed on, but when every eye in the inn’s dining hall turned to watch her descend the steps leading up to the guest rooms, Lhasha knew the time had been well spent.

She paused a few steps from the floor, partly to give everyone one final look before she took her seat, and partly to see if she could spot Corin. A handsome young man stepped up from a table in the corner and took a step toward her. Only then did Lhasha recognize her hired protector.

In the hours since getting Lhasha settled, Corin had undergone a remarkable transformation. The wild, scraggly beard was gone, and his unruly, tangled hair had been shaved down to the length of a Mace cadet’s. He no longer wore his rusted armor, and his yellowish, stained shirt had been washed to a pristine white. The many small holes and rips had been skillfully mended. His trousers had been similarly washed and stitched. He still wore a belt, but the scabbard at his side was no longer shabby, and the hilt had been polished to a gleaming shine. Only the expression on his face remained unchanged: cold, dead eyes set in grim, unrelenting features.

As soon as he was close enough to speak without being overheard he whispered, “You’re making a scene. Everyone’s watching you.”

“That’s the point,” she replied. “You clean up quite well, Corin. You look like a true gentleman.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, of course. Few would mistake Corin’s broad shoulders for a pampered nobleman’s physique. Fewer still would confuse the aggressive strides with which he had crossed the floor for the gait of a wealthy man of leisure. But what harm could there be in a simple compliment?

The warrior winced at her words, obviously finding the term gentleman somewhat distasteful. Lhasha made a note to herself to avoid using it in the future.

“I found us a table in the corner. Out of the way.”

Lhasha was about to protest, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to spoil her grand entrance by appearing spoiled, or argumentative. If any of the staff got that impression, they’d never warm up to her.

She slipped her arm into the crook of Corin’s elbow on his good limb, briefly startling him. He recovered quickly, and escorted her to the table, though his manner was overly stiff and formal. That wasn’t a bad thing, Lhasha

knew. It would be obvious to anyone watching that Corin was her bodyguard, and nothing more. She didn’t want to scare off any of the many eligible looking young men already gathered in the hall.

A young serving girl came over, a halfling lass barely able to reach the center of the table even on her tiptoes.

“I love your dress, m’lady,” she blurted out to Lhasha before taking their order, seemingly embarrassed at herself for having the audacity to make such a comment.

“Really? Why, thank you,” Lhasha replied easily. She was used to such compliments. “If you want, I can give you the name of the merchant who sold me the fabric. I bet it would look wonderful on you—you’ve such a pretty face. And please, call me Lhasha.”

Corin hissed and shook his head, anxious about his charge giving out her name. Lhasha ignored him.

The teenage waitress smiled shyly from beneath her curly brown hair. “That would be wonderful, m’lady … Lhasha. My birthday’s coming, and I ever so much want a new dress for Greengrass.”

The half-elf smiled back and patted the young server’s hand. “Go see Jerril in the Fair,” she said. “His prices are a bit high, but he’s a sucker for a pretty face. You should be able to talk him down a fair bit. What’s your name, dear?”

“Tebia,” the halfling responded with a self-conscious laugh. “I’ll go see this Jerril next tenday, if father will give me some time off. Now what can I get you folks this evening? Supper? A drink?”

“We’ll just start with some wine for now, Tebia,” Lhasha said.

“Water for me,” Corin interjected.

“Are you sure, sir?” Tebia asked. “We have some of the finest ale in Elversult, if you’re not partial to wine. Brewed right in our own cellars.”

“Just water.” Corin’s voice was flat and cold, alienating.

The warm smile on the halfling’s face faltered slightly.

“Don’t mind him,” Lhasha said reassuringly. “He’s just had a long day.”

Tebia nodded and gave Lhasha a thankful grin. “Ill be back in a jiff with your drinks.”

As soon as she was gone, Corin leaned across the table to chide Lhasha in a harsh whisper. “Are you daft? You stride in her like a queen at a coronation, you chit chat with the first person you meet, and you start spreading your name around like the plague! We’re supposed to be hiding out!”

Lhasha dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Relax, Corin. If we skulk around here, giving everyone bitter looks and mistrusting glares we’ll draw more attention to ourselves than my entrance ever did.

“As for being friendly with the staff, that’s just good business. If they like us, they’ll watch out for us. Would you rather have friendly faces making up my room and preparing my meals, or a bunch of disgruntled strangers?”

The warrior didn’t answer right away.

Lhasha pressed her advantage. “Besides, you yourself said the staff here is discreet. I think you’re just overreacting.”

Lhasha doubted Corin had any valid responses to her argument, but she never got to find out for sure. At that moment Tebia returned with their drinks, setting them down on the table.

“Thank you, Tebia,” Lhasha said sincerely. “I can already smell the wine’s bouquet. It’s quite lovely.”

Corin mumbled a gruff thank you as well. Hardly the type of thing to endear him to the staff, but Lhasha chose to interpret his feeble effort as proof that Corin had assented to her opinions.

<5>

The meal was done, and the minstrels were in fine form. Lhasha, from the corner of her eye, was watching several young men who kept glancing over in her direction. They wanted to ask her to dance, she knew, but they were reluctant to approach with the grim-faced warrior perched only a few feet away.

She could feel the rhythm of the notes in her blood. At first she simply clapped her hands and tapped her feet in time to the music, laughing at the often bawdy lyrics shouted out by the fun loving, slightly inebriated crowd in the room, but the call of the music could not be denied for long.

“C’mon, Corin,” she said on a sudden impulse, leaping up from her chair and seizing her companion by the wrist. “Come dance with me.”

The warrior remained in his chair, oblivious to the tiny half-elfs efforts to pull him from his seat. “I’m on duty,” he said flatly.

Lhasha stopped tugging on his arm, realizing from his tone that he wasn’t simply being coy. Usually when a man told her he didn’t want to dance, he really meant, “Ask again and I’ll come.” But Corin obviously wasn’t interested in the playful games she was familiar with.

“Fine,” she said. “Sit here like a lump. But don’t expect me to keep you company.”

Flashing her best smile, she made her way across the room to the eager crowd of potential partners. Leading one of the lucky young men out onto the floor, the half-elf cast a glance over her shoulder at Corin. The warrior had risen from his seat and was standing beside the table. His good hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes were burning, but Lhasha noted with some disappointment that they weren’t burning with jealousy.

He was angry, she realized. Not because she was dancing with someone else, but simply because she was mingling with a crowd of strangers—all of whom were potential assassins in Corin’s paranoid eyes. She sensed her bodyguard was uncertain whether to follow her onto the floor, or simply maintain a discreet vigil over her from his post near the table. She had put him in an awkward position, and he resented it.

Lhasha couldn’t have cared less. Not while the music played with such wild abandon.

Lhasha danced for hours, only returning to the table to refresh herself with more wine. Corin never spoke during these brief interludes, he barely paid her any attention at all. But while she was spinning out on the dance floor, she felt his eyes constantly scanning the crowd around her, endlessly searching for an enemy that wasn’t there. Fortunately, none of the other patrons seemed aware of his piercing gaze.

It was near midnight when the minstrels finally stopped to take a break, eliciting loud cheers and applause as they promised to return shortly. Laughing, Lhasha excused herself from her current partner, promising to add his name to the long list of repeat candidates once the musicians resumed their infectious strumming.