The Sword of Retribution

Haldorn - Part 7

     The sheriff led them past the fig tree and the fat, meditating cleric to another building from which strange, exotic music was coming. Inside, about fifty of the town’s men were sitting cross legged on the floor watching a scantily clad young woman dance to the music of a small, three piece band playing weird looking instruments. Two more scantily clad women moved among the men, offering them trays of spicy sweetmeats and glasses of amber liquid. Shaun and Matthew brightened at the sight. This was more like it! A taste of Haldornian nightlife was just what they needed after the trials of the past few weeks.

     Diana and Lirenna glanced around nervously, wondering whether women were normally allowed into places like this, and whether they wanted to stay even if they were. Although they attracted plenty of curious stares and appreciative ogling, though, there was no great outcry at their entrance, so they presumed that the women of the village also came here on occasion, perhaps to keep an firm eye on their husbands. Thomas kept close to Lirenna, just to be sure she wasn't bothered by anyone, and Shaun and Matthew walked on either side of Diana, glaring at the men who seemed a little too interested in her, and as it became clear that the women weren't available attention drifted back to the dancer, who was now doing a belly dance and seemed irritated that attention had been attracted away from her, no matter how briefly.

     They sat down cross legged on the floor and the sheriff called one of the serving girls over to serve drinks and snacks to the questers. Diana glanced dubiously at the drink she was given, until the sheriff assured her that it contained no alcohol and was merely a mixture of fruit juices, whereupon she gave it a tentative sip. Her face lit up immediately. “It’s delicious! What’s it called?”

     “Jesdana,” he replied. “It is very popular with the Lydians, and we export a great deal of it to them.”

     “I can understand why,” said the cleric, draining her glass and accepting another from the serving girl. “It’s absolutely wonderful!”

     “Now then, to business,” said the sheriff, waving the serving girl away. “There is a reward of ten thousand kundi for the capture of Ashlazzar, and another thousand for each of the men in his gang. That comes to twenty seven thousand kundi, equal to about three thousand Beltharan crowns, I believe. I will have it for you as soon as I can get word to Dalimos, say about three days. Until then, you will be our honoured guests here in Kellimentar.”

     Some of the men sitting nearby looked around with renewed interest. “Did you say Ashlazzar has been captured?” asked one excitedly.”

     “Yes, Kopol,” said the sheriff, “and seventeen of his men, captured by these people here.” He swept his arm to encompass the eight questers.

     “These people?” asked Kopol in amazement. “Six youngsters and two trogs against his whole gang? They must be mighty warriors!”

     Thomas shifted uncomfortably, not liking having to take the credit for what the slaver had done. There was no choice, though. He couldn’t very well tell them that they were travelling with a cthillian ambassador, so he just tried to grin and accept the misplaced praise as they were cheered and slapped on the back by all the men in the room. The dancer, now being completely ignored, tossed her head indignantly and swept out of the room.

     “Ashlazzar must have been furious at having been brought in by such beardless youths,” commented a man whose own beard was as thick as a bush.

     “He was,” laughed the sheriff. “He did say that they were in league with the minions of Hell, and that they did set a demon on him. A demon with skin the colour of hot coals and the trunk of an elephant.”