Brilliant Disguise

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dwalin scowled. "This is a waste of time."

"We've been here but ten minutes," Thorin told him with a scowl of his own, "so relax a bit, won't you?"

Dwalin's scowl deepened as he reached for his tankard to lift to his lips. "I see neither hide nor hair of our new friend, Jora, either."

Impatience kinked Thorin's gut, mingling with the sour burn of disappointment. He also had seen no sign of the street lad since they set foot inside Lucy's. He tried not to think about it, however, as he lifted his own tankard for a long swallow of hearty stout. It hit his stomach with a hint of warmth, a welcomed warmth, indeed, as the pub was a bit drafty and the air held the promise of snow.

"Thorin, we need—"

Thorin sat up straight. "There he is. Come."

"What?"

"Jora. Along the back wall." Thorin pushed back his chair to rise. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"Of course." Wood scraped as Dwalin shoved away from the table and Thorin winced as in his haste, Dwalin then proceeded to bump the table and sent his water goblet crashing onto its side.

Jora hung in the shadows along the back wall, waving an impatient hand toward them. Rolling his eyes as Dwalin threw his napkin over the puddle spreading across the tablecloth, Thorin said, "Just follow me when you've finished wrecking the table."

"Blasted uneven table," Dwalin grumbled, grabbing Thorin's discarded napkin as well to mop up the spilled water.

Thorin skirted the table and ignored the curious stares of the other patrons as he wove through the tables to the lad in the back of the room. "I was wondering if you'd lit out."

Jora didn't look at all fazed by Thorin's irritation. "Some of us are workin', you know. Now, do you want me to take you to him or not?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Come with me and I'll show you." Jora turned back toward the dining room, where a serving girl had joined Dwalin and Thorin was rather sure she was flirting with him instead of helping him clean up. Jora broke into his reverie. "Is your man coming or not?"

As if he'd heard them, Dwalin looked over in their direction and bobbed his head when Thorin gestured for him to join them. "He is."

The serving girl looked fairly crestfallen as Dwalin excused himself and joined them. "Sorry."

"You can come back another night and sweet talk her," Thorin told him with no little impatience. "Unless you'd rather just remain here and I'll go alone."

"Ye'll do no such thing," Dwalin growled. "Let's go."

"Quiet," Jora growled, although his voice was only just barely above a whisper. "If he hears anyone coming, I've no doubt he'll run."

"Why?"

"Because he's sneaky that way." Jora gestured for them to follow him along a dark, narrow corridor, past the kitchens, to the rear door, leading them out into the narrow alleyway behind the pub.

A hint of apprehension twisted Thorin's gut. He didn't know this boy and for all he knew, Jora was about to lead him into a trap of some sort.

A sidelong glance at Dwalin showed the same apprehension on his lieutenant's face as well, which did nothing to ease the discomfort bubbling in the pit of his belly. Without thinking, he reached down to rest his hand on the Orcrist's grips.

Thick clouds blotted out any hint of moonlight, the air cold and heavy with the scent of snow. The first flakes fell as Jora led them toward the east side of Dale, overlooking the Long Lake. The stone buildings rose three stories on either side of the alley, with shops below and flats above and as they moved further away from the center of Dale, the buildings looked more rundown and sketchy. Somehow, Thorin wasn't at all surprised Sten Asharm would be hiding down here, like a rat in a hole. He'd expect no less.