Where Weavers Daire

Chapter Six

Sleepless Maiden

The walk into town from the landing grid meant Thom could stretch his legs.

"You still look a little green," Wallace said.

"I'm fine. The little buggers are doing just fine," Thom wheezed and turned the corner, only to find the Sleepless Maiden & Spirits Inn on the outskirts of town was more boisterous than expected. This was due to the New Year's Eve festival going on at the center of town and probably the rest of the bars were overflowing with revelers.

The inn's porch was full of House mages in a sea of black and white robes while on the other end of the spectrum, the Stukari Holding Tier Zero Operators were decked out in desert camouflage, iron throwing weapons and the less said about the mages' four-legged Totem Animus running around chasing each other around in the dark the better.

Several Avian Animi of different shapes and wingspan hung from the rafters in the roof and ignored the antics of their wingless brothers and sisters. The second and third-floor balconies were pre-occupied with Belfry mages, sharply dressed, bald, two legged, humanoid creatures that still had their wings and tails. They were the magical half step between human mages and the old ways.

"This isn't what I meant by quietly slip away," Wallace said.

"They're not with me." Thom ignored the looks and staggered through the bar's doors.

The bar's first floor was standing room only of desert camouflage and mage cloaks.

"Half of them are private contractors to Stukari Holdings. So, half of them are with you," Thom said. "And I don't use House mages in my crew."

"My name may be on the letterhead, banners, business cards, sashes, bullets, weapons and embroidered into the hats, but it doesn't make me their lord and master," Wallace said.

Thom put two fingers into his lips and blew.

The resulting whistle brought everyone around.

"Hi, everybody. Look who's here!" Thom pointed to Wallace.

"Hi, Wally!" everyone shouted back.

"Next round is on him!" Thom said.

The boisterousness raised several decibels much to the dismay of several people who weren't decked out in the yellow and green bandanas of Stukari Holdings.

Thom and Wallace saddled up to the bar where an unfamiliar sandy blonde filled another pitcher of beer. She wasn't Thom's type, the whole busty, bar maiden stuffed into a short-sleeved, white blouse that held back her ample bosom only amplified by it being knotted at her midriff. The quill hair sticks holding up a beehive of hair meant she knew how to use them.

"The prodigal son returns." The bar maiden bowed and held out her hand.

Wallace pulled out his card. "I hate you," he said to Thom and leveled a look at the bar maiden. "And who be you and who do you serve?"

"Grainne O'Hare of the Stow and I serve no one but myself," she replied easily.

"Hello, Gladys," Thom said.

"And he gets points for remembering I hate my first name," the bar maiden said. "And for not being flat on his back. How are you even standing?"

"Oh, a messenger girl smacked me round. Anyone looking for me?" Thom said.

"Some no-good, rotten kids wandered past and went upstairs to the pool table about an hour before you showed up. Ordered the usual and overpaid me handsomely," she said.