The Alchemist's Other Apprentice
Chapter IV
In which Millie Endures some
Nasty Customers
Millie Blankenship sat on the short stool near the kitchen door of the little tavern where she worked, watching her two customers and trying to appear small and unnoticeable. There was something intimidating about the two men and it wasn’t only Millie who had noticed it. All of the other customers had left within a few minutes of the big man’s arrival. He had sat down, ordered his beer and stew and then scowled fiercely at the each of the other patrons until, one after another, they paid their bill and hurried out the door. Then the little one came in with his tight leather and black lace clothes, his feathered hat and his oiled mustache, asking for wine, “The good wine,” he had said, as if there was such a thing as good wine to be had here. Millie brought him the best there was, knowing that he wouldn’t like it and hoping that he wouldn’t blame her as if she were the owner or the wine merchant of the place. He did make a harsh face when he tasted it, as she had expected, but he didn’t preach to her about it, waving her away impatiently instead, much to her relief. Now the two of them sat murmuring to each other, leaving Millie to sit and watch in case they should call for more wine or beer.
She really should be over there listening, Millie thought. That’s what Artie would want her to do. But not like this, she reasoned to herself. Not with the place empty. If she came anywhere near them they would suspect something. It was clear from the way they leaned in as the talked, and kept glancing around the empty room, that they didn’t want to be overheard.
It was easy to listen in when the room was crowded. There was always someone needing a mug refilled and always some excuse to be puttering about serving or cleaning, but when the room was empty like this whatever those two were talking about, well, they could just keep it to themselves. Artie wouldn’t be mad anyway. He always told her just to pass on what she happened to hear, but not to take any chances. Artie was a kind person. He did like to keep informed about anything and everything that went on in the city, but she new he would never ask her to do anything dangerous, and listening in on those two just might be dangerous.
She looked at them across the room, The big one looked like he expected a full scale war to begin at any moment. It was a wonder that he could walk and sit with all of those knives and swords lashed about him. He had walked and sat though, and he had done it with an amazing grace and silence, slipping between the close benches and taking his seat without the slightest hint of clank or rattle from his numerous weapons. He made a sharp contrast to the finely dressed dandy sitting across from him. Where the little man’s garb was of white frills on slick black finery, the big man’s clothes were a dull sooty blend of flat browns and dull blacks. Big and small, bright and dull, she thought, what an odd pair.
She stood quietly, so as not to attract attention, and went behind the bar to dry the bowls and mugs she had washed earlier. It was obvious to any experienced tavern worker like herself, that the little dandy had some political or financial business that he needed taken care of, and that this huge ax-man was being commissioned to carry out the task for him. It was nothing unusual in itself, the rich were always involved in schemes that they would never soil their own hands with, and there was always some hired muscle, like this one, ready to dirty a sword for a bag of silver.
Still, she had never seen anyone quite like the big man. The usual characters were often quite large, but rarely so warlike in appearance. You might often see a long knife in a belt under their coat, or sometimes even a broadsword, but this man was different. He looked like he was headed to the front line of a battle. He seemed more like a mercenary captain than like the simple hired thugs she usually saw whispering with the rich at a corner table. She wondered if he might have something to do with the rumors of a Sarc invasion that everyone had been hearing.
“What are you looking at wench!” the man roared suddenly. Millie jumped so suddenly she dropped the mug she was polishing and it shattered on the floor at her feet. The cook stuck his bald head out of the kitchen door and, opening his mouth to curse at Millie, saw the big man’s face. He shut his mouth went back into the kitchen without a word.
Millie, gathering her wits, said, “I’m sorry sir, just trying to see if you needed more beer yet.”
The little man waved her off impatiently, dismissing her. “She’s not important,” he said to the big man. “She can’t hear anything from over there. Just be sure you get the instructions right.”
The big man poured down more beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “A thump on the head, he goes in the wagon and out of town, nobody sees, nobody knows, nothing to it,” he said.
“There is more to it,” the other man insisted. It’s extremely important that no one at all knows what has happened. You can’t hire any riffraff to help, you can’t be seen, and don’t underestimate his own resources. He has eyes like an eagle and ears like a bat, he will almost definitely know you are coming, and who knows what sort of arcane tricks he may have up those sleeves. Don’t underestimate him.”
The big man slowly put his beer mug down on the table. He reached across and firmly grasped the slender mans forearm with a motion that didn’t seem at all hurried yet was unavoidable by the other man. He looked into the smaller man’s subtly painted eyes. “And, do not underestimate me,” he said, speaking slowly with a quiet, yet deeply rumbling voice. “The job will be taken care of without incident or notice. When all of this business is finished my birthright will be mine again. I will be Lord of all of Creighton. If you try any of your sly machinations with me you will not live long enough to enjoy your new throne.” He released the other mans arm and took another long drink from his mug, draining it this time. He looked directly into the smaller mans eyes again, belched loudly, rose and went silently out the door.
Millie, trying not to watch, thought she heard low curses from the smaller man before he too stood and left the tavern. She walked to the window and could still see him walking north toward the castle and kicking at an unfortunate dog who had dared use the same sidewalk as he.
As she watched him disappear around the next corner, the kitchen door opened again and she heard the cooks shrill voice, “What are you doing with the mugs? Your going to pay for that! Do you think they give them to us free for you to throw about? This is coming out of your pay!”
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