Ulin sat a little straighter and asked, “Who else is on this committee?”
“Oh, the captain, of course,” Pease answered. “Master Aylesworthy, at least two other innkeepers and the blacksmith. Ma is, too. Lots of people in the Thieves Guild and the Fishers Guild help the committee by passing on news or standing watch on the observation posts.”
Ulin hoped that Pease was not as talkative to others. If he repeated some of this to an undercover Dark Knight, he could get half the town arrested. “Are you on the Committee?” he asked Challie.
The magistrate leaned her chair back to a comfortable angle. Her stern face relaxed. “Not officially. I did not want to get involved, but after the dragon crushed my house, I began looking at Flotsam with a different perspective. This place kind of grows on you … like a fungus. Now, I do what I can.”
The talk continued until the plates were empty and there was nothing left but a cookie or two. At last Lucy sat back and sighed. “You know what I would like now?” she asked no one in particular. “Some kefre. I’ve been around Khurs for so long, I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I haven’t,” Challie said, making a face. “That stuff tastes like old bark.”
“It is old bark,” Ulin laughed.
“Ma has a kefre pot. She keeps it for the Khurs who stop by. Do you really want some?” Pease wiped a napkin across his freckled round face and hopped to his feet. He tucked the last cookie into a pocket “for later” before looking up at Lucy. “I hope you can stay for a while. Captain Fox said you could be a big help.”
Ulin and Lucy looked at him in surprise. Challie stared at the empty fireplace.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Lucy demanded.
The kender suddenly looked flustered. He dropped his napkin, and a flush spread slowly up his face to meet his brown hair. “Oh, I don’t know … really. Just something the Captain said. He, uh, he eats downstairs some nights. You could ask him then.”
Pease abruptly scooted out of his chair and picked up a tray of dirty dishes. “I’ll just get rid of these.” He flew out the door, his topknot bobbing behind him.
Lucy rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache lurking on the edges of her skull. “The sooner we get out of this town, the better,” she grumbled.
Ulin agreed.
After a cup of kefre and a nap, Lucy felt much better. By evening she was ready to go to the common room for supper. They found Challie at a table in the busy room beside one of the few narrow windows, and they accepted her invitation to join her. The place was almost full with locals, Khur tribesmen, and a few nondescript humans whose background and livelihood were anybody’s guess. Aylesworthy stood behind the bar, pouring wine and tapping ale.
Lucy and Ulin hoped to find Lysandros there, but the innkeeper informed them the captain had left on a surveillance ride. He assured them that steps were already being taken to find the missing corpse. Lucy thanked him for the lunch and asked him to let them know when the captain appeared.
The newcomers’ arrival drew the attention of the customers and more than a few stamped and cheered for Lucy. The story of her fight with the bandits and her spell for deadly potatoes had already spread around town. To Lucy’s amusement, the tale had already grown in telling to include several draconians, a horde of bandits, and potatoes that incinerated like dragon’s fire. One Flotsam merchant was so impressed that he sent a flask of wine to her table with his compliments. Lucy smiled her most enigmatic smile and accepted the gift. It never hurt, she mused, to have an aura of mysterious power.
The trio ate their meal and watched the crowd, but when Lysandros did not return after several hours, Lucy and Challie went to bed. Ulin stayed for a while longer, nursing the same cup of wine. He stared into the flame of the lamp on his table, his mind years away in memories sharp and sad. The weaving flame reflected in his eyes, yet shadows darkened the hollows of his face. No one tried to approach him. At last, when the bar was nearly empty and the barmaid was clearing off the tables, Ulin tossed back the dregs of his wine and went to his room. He made certain Lucy’s door was locked then sought his own bed. Even then, sleep was long in coming.
The three travelers spent a lazy morning the next day. For the first time in over a month, they did not have to rise early to start fires, or feed grumbling tribesmen, or set out on another long day of travel. Pease brought another laden tray to Lucy’s room and joined his new friends to break the fast. Lucy and Challie indulged in a bath in the inn’s tiny bathhouse, then spent the rest of the morning washing their laundry with the help of Bridget Stubbletoes, the best cook in Flotsam. She was tall for a kender, nearly Challie’s height, and more serious than most. Her face and arm were disfigured from scars suffered in a fire she endured as a young girl when Malys destroyed her village. She had lost everything in that attack but her will to survive. Lucy liked her from the start.
After the midday meal Bridget and her son took the two newcomers on a brief tour of Flotsam and the city market. The sun shone hot in a clear sky and glittered off the water in the harbor as they walked through the maze of streets. A slight breeze stirred the dust but did little to lift the odors in the streets or disturb the flies that hovered over the refuse piles.
Many people were outdoors in spite of the heat, and the travelers quickly learned that the story of the fight against the bandits had spread all over Flotsam-that and the news that Lucy was Kethril’s daughter. Too many folks recognized Lucy and stopped to welcome her to Flotsam and to talk about her feat or her infamous father. Others waved and called greetings. She wasn’t sure what to make of her new celebrity status in a town like Flotsam, so she just waved and greeted people with a calm smile.
Ulin took her hand and gave a quick squeeze. “Looks like you’ve made a name for yourself,” he teased, reminding her of what she had said on the ship.
She sighed in mock seriousness. “It’s not enough. I should at least rescue a lady in distress or wipe out a troop of Dark Knights.”
He swept a hand around to include the busy streets. “Give this town of storytellers another day or two and they’ll have you doing that and more.”
Still chuckling, Lucy and Ulin followed Bridget as she led them into the marketplace. The two travelers trailed behind the kender while they went from one booth to the next buying foodstuffs for the inn. They studied the different varieties of food available: fragrant spices and herbs, stacks of dark kefre bark, bags of dried beans and grain, boxes of figs, olives, and brightly colored corn. Several farmers had brought late winter cabbage, yams, and potatoes out of storage.
They stopped to visit Akkar-bin and check on the progress of the caravan master’s business. His wares were nearly gone and had been replaced by goods he had purchased in Flotsam to sell along the road to Sanction. He agreed to take Lucy and her party back with his caravan, if they were ready to leave when he was. He refused to wait, so Ulin and Lucy could only hope the council would hurry.
After Bridget bought a box of his dried mushrooms, they bade farewell to the Khur and moved on to visit the fishmongers. Along the street closest to the wharves stood the fishers’ booths, filled with the day’s catch of shellfish, crabs, and fish unique to Blood Bay. The small boats of the town’s fishing fleet were already back from the early morning catch and had just completed their unloading. Their hawkers’ shouts filled the air over the voices of other merchants and the shoppers.
The mongers knew Bridget, and instead of rolling their eyes and guarding their wares as merchants usually did in the presence of kender, they welcomed her warmly and offered her the best of their catch. She bargained with skill and complete knowledge of her needs, and soon she had her son and Ulin laden with parcels and bags.