Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp Subject: [SQ/MG]: A Chat At The Inn Message-ID: <1993Feb12.185522.8599@atlantis.uucp> Date: Fri, 12 Feb 1993 18:55:22 GMT Characters Involved: Ornigan, a doorman at Karl's, Maleiu, Mistletoe, Bronwen Ornigan shook his head. He felt a bit dazed. He suddenly realized that he'd spent almost the entire evening talking to Thorn. He still couldn't figure out what it was about the man that was so charming. But there was something... The party was definitely dissipating now. He looked around for possiby suitable female companionship, but the last one was leaving on Thorn's arm. Ah, well. Then he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall. The others would probably have left long before now, and be at the Dragon's Inn already. Just to be sure, he approached the doorman. "Excuse me, my good man," he said, "would you happen to have witnessed the departures of Maleiu, Mistletoe, and Bronwen?" The doorman consulted his book. "Maleiu and Bronwen left an hour or so ago, but I don't have a record of a Mistletoe..." Ornigan smiled. "Small women, silver hair, with a large black man." The doorman's face cleared. "Ah, yes. She signed in as Hildegarde. What did you say her name was?" "Never mind, my good man," Ornigan said. "That will do as well as any. Could you summon a carriage for me? Viscount Ornigan of Maybold." "Certainly, sir," the doorman said. Ornigan peered outside, to see a carriage pull up and Thorn and his female companion get into it. Ah, well. Ornigan passed the time chatting with the doorman, and discovered that Karl hadn't been an Emissary of Generica for very long. Also, Verden, Third Merchant of Generica, had disappeared and all the clues pointed to Rameshanders. Rameshanders also appeared to be to blame for several other slayings around the city. The Guards were investigating it, but little had been accomplished so far... Then the carriage arrived. Ornigan said, "Well, my good man, thank you for your stimulating conversation. Perhaps we shall meet again in future. Oh, before I go--may I have my weapon, please?" The doorman consulted another list and then retrieved a leather whip from the room where it had been stored. "Thank you again," Ornigan said. He considered for a moment, then took one of the two gold pieces that he had taken from a pirate corpse and pressed it into the man's hand. Then, without another word, he left and stepped into his carriage. Left to himself, Ornigan's thoughts roamed eastward. He had to send a letter back to Rheanna soon and find out what had happened in Maybold since he was last there. The previous night he had woken from a dream that his father was dead and his brother Jorek was painting the hills with blood. He would also have to check out the local library and see if they had any useful works on the hill tribes. Or on his namesake, since so many others were curious about him... The carriage wheels suddenly made a much different sound, as if they were rolling on metal instead of paving-stone. "Dragon's Inn, sir," the driver said as they rolled to a stop. Ornigan got out of the carriage, gave his remaining gold piece to the driver, and stepped down on the Plaza of Glittering Steel. And he would have to find out how this bizarre thing got created. The Inn was no worse than any other of its kin in the many cities that Ornigan had passed through on his travels. But there were differences nonetheless. Through some strange geometrical fault, the Inn contained a large number of right-angle corners, almost all sunk deep into shadow, with mysterious figures sitting inscrutably. And there was a subtle sense of temporal discontinuity, which few would have sensed. People on one side of the Inn weren't talking at quite the same speed as on the other side. "Over here, nitwit!" Mistletoe yelled. She and the others were sitting at a table close to the bar. Ornigan lifted his hand in acknowledgement and weaved gracefully through the tables towards them, and sat down. He grinned at Maleiu. "Well, dark man. How have you been? I'm sorry not to have asked you earlier, but events, you know. This place looks to be a goldmine of knowledge, just waiting to be tapped. But then, you've been here longer than any of us. What do you think of Generica?" Maleiu thought for several moments, then he shrugged. "It is a city like any other. Perhaps it is more of a city than most. The Low City of Generica is a more extreme example than most cities possess, but all cities have something that resembles it to some degree. There are many adventurers here, many honourable souls, and many dishonourable souls. But those can be found anywhere. Generica is merely urbanity in its most concentrated form." Ornigan sat a moment, considering this, and then applauded. "Bravo, Maleiu! I don't know whether it's love or Generica which has affected you so, but you have become either a poet or a philosopher--I can't decide which." Maleiu smiled. "Maybe I have always been a poet and a philosopher, Ornigan, and you have merely failed to notice." Then his smile faded. "But perhaps it is neither love nor this city which has changed me as you say. Perhaps it is a knowledge of horrors beyond description." The table was silent for a minute. Maleiu's statement hung in the air, destroying the conversation which had existed before it. Mistletoe, the least comfortable with silence, was the first to break it. "Where's Angus, Bronwen?" Bronwen sighed. "He's upstairs sleeping. We got separate rooms." "Ah." Mistletoe caressed Maleiu's shoulder briefly, and the black man put his arm around her. Ornigan suddenly giggled as a thought came to him. "You know what your children would look like?" he said. "Some weird offshoot of the drow. Think of it." Mistletoe pointed silently over at a nearby table, where a drow, a grey elf, and a dwarf were playing a card game. "It seems that even drow in this place are different than elsewhere. But you're right. It's not like the thought hasn't occurred to us." With a brief glance up at Maleiu for confirmation, she said, "We're going on a quest with Radan to go rescue Shade, who was lost at sea. But after that, Maleiu and I are probably going to get married." "That's wonderful!" squealed Bronwen. "Congratulations!" She leapt up and threw hugs around both of her friends, and then one around Ornigan for good measure. "What kind of marriage?" Ornigan asked. Mistletoe shrugged. "We don't know. I never particularly cared for the ones in the grey elven style, but then I had to sit through so many of them. And I don't know if we can do one of Maleiu's people's properly. We'll probably come up with our own. But we can work that out after we get back. Which reminds me..." She turned to Bronwen. "Were you serious about breaking Remi out of jail?" "Hush!" Maleiu said, looking around. "More quietly, please. We are talking about doing something illegal, here. This Remi is the pirate captain, yes?" Bronwen nodded. "But I talked with him a lot while he was a prisoner on the Arcas. He never meant to become a pirate. His family were merchants, but he was forced to turn to piracy when they fell into disfavor with the Ydoinais King. It's mostly his first mate, that Rameshander, Vanshar, that kept him at it. Otherwise he would probably have settled down somewhere long ago." Slightly embarrassed, she subsided. "How were you planning to do it?" Ornigan asked. "Or did you have a plan?" Bronwen smiled. "Well, do you remember how you broke me out of Juhlavi's?" -- ---Alfvaen(Eagerly awaiting "October's Baby") "Clocks don't bring tomorrow--knives don't bring good news." ---Bruce Cockburn Current Album--Def Leppard:Pyromania Current Read--S.M. Stirling & Shirley Meier:Saber & Shadow