From alt.pub.dragons-inn Sun Apr 9 13:19:21 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8279 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!news.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: lysettedb@aol.com (LysetteDB) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Lycandra] Chapter 1 Date: 8 Apr 1995 17:10:38 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 188 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <3m6u4e$5cg@newsbf02.news.aol.com> Reply-To: lysettedb@aol.com (LysetteDB) NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com The barkeep whistled a tune quietly to himself as he polished the wood surface before him. Another very quiet night, he thought to himself. Only a very few customers shared the fire or talked amongst themselves at the various corner tables. Perhaps the cold kept them in their homes, he thought, although he found that notion a bit unsettling. His curiosity piqued, he reached below for a pitcher and poured himself a mug of ale. He carefully examined the liquid, smelled it, and then sipped. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction. At least whatever kept the customers away had nothing to do with what was going on in his cellar. It was then the barkeep felt a sharp draft of winter air. There was a silent rush, and the lamps flickered ever so slightly. Someone must have come through the door, but whoever did was very stealthy about it. No one else in the place seemed to notice. A nearby movement caught the bartender's attention. So here was the cause of the sudden chill. He saw a figure seated at a stool at the far end of the bar. Whoever it was had not been there a moment before, and the new customer's features were obscured by a hood and cloak tightly drawn to ward off the winter chill. The garment might have been purple once, but had long since faded to a lighter hue, and bore evidence of the abuse of much travel. The barkeep didn't have to wait long to have his curiosity satisfied. His new customer cast back the hood to reveal a very pleasant surprise. He had seen women of all sorts come and go at the inn, warriors, enchantresses, thieves, whores, even the odd priestess or two. But this one, whoever she was, was more pleasing to the eye than most. It was her hair that he noticed first, as he watched her shake it out after she removed her hood. It was a bright, silvery colour that gleamed and sparkled in places as if freshly melted snowflakes reflected the light there. It curled most tightly, was very thick, and reached nearly to her waist. Her features were very sharp and well defined. High cheekbones, a strong chin, and delicate but purposeful nose. Her skin was creamy and flawless. She was neither a young woman nor an old maid but occupied the gulf between at some indeterminate point. As she removed her cloak, her dress gave the barkeep some clues as to what she might _not_ be. She wore not the robes typical of an enchantress or priestess, but a pair of practical breeches, a simple but fully covering blouse, high leather boots, and a leather vest that was tightly laced and showed her lithe figure to full flattery. Not a fighter, he thought, though she certainly looked strong enough. Her clothing covered a tall, lean, firm figure, no doubt about that. But she carried no sword, only a long dagger fixed to the back of her belt. He sighed. Not another thief, he hoped. His sigh caught her attention, and he noticed her eyes as she turned them upon him. He practically melted there and then. They were a luminescent green just around the pupil, as deep as an emerald and as bright as spring grass, and they switched to a deep-ocean blue at the edge. They were framed by brows that arched slightly at either end. Though mostly covered by her hair, what he could see of her ears suggested each tapered gradually to a point, and whatever her profession might be, he knew there was something not human about her. She smiled crookedly at him, and cast her eyes down coyly. "Your pleasure?" he heard himself whisper. If her eyes melted him, her deep, throaty voice thrilled him. "Something to warm me, if you please," came the oddly accented reply, as if speech were something she did not often do. "I suppose hot tea is out of the question?" she ventured. The barkeep shook his head. "Not at all. We serve all manner of tastes. What would you prefer?" She cast a glance at the ceiling. "So long since I have had a choice, yes?" Her voice seemed to brighten a bit, and for some reason, that pleased him. "Krasdarken?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lady, I am unfamiliar with that blend." "No matter. Something mild, yes? Not spicy nor fruity." He nodded. "I know just the thing." In a moment the woman was sipping her tea. Still transfixed, the barkeep stood by in the hope his guest would make another request or strike up a conversation. But she didn't. Instead, she continued to alternately sip her tea and stare into the bottom of the cup. "Is it," she at last began timidly as the barkeep jumped to attention, "Is it that one can find wizards or sages in this place from time to time?" The barkeep smiled as he leaned over to temper his tone to that suited to a more intimate conversation. Such topics were best discussed quietly. "Many come here claiming to be the best at such things," he said lowly, "though if they were as good as they say, they should have better things to do than eat, drink, and wench." He caught his last words. "Begging your pardon," he quickly added. After a brief pause he spoke again. "Is there some trouble you are in that you seek such help?" The woman caught his eyes in hers. She suddenly had a very hard, fierce look to her, which chilled the barkeep to his marrow. He also found that, try though he might, he could not look away. "I am forced to bear a curse beyond measure," she whispered harshly. "You know not how fortunate you are to be untroubled by such things, yes? Suffice to say I seek one whose knowledge of the arcane arts is great. Is it that those kind seek comfort here from time to time?" "Yes," the barkeep found himself stammering. He suddenly felt compelled to name names, tell tales, impart any shred of information the woman might desire, and so he would have done had not she released her gaze from him to focus once more on her cup. "More tea, if you please," her voice was softer again. He quickly complied with her request, though now anxious to turn his attention elsewhere. Still, he knew this was no woman to trifle with. "Th -- There are none about at the moment who can help you," he stuttered. "But I shall certainly keep an eye out for you. Who shall I say is asking for assistance?" Her eyes held his once more, and once more he was helpless. "Lycandra," she whispered, barely audible. "Tell them my name is Lycandra." He nodded shakily. She then smiled and he found his anxiety quickly vanished. "Is it that you have accomodation here?" He nodded again, firmly this time. "I require a room, a very private room, yes? One apart from others as much as possible, one where I can come and go... discreetly. You have such a room?" He reached down for a key and placed it on the bar. "Top of the stair," he pointed over her shoulder, "first on the left. All by itself, very private, very quiet." "Does it have a window? A window is very important." "Why, yes, overlooking the courtyard behind." "Excellent," she smiled crookedly again. She reached into a pocket of her trousers and put a few coins on the table. "This should cover expenses, yes?" The barkeep nodded once more. "I shall now rest awhile," she said wearily. "You will see I am not disturbed, yes? I shall see if you have any information for me later. With mixed emotion, the barkeep followed her with his eyes as she stood and strode across the room. He found himself both relieved and heartbroken that she was no longer seated before him. He suspected she had quite that effect on most men. ----- Lysette DuBois LysetteDB@aol.com