Robbed Blind

3. Dinner And A Bad Story

3

Dinner And A Bad Story

The Oarlock's taproom was more filled than normal. Small wonder, what with the trade caravan in town. Townsfolk who otherwise might have stayed home this evening came out to chat with the caravan hands, hoping for a bit of news and gossip from the outside world, or for insights into what wares the caravan master had in store for the town this time, what deals could be had. And of course, the drivers and outriders, packers and strong backs from the caravan were just glad to be in out of the cold, and looked to warm themselves, both with good food and drink and, mayhap, with a lively maiden from the town.

It made for a raucous evening.

Molli Millens, the owner, was in top form, roving the taproom floor and chatting up the clientele, making sure her barmaids were keeping everyone's tankards full and their plates brought out promptly. She wore her usual white apron atop a simple-looking dress that nevertheless had myriad colorful flowers embroidered at the neckline and cuffs, and brandished a wooden spoon that she used to chivy along any barmaid who appeared to be loafing. Gently.

Lani, Molli's daughter, held court behind the bar, along with Rolf, The Oarlock's bartender. She took time to lean across the bar to give Raedrick a peck on the cheek when they came in, and to tickle his goatee for a second, leaving him flushing slightly. But then her waiting crowd swept her away and she was back to business, after leaving them with full tankards of ale.

Julian was glad they had patched up their troubles from earlier in the winter, and not just because he was fairly certain Raedrick would fall all to pieces if she left him. No, much more important were the benefits of having the Inn owner's daughter sweet on you—she didn't charge Raedrick for his drinks, and more often than not when she was serving that privilege transferred to Julian as well.

"I told you that thing makes you look like a scruffy animal, Rae," Julian quipped. "That confirms it."

Raedrick snorted, looking askance at him for a second before chuckling, "Do you see Leminster?"

"Hard to see anything in this crowd. Molli's going to make her next two months from tonight alone."

"Looks that way." Raedrick flagged down a passing barmaid, a slip of a girl with hair nearly the same shade as the fires in the taproom's two great fireplaces, and bent forward to speak into her ear.

She nodded briskly, then pointed over to the front left area of the taproom, and sure enough in the extreme corner Julian saw Leminster's telltale yellow mop.

"Thanks," Raedrick said, and slipped her a couple pennies. Then they hefted their tankards and made their way over.

Leminster sat with his back to the corner, with Job to his right and the two newcomers on his left. The table was, conveniently enough, sized for six, so when they arrived he waved them into the empty chairs opposite himself.

"Evening," Julian said as he settled down into his seat. He turned his eyes to the new Marshalls and extended his hand to the dark-skinned man, who sat closest to him. "Julian Hinderbrook."

Leminster said, "Constables, meet Iven Marpoli," the dark-skinned man nodded and clasped hands with Julian firmly, "and Bart Tiptree." Now it was time for Mister Average to nod, though he did not offer his hand. "They just transferred to my team from the Capital." He grinned. "Glad to get away from the insanity there, they are."

Raedrick nodded politely to them and shared his name.

"I hope you don't mind," Leminster went on, "but we've ordered already. I figured a round of fried fish for everyone, eh?" He grinned widely, showing his teeth. He looked a little flushed; was he that far into his cups already? Julian recalled that the man was a drinker, but not normally given to start so early.

Not that he was in any position to judge.

He was about to voice his objection to the meal order, though; the fried fish was low on his list of favorites. But just then a duo of barmaids swept up with laden trays and began offloading plates for each of them. In seconds, every man at the table was served, and the maids flashed quick smiles before darting away. They looked a bit harried, but who could blame them, as unexpectedly large as the crowd was this night.

Julian looked down at his plate and sighed. Too late to change things.

Leminster slurped down a swallow from his tankard and laughed. "I know, right? It's a shame to dig in, it smells so good. Makes me sigh every time, too."

Julian bit back his reply and set to eating.

The meal passed pleasantly enough. The two new men were quiet at first, but after a few minutes Iven piped up with an amusing story from his time in the Capital that had all of them doubled over laughing. The ice broken, he joined the conversation more fully. And of course, Job was his usual witty self. Bart, though… Julian was sure he didn't say more than a dozen words the entire meal. Job seemed content to sit back and let everyone else talk, while he clearly made note of every word and every motion.

That one was probably damn good at his job. Dangerous to be a wanted man around him.

After a time, Leminster pushed his thoroughly emptied plate away and leaned back in his seat. Fixing his gaze on Raedrick, he suddenly chuckled. "I just realized. It was about this time last year you fellows came into the job and caught that Isenholf and his cronies." His eyes narrowed, his tone becoming teasing. "And now you've got another bandit. You planning to make this an annual occurrence?"

"I hope not," Raedrick said earnestly. "Peace and quiet suits me better."

That went for both of them, though Julian did not feel the need to say so. The less attention that came by their little valley, the better.

"Hear, hear," Leminster said, raising his tankard to accentuate his words. He took a drink and smacked his lips for a moment before continuing. "Met with your Mayor today. Had to bring him some bad news."

Julian and Raedrick exchanged glances. "Oh?" Raedrick said, cautiously.

Leminster nodded. "Like I told you before, we basically hadn't heard from you folks in five years. And now, two capital cases in a year. Made people take an interest." He ran his finger along his nose, affecting a sly look. "Money people, if you know what I mean. They realized they hadn't seen a penny in taxes for a long time, and started doing an internal audit." He shook his head ruefully. "Told the Mayor he could expect to be seeing some tax collecting types this summer, probably."

Julian laughed in spite of himself.

Iven's eyebrow rose and he gave Julian an incredulous look. "Failure to pay taxes is serious, Constable."

He nodded. "Oh, I know. It's just…" He shook his head and chuckled again.

Raedrick gave him a long-suffering look. "When we took the job, Mayor Brimly mentioned that very fact, and that he's been collecting the taxes every year, regardless, despite many people's objections."

"And boy, do they object," Julian said. "You should have seen them last fall, when it came time to pay up. I thought he was a fool to keep collecting the money in the face of that. But," he spread his hands in a "what do I know" kind of gesture, "looks like the Mayor gets the last laugh, eh?"

Leminster nodded. "He told me that this afternoon. Showed me the strongbox where he keeps the tax receipts. That will certainly make things easier when the tax men arrive."

Julian had a thought. "Say, maybe all that extra unexpected tax money could pay for our judge - "

Leminster stopped his words with a raised hand. "Not likely. No," he said, "we'll probably just have to continue working with the system we have. Seems to be functioning pretty well, though it's a shame what happened with that Isenholf fellow."

Julian looked askance at him, then traded a long look with Raedrick. He did not understand that statement either. "A shame? I'd say he got what was coming to him. Hell, the gallows was too good for - "

The suddenly grim expression on Leminster's face made him stop speaking.

"You haven't heard."

Raedrick leaned forward, his expression deadly serious. "Heard what?"

Leminster scowled, but not at anything they had done or said, from the look in his eyes. "Of course you haven't heard. How could you have." He sighed. "He escaped."

It was like being hit in the jaw by a giant wearing steel gauntlets.

"What?!"