Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the Case of the Seven Dwarves (22 page)

I walked into the canteen since it would have an outhouse cleaner than that of a roadhouse's. It was also a coach stop. There were a number of tables and a long counter. There were the peculiar patrons who always frequent such road environs. Cluttering a half dozen freestanding shelves were souvenirs and other items that appeal to travelers and waggoners.

"Key, please," I requested of the lean young woman at the counter. Her cast had a bluish sheen that mirrored her eyes. I could not place her lineage, though she would have been comely if not for her sour disposition. She gave me a surly nod while continuing her conversation with an imp, almost flinging the large brass key my way.

I continued to the back door and out to a small parking lot used for the help's horses and carts. Inside the outhouse, I suddenly felt apprehensive and nervously glanced around to see if there were any tiny green, fury lobsters with spider legs. There did not seem to be, though there were plenty of webs with dried flies among the ceiling beams. There were also the obligatory scratchings on the rough board walls that mused on life and the licentiousness of several wenches. A pipe running up the wall connected to an outside copper reservoir. It ended in a faucet for hand washing.

I hesitated at the door, remembering the last time I stepped out of a public water closet. This time there were no bug lobsters nor Reverian Assassins.

Lorenzo was in the canteen buying a clock that looked like a sequined black cat. The clock face was on the cat's stomach and a long tail acted as the pendulum. As the tail swung back and forth, so did the cat's eyes.

I handed the key back to the sales maiden who grabbed it as if I were ruining her day with my presence. She refused to make eye contact.

I said to Lorenzo with a grimace, "What are you going to do with that grotesque thing--archery target?"

"I thought I'd get it as a gift for our hostess. I've always loved them," Lorenzo answered as he held the clock at arm's length to admire the overall effect.

I rolled my eyes at the thought of Lorenzo presenting the witch with a cat clock. This was going to be better than I thought. "I'm sure it will look nice on her walls, maybe next to that Third Eon oil by Wanderbirch."

Lorenzo turned and asked the girl, "Could I have this wrapped?"

The sales maiden froze. Her eyes finally acknowledged she had customers and it was not pretty. "Wrapped?" she asked in a deathly cold retort.

"Yes, you know, something attractive, but not too overstated."

"Yah want me to wrap this?"

"Yes, please."

"Yah want me to wrap this?" she repeated in a voice loud enough to daunt a corpse. She obviously believed if she said it enough times in such a dreadful tone, Lorenzo would be cowed into taking the clock and leaving.

"Yes, that is exactly what I would like. Maybe something in a festive lavender."

Her eyes chilled even more and she took a deep breath. "Yah want me to wrap this?" The contest had caught the attention of those near the counter and they seemed to hunch down in anticipation of the expected outcome.

This time it was Lorenzo's turn to do the stare. His voice and face did not glower. He did not appear overtly angry or menacing-but his brows slightly turned in at the center and his lips lost any trace of a smile. He leaned toward the sales maiden and spoke softly into her face. It was a foreign dialect I did not recognize. She answered in a matching whisper, but with a severe expression upon her face. This went on for a minute.

The exchange finally ended. There was a collected silence as all eyes waited for the girl to erupt. Instead, she paled and backed away. Her voice quavered as she asked, "Lavender, you said?"

"Yes, that would be nice." Lorenzo had returned to a lighthearted voice.

The humbled maiden brought back the clock in a nice wrapping that even included a ribbon and bow.

Lorenzo thanked her and all eyes watched as we exited the diner.

"Just what did you say to that woman?" I asked once we were back into the sunlight. "Threaten to cut her throat?"

"Nothing so crude. I observed she was of the Sinth Highlands and the blood of the Hunters of Dawn's Edge. And yes, her current situation could seem belittling, but her kin would be shamed to see her rudeness to strangers," Lorenzo replied. "It seems she eloped with a freight driver against the laws of her clan. He deserted her and now she is too humiliated to return home. I offered to send bribes to her tribal elders and speak with them in her name."

"And she believed you, just like that--some stranger?"

Lorenzo shrugged his shoulders. "Not many speak the Sinth lingo and I knew the names of her uncles."

I abruptly stopped halfway to the cart. Lorenzo halted a few steps later. "You set that up, didn't you? Admit it. Just to impress me with your worldliness. We walk into a wagon train stop with some troubled maiden of an obscure mountain people and you know her uncles. Become real."

He shrugged again. "Actually, I didn't know all of them. Just the ones on her mother's side."

We looked at each other, neither breaking our empty expressions. Sometimes Lorenzo drives me mad. I finally sighed. "Oh, only one set of uncles. That be not so remarkable."

We began walking back to the cart though Lorenzo just had to issue one last declaration, "But then again, I did date one of her father's sisters."

I chose to ignore the comment.

The rest of the ride to Morganna's domicile was uneventful. Lorenzo kept to a slower pace up the twisting hillside for the horse's sake. Once again, it took several servants to pull back the massive bonewood doors as the bronze hinges protested like banshees. In the daylight, I noticed the two ivory door grips were carved into the likeness of bled maiden sacrifices. The priests of Dorga are such a whimsical lot.

Morgana was waiting inside the doors. Her hair was unbound and she wore a white linen gown. I thought her as comely in the simple attire as when draped in splendid silks.

She curtsied to us both, but wore a playful smile when her gaze turned to me. "And this be your friend? Master…?"

"Lorenzo, Lorenzo Spasm," he answered.

"Master Spasm, I have heard of you." It was Witch Morganna. I did not know if she just arrived or had been standing in the shadows. "Morgana, have our guests enter. Do not leave them standing on the stoop like some delivery lads."

"Please, call me Lorenzo," my friend responded as he took her hand and kissed it with a courtly flourish. "And I have heard much of you. I have been waiting for this encounter since my friend, Master Jak, asked me to accompany him. You are even more beautiful than I have heard."

Morganna's eyes widened and she pursed her lips before answering. "I did not know my appearance was a subject of banter."

"How could it not be?" Lorenzo asked and waited expectantly as if it were more than just a rhetorical query.

The witch returned his guileless look with that of mild surprise. "Of course," she finally replied in a frigid tone then turned to me. "Jak, you have been remiss in not telling me your tavern intimates routinely speak of me in a physically intimate fashion."

I scowled daggers at Lorenzo. It was one thing to be witty with a notorious witch when one is immune to magic, but I can be turned into a scum toad or vomit maggots right along with the rest of the general populace when cursed by a powerful witch. I tried not to squirm under Morganna's glare while grasping for a safe reply.

"I would not term it 'routinely.' They more often speak loathsome gossip dealing with your soul being damned for an assortment of malignant pastimes," Lorenzo offered as if in help. I was ready to kill him because I could tell he was not going to keep silent. "The other day someone said you possessed a venomous kiss that will blacken and swell a man's tongue until he strangles. I told him that I was moderately sure that wasn't true."

"Moderately sure?" she repeated. "I owe you a show of gratitude for such a stalwart defense of my reputation."

"I wouldn't go that far. I did have to admit the malignant pastimes were possibly true."

The room turned too quiet for any desertion on my part not to be heard. Even the daughter seemed stunned into silence. The witch gathered herself up and stepped to Lorenzo so she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes.

"Let us see then," she firmly spoke, "if the other rumor is true." Morganna parted her lips and slightly closed her eyes.

Lorenzo placed his hands upon Morganna's shoulders and pulled her closer before leaning his head down to give her a long and passionate kiss. The witch's daughter and I exchanged bewildered glances. Lorenzo stepped back and suddenly grasped his throat and made a horrible gurgling noise. A small cry escaped from Morgana and I moved to his side with a hand raised to grip his arm.

"Just joking," Lorenzo laughed and dropped his hands.

Morganna actually appeared amused, though now I really knew I wanted to kill him. Lorenzo slipped his arm through the witch's and they started down the hall as if old friends. Morgana and I again traded astounded looks.

"Here, madam, this is for you. Just a small token," Lorenzo said as he handed her his gift.

"Why, how sweet. You should not have," the witch answered. She was actually smiling.

"This is spooky," Morgana whispered in my ear. "My mother is weirding me out."

"If there is but one thing to say of my friend, it would be that one should never be amazed at anything when around Lorenzo," I whispered back.

We had fallen behind Lorenzo and Morganna and I realized I had taken Morgana's arm. I continued our leisurely stroll down the entrance hall and into the main anteroom, acting as casual as possible. It would ruin my blasé image of a private inquisitor if Morgana knew my hand tingled where I held hers. It seemed I could even feel her body heat as we walked side by side.

"Our paths almost crossed in Bjorkastan several years ago," Morganna was saying to Lorenzo. "You had just smuggled in the banished heir to the throne. Both of you, I heard, had disguised yourselves as traveling jugglers and usurped the Council Administrator during the St. Ferber's Fertility Eve Festival."

"You can't go wrong carrying out a conspiracy where all the guards are distracted by unclothed maidens smeared in butter and honey. Though teaching Princess Vreine to juggle was a difficult task, especially since she demanded using gutting dirks," Lorenzo conceded. "And I had hoped to meet you during the rising of the Volpian Great War Dead. How venturesome to attempt the resurrection of such a gruesome lot. "

"I should be angry with you over that incident," Morganna laughed as she tossed back her head and swept a lock of hair behind her right ear. "I lost an ample retainer over that fiasco and I blame you for the failure."

"You give me far too much credit. I could tell your heart was not in such a dark deed."

The witch gave a crooked smile and gazed at Lorenzo in speculation. "You are the first in a long span of years not to rush in giving me only the meanest virtues."

Lorenzo turned to squint at the witch. "That's not to say several of your exploits haven't been a bit on the villainous side, Morganna. I am afraid that until I get to know you better, I will be watching my back--though I'd rather be watching yours."

The witch managed a halfhearted glare. I noted she did not pull free of their mutual arm holding.

Morgana shook her head. "You were right last night; your friend is not one to be cowed. What be more remarkable is that my mother is so affable. She enjoys terrifying callers. Mother will hum happily for the rest of the day if she can send a visitor stumbling from the door blind with terror. The only reason she did not pounce upon you and Mika is that I had threatened to run away from home and become a conservative if she did."

"Conservative?"