Page 21 of Sword of Rage
The man flew forward, his head landing in his bowl. Hot stew splattered over the front of Harley’s apron. He released her and she jumped back, shocked. Holding the man’s head down was a woman wearing pants with a cap covering most of her hair. Harley gawked.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” the woman said. She let up a bit so he could remove his face from the bowl.
He cursed, stew sliding down his forehead and cheeks.
The woman chuckled. “Not so bold now, are you?” She shoved his face against the table, pinning it there. The man reached back, grabbing onto the woman’s tunic. She elbowed him, and he released her. “You’re pathetic,” she spat. “That all you got?”
When she let go, he jumped to his feet, throwing a punch at her. She twisted, and his fist missed her face. He went for her again. She smiled and stepped to the side as his hand flew right by her. Rage twisted his features. He screamed and launched himself at her, knocking her to the floor.
Harley could have sworn she heard the woman laughing.
The innkeeper ran over, yanking them apart. “I’m tossing the two of you in the barn until someone can come sort this out. I won’t have any fighting at my establishment. This is a respectable place.” He dragged them from the tavern, not bothering to see if Harley was okay from the ordeal.
Harley removed her stew-splattered apron, about to head to the kitchen, when her skin prickled. Glancing behind her, she spotted a man sitting at a table in the corner of the room, his eyes trained on her. Two cups of ale were on his table, even though he was alone. The chair next to him was askew as if someone had been there only moments before. Had she just robbed this man of his companion?
Wanting to thank him for the woman’s help, Harley crossed the room, heading straight toward him. He tilted his head down, his face now cast in shadows. The innkeeper really needed to add a few more sconces to brighten up the place. She stopped a foot from the table. “Pardon me, but is the woman who assisted me your wife?”
“Wife?” he asked, a slight accent to the word.
She nodded, wishing he’d look up so she could see his face. “If so, please thank her for me. I’d also like to apologize for her predicament.”
The man’s pointer finger traced the rim of his cup. “If anything, you did us a favor. That was easier than I expected.” As he spoke, his accent faded away.
Harley still couldn’t believe the woman had been dressed in pants and that she’d antagonized a man. She’d never seen anything like it before.
“If you could point me in the direction of where mywifeis being held, I’d appreciate it.” He stood, his face still tilted downward, hidden by the shadows of the room, as if he knew just the right angle to make sure she didn’t get a good look at him.
Both cups were filled to the brim, though Harley got the impression the man had been sitting there for some time since she hadn’t served him.
“Your wife was taken around back to the barn. She will be held there until the watchmen arrive to escort her to prison.” Clutching the apron, she felt awful the woman was going to be arrested for helping her. “If you like, I can speak on your wife’s behalf.”
The man was about to toss a coin on the table when he paused, considering her. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” She set the apron on the table and gave the man her full attention.
He set the coin down with a softclink. “Have you worked here long?”
“No. I’ve only been here a few weeks.” He must have been able to tell she was inexperienced. The other women who worked there wore scandalous dresses and flirted with the patrons. She never did so and couldn’t feel at ease in an establishment such as this. Someone of her social standing didn’t frequent taverns.
“I’ll take you up on your offer of speaking on my wife’s behalf. Can you escort me to the barn where she’s being held?”
“I would be happy to.” She led him out of the tavern and to the narrow street out back. The barn was up ahead on the left.
“Do you think it wise to bring me through a dark, deserted alleyway?” the man asked, his voice low, matching the night. “If I wished to hurt you, no one would be nearby to help.”
Now that he’d pointed it out, yes, it seemed ill-advised to do such a thing. Realizing her err in judgement, she stopped and confronted the man, wishing she could see his face. He remained in the shadows, as if he were one himself. Goosebumps covered her skin, and she shivered, though it wasn’t cold out. “Your wife came to my aid.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I doubt she would do such a thing if her husband were of questionable character.”
A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re not a tavern worker, that much is obvious from your speech. And the woman isn’t my wife, she’s just a friend.”
She blinked, unsure what he was implying.
He took a step closer to her. “I suspect your penmanship is impeccable, you normally wear fancy dresses, and you are usually the one being served.”
She swallowed, suddenly feeling like she was ensnared in a carefully set trap. “Who are you?”
He took another step closer, invading her personal space. “You’re not from around here, are you, Harley?”
Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, away from him. How could he possibly know her name?
