Book 2, Chapter 9 - Conspirators (1/2)
Chapter 9 - Conspirators
The sky had not yet darkened to night but Adder’s bar was already busy. There were borderland merchants, adventurers, heathens, believers of all sorts and more eating and drinking together. The air was choked with the smell of booze and tobacco.
A dancer twisted and swayed at one end of the common room while large men pummeled each other in the boxing ring on the other side. The whole bar was a sea of testosterone with yelling, cheering and cursing that shook the ceiling timbers.
It was certainly a rowdy place, but there were clear limits to the debauchery that was allowed.
An older man entered the bar. He was tall and lean, and a spindly goatee sprouted from his chin. His clothes were simple but surprisingly well kept. He looked like an old scholar, presentable beneath the large hat perched atop his head and covered the majority of his face.
“Sir, we have your reservation ready.”
A server approached to offer assistance. He was young and his long hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. A pair of bright eyes shone with youthful vitality.
The old man nodded, though his eyes never ceased scanning his surroundings. They stopped for just a moment when he spied Adder behind the bar. The bar owner raised his head at the same moment, and for a brief second their gaze met. Then they each looked away as though they’d seen nothing.
The young server brought the man to a private room by a window before pouring him a glass of silvery wine followed by plates of food. This sort of fare was a delicacy here, but the man with the goatee seemed disinterested.
“I will not disturb you during dinner, sir.”
The old man picked the hat off his head and placed it upon the chair beside him, allowing his flowing white hair to fall freely. He didn’t look exceptionally old but the blade of time had carved marks in his face. The valleys were vestiges of bitter times and his eyes were sharp and unwelcoming. Inside there was anger, pain, expectation, as well as morbid insanity mixed with restlessness.
Even his presence was uncomfortable. Calm as the surface of a lake, but in a caldera that could erupt at any moment.
About an hour later a tall man with a hooked, beak-like nose entered the bar. He looked around with beady eyes then slipped the server a scrap of paper with a number on it. The young man, without saying a word, led the newcomer to the indicated room.
While they traversed the common area, the bird-like man seemed to move both slow and fast. If one were to look closely his every step seemed calculated and precise. Especially as he threaded his way through the crowd he never touched a stool or one of the other patrons. Slippery as a phantom he quickly flit by, leaving no trace of his passage.
Without a question, this was a man of skill.
The young man stopped before a door and pushed it open.
When the bald man with his aquiline nose appeared before the goateed stranger his eyes glimmered with anticipation. He rose to his feet and addressed his guest with great respect. “Boss Buzzard!”
The one called Buzzard sized up the other one. “It’s been a while, old friend. You’ve aged quickly.”
“It’s the curse of humans that we should grow old. It’s nothing to fear. What we should loathe is growing old but accomplishing nothing.” He punctuated the thought with a bitter sniff then waved the young man away. “Leave us.”
The server glanced at the middle-aged man with the hooked nose, back at the man with the goatee, then bowed to each. He left and closed the door behind him, leaving the two men alone.
Buzzard sighed once they had the room to themselves. “You shouldn’t keep this up. You aren’t in the best health, come back with me. Over the last twenty-odd years you’ve contributed much. Enough. You don’t need to spend all the rest of your time and energy here, you need a life of your own.”
“Life? My life had already been ruined.” The man with the goatee shook his head. “The only desire I have left is to see Skycloud City in flames. If I can one day feel the warmth of those fires on my face then any price will be worth it. A few decades in exile would mean nothing if that was my reward.”
Suddenly Buzzard lifted a hand, entreating silence.
He rose and pushed open the door, his eyes darting left and right. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just the ponytailed server walking down the hall. He sighed.
“Relax, Buzzard. No one will eavesdrop on us here.” The older man stood as well. He understood the need for caution. “The owner of this place is more than he seems. Without his help I wouldn’t be here to collect this intelligence.”
“The bar owner? Can he be trusted?”
“It’s hard to say, but I think so. He doesn’t stand with Skycloud, they would kill him ten times over if they knew the things he’d done or the treasures he hides. It’s the same for helping me with this.”
“I trust your judgment.” Buzzard nodded. “Do you have it?”
The older man produced a black bound book from his clothes and handed it to his companion. “Everything is in here; troop counts and locations, and the names of all their captains. There are more than one thousand five hundred middle- to low-ranking officers on that list, as well as their backgrounds.”
“Hard to get one’s hands on, certainly!” Buzzard took the notebook from him as though handling a priceless treasure then began to leaf through its contents. “With this we can formulate a plan for infiltrating Skycloud. You’ve done us a great service.”
The older man’s response was forlorn. “It cost years and the lives of thirty companions to get this information. It was their noble sacrifice that built this foundation. I hope it serves its purpose, that wretched place must be razed to the ground.”
Buzzard looked through a few more pages. Although he was only scanning the entries he could tell it was both true and accurate. It must have taken years of struggle and dedication for the old man to get all this together, unfathomable sacrifice. His mission had not been an easy one.
“Don’t be stubborn. Come back with me!”
“Everyone has their own battles to fight, and I’m not backing down from the front lines ‘till this one is finished. So long as I’m needed, I’m not going anywhere. I’m sure you understand.” The old man was steadfast. “But since you’re here I do have a few young soldiers to recommend. A few good lads I’ve dug up and kept close over the years. With the right training they’ll be of excellent use to us.”
Buzzard sighed once again. He knew the old man’s temperament.
He wasn’t going to come, but his recommendations were welcomed. Buzzard trusted his friend’s judgment, and anyone he offered would be reliable.