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.Is that clear?""Yes, Warchief."TenStrov had been sitting in a dark corner of the Demonsbane Inn and Tavern for an hour when his brother Manuel walked in with four of his fellow dockworkers.At Colonel Lorena's direction, Strov had spoken with his brother about the Burning Blade.Manuel said he hadn't seen the person who tried to recruit him since that first time, but the last few times he'd gone to the Demonsbane, he'd overheard a weaselly little fisherman named Margoz mutter to himself about the Burning Blade, usually after consuming several corn whiskeys.Strov had been hoping for the original recruiter Manuel had told him of weeks earlier, but Manuel insisted that the man hadn't appeared at the Demonsbane since.Manuel had never been any good at describing people; the best he could do regarding Margoz was "weaselly," and that word described half the Demonsbane's patronage.But Manuel insisted that he could find the man again if he saw him, and said he would come to the Demonsbane after his shift on the docks was done.Strov arrived early, taking a seat in the corner, wanting to blend into the background of the tavern and people—watch.After a few hours, he decided that he had no desire to ever patronize this establishment again.The table was filthy, and the stool he sat on was uneven and rocked on the unswept floor.He got his first drink—a watery ale—at the bar, and no attempt had been made to refill it.It amazed Strov that the owner could stay in business.On top of that, Strov found the demon skull behind the bar to be incredibly disturbing.It was as if the thing were staring right at him the entire time.Although, thinking on it, he could see how the presence of that skull looming over everyone in the tavern would drive people to drink more, so he supposed that, at least, was a sound business decision.Manuel came in with a bunch of men who, like him, were burly and loud and wearing only sleeveless shirts and loose cotton pants.Strov's brother earned his daily bread loading and unloading ships docked in Theramore, and then spent most of it either at dice or in this tavern.It was work that challenged only the body, not the mind, which was why it had held no interest for Strov, but held plenty for the much less imaginative Manuel.Strov's older brother wasn't one to think overmuch on things.Even the soldier's training Strov had received when he enlisted would have been too taxing for him.He preferred the simplicity of being told to take a box from one place and put it in another place.Anything more than that—like the intricacies of fighting with a sword—gave him a headache.As the dockworkers made their way inside the bar, Manuel said, "Find a table, fellas, I'll be orderin' the drinks.""First round on you?" one of his coworkers asked with a grin."You wish—we'll divvy up later." Manuel laughed and walked up to the bar.Strov noted that his brother didn't move in a straight line to the bar, but instead took an odd angle so he had to squeeze in between two other people in order to stand at the bar."Evenin', Erik," he said to the barkeep.The barkeep just nodded."Two ales, one corn whiskey, one wine, and a boar's grog."Strov smiled.Manuel always had a weakness for boar's grog, which was of course the most expensive item in the tavern.This was one of several reasons why he still lived with their parents while Strov had his own place."The usual," Erik said."Comin' up."As Erik went to put the order together, Manuel turned to look at the man seated next to him.He'd arrived after Strov did, but was already on his third corn whiskey."Hey," Manuel said, "you're Margoz, right?"The man just looked up and stared blankly at Manuel."You're with them Burning Blade folk, right? Had a fella in here awhile back, was lookin' for recruits.You're with 'em, yeah?""Dunno what you're talking about." Margoz's words were sufficiently slurred that his consonants barely qualified as such." 'Scuse me."Margoz then got off his stool, stumbled to the floor, got up while refusing assistance from Manuel, and then walked very slowly and unsteadily toward the door.A moment later, after Manuel gave him a look and a nod, Strov abandoned his long—empty mug and also exited onto the streets of Theramore.The cobblestone streets that formed a lattice amid the buildings of Theramore were designed to provide reinforced ground for people, mounts, and wheeled conveyances to travel without risking getting mired in the swampy ground the city had been built on.Most people walked on them rather than the muck and grass on either side, which meant the thoroughfares were so crowded that Strov could follow Margoz without fear of being noticed.After Margoz bumped into four different people, two of whom actively tried to avoid him, Strov realized that they could have been alone on the street for all it mattered.Margoz was so drunk he wouldn't have noticed a dragon following him down the street.Still, Strov refused to let his training go to waste, so he kept a good distance behind and rarely looked right at the target, though he kept him in his peripheral vision.They soon arrived at a small adobe structure near the docks [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]