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"No," said the Moonhound. "Half-Elves always have their human parent's stature. Maybe an
Ogre, but I find that really hard to believe. Could be he's just an exceptionally tall human."
"Maybe. I wouldn't want to be the woman who bore that baby, let me tell you," said Misty.
"No worry there. I don't think you'll be birthing too many babies, myself." The Moonhound
pressed the end of Misty's nose with a fingertip. "But he seems a friendly sort. Let's see if we
can't get him to sit with us after the fight."
Arrowsmith meanwhile sat down at his place near the counter and picked up his guitar. He didn't
notice Cora glaring at him as he continued to look towards the table. He did however notice the
group of men who came in a few minutes later. There were five of them, and they were all filthy.
They wore heavy leather outfits, worn soft in places, and they had heavy scarves for keeping the
mine dust out of their noses and collars while they worked. They seemed a jovial group, laughing
and slapping dirt off of one another.
Arrowsmith noticed the Moonhound giving them a bored glance before disregarding them,
continuing her conversation with Misty. Her demeanour suggested to him that she was a trained
warrior as opposed to a mere street fighter. There was a focused coldness about her, and he
didn t think that grey and black garb she had on was just the first thing she found on the floor
when she fell out of bed in the morning. Likewise he did not think that luminous silver blade on
her hip was just her favorite toad-poker. She carried herself like a seasoned veteran, and he
suspected that faint reek of carrion wafting off her was not simply bad perfume.
"Merc!" said one miner. "Give us a mug of that pixie piss you try to pass off as ale. We're
thirsty."
"Here you are, Barin," said Merc, pouring five mugs of ale. "So which one of you lads is going
to take on the warrior?"
"He's outside, watering his horse," said the man. "I hope he doesn't hurt her too much."
Merc snorted. "Any of you boys ever run up against a warrior of the Goddess?"
"Come on, Merc, tell us the truth. You ran with them when you were a mercenary in Two-Fifty-
Mile-House. They can't be that dangerous."
A Strange Place in Time - 37
Merc shrugged. "That's what I thought 'til one of them tore half my face off." He pointed to his
eye patch.
The men seemed unimpressed. "Well, we'll see what this girl's made of," said a third man. "But I
doubt she'll beat this boy. He's big as a house."
Arrowsmith sensed that was his cue, and slid off of his stool and stood up, roaming over to
where Merc and the miners stood. He came to stand behind Merc, looking down at the five men
before him. They had gone white, and they were just staring, mouths hanging open. Merc
grinned and cocked a thumb at Arrowsmith.
"Good," said Merc. "Maybe he'll be big enough to take on this lad."
 Bloody shitcakes! said Barin.
 John Arrowsmith, actually, said Arrowsmith.
The men were still staring when another member of the group walked into the tavern. He saw
Arrowsmith, and paused ever so slightly, then recovered his composure swiftly and walked to his
companions. He made a short, quick bow to Merc.
"Pleased to meet you, I'm Aldin. I'm the one who's going to be defeating your fighter and taking
your gold this afternoon."
The men laughed. Arrowsmith smiled as he noticed the Moonhound still speaking to Misty,
showing no interest in the blustering miner.
"Well, Aldin," said Merc, "your opponent will be with you in just a moment."
"I hope she's a good loser," said Aldin. "Well, wherever she is, we'll wait for her in the street."
The men left the tavern, the Moonhound watching them go. "Rather sure of themselves, aren't
they?" she said.
Merc was all smiles. "Yup! And it's going to be a world of fun watching you rip his guts out!"
"Hopefully it won't come to that," said Misty.
"It may have to," said the Moonhound. "I haven't eaten yet, and I'm hungry."
"I thought I saw you take after a rock skipper," said Misty as they stood up.
"The little nasty went down a hole," she said. "Besides, you ever eat one of those? Nothing but
little bones with some incidental meat wrapped around them."
A Strange Place in Time - 38
Arrowsmith followed the rest of the group out of the inn. He was more than a little interested in
this woman's fighting and eating habits. She was put together like a boa constrictor, solid muscle
from one end to the other. He didn't know if she would win or not, but he doubted she would be
real easy to defeat. He stopped on the porch next to Misty, watching the opponents take their
positions. Lysik Grey suddenly appeared at Arrowsmith's side, and she linked her arm through
his. Arrowsmith glanced down at her, then smiled.
"Hey, long time no see," he said. "What brings you out?"
She turned her bright, pretty eyes towards Arrowsmith. "I've got two taupins on this fight!"
"What? You? Sorry, but you don't strike me as a fan of blood sports."
"I'm not," said Lysik. "But I'm a priestess of the Moon Goddess, and the Moonhound is one of
the Goddess' holy warriors. I have a duty to be here."
"Does your duty include betting?"
"It all goes to the Temple, child," she said primly. She looked up at Arrowsmith, a little
concerned. "You have never seen one of her warriors in combat before, have you?"
"No," said Arrowsmith. "Why?"
"Most people throw up the first time."
 Oh yay, he said, curling his lip.
Arrowsmith watched the two square off in the street. The man she was fighting did seem to be
bigger than the norm. He also seemed just a little too sure of himself. Arrowsmith narrowed his
eyes slightly. This dirtbag had all the swagger of someone who would not think twice of using
every filthy trick he had to win what was supposed to be a friendly competition.
The little black-clad schoolteacher bounced up to Lysik, his long red hair coming loose from its
simple black wooden clip. He was without his long cloak at the moment, and Arrowsmith saw a
brooch pinned to his tunic. It was an eight-pointed star, made of some sort of white crystal. In the
belt about his waist was thrust a dagger. It was strangely made, curved much like a boomerang,
and about eighteen inches long. Another eight-pointed star was inset into the hilt. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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