Were this lot taking the piss? I expected to walk in, maybe catch the eye of one or two local patrons. Perhaps give a nod to anyone who looked like a hard bastard and get to renting a room, drinking and eating. Not necessarily in that order. Instead, around thirty people at different tables applauded, and one man at the back put his fingers in his mouth and blew a sharp whistle. The barkeep, a man in a white and black costume with a matching hat with five peaks and bells hanging off them, jingled as he bounced on his feet and applauded.

  They were cracked. Or as Peevan would say if he’d met someone not quite sane, their meat had slid off their bread. I can anticipate how most fighters might take me and can move bloody fast if I need to dodge something like that bloody Lindwyrm from way back. But despite my prowess, I hadn’t a bloody clue how to react to these people. So I just stood there, like an idiot.

  Gertha hadn’t fared much better, instead looking at me. I don’t know if she expected me to leave the tavern or tell everyone to fuck off, but Sayo and Sila stepped forward and took a deep bow. The applause got louder, and so I followed suit, then Gertha.

  Sayo turned to me with a smirk, “Act like you belong, never fails.”

  “Usually,” Sila added, grinning widely.

  After a cheer from behind the bar, the applause died down, and the patrons returned to their drinks, food and what I assumed to be their strange conversations. We hadn’t been in Cemfyllen for very long, but it was clear they were all at least unhinged. After our grand entrance, we could step into the main room, which was entirely wooden panelled, apart from the floorboards. Weaving between the circular tables, I found myself apologising as people had to move their chairs in to allow us all to pass. We made our way to the bar itself on the right, where the barkeep in black and white stood, leaning forward with a bright grin as the bells on his hat jingled continuously. He was trembling on his right side, and I realised that he must be bouncing his foot up and down.

  “It is my utter pleasure to welcome your troupe to the Mummer’s Stage, our humble establishment, the home from home for our patrons old and new! I’m Kizran, at your service.” He bowed, causing his bells to jingle even more. I found myself smirking despite myself, and I saw the others smiling too, even Gertha. He had a lilt to his voice, which was fairly common for Cemfyllians if the couple I’d met in days gone by was anything to go by.

  “Cheers, Kizran, we’re looking for food, ale and a place to rest our heads, that something you can help us with?” I said, I bowed my head slightly while giving my most winning smile. It paid to be polite to the people who handled your food, drink, or bed. If they dealt with all three, well, they were as good as any friend as far as I was concerned, so long as they didn’t try to mess with me.

  “Why, most certainly! I have enough rooms for each of you, or if some of you are sharing, we have some very lovely couple's rooms. Very…romantic.” He beamed a bright smile at Sayo and Sila in particular.

  “Umm. My sister and I will probably have our own.” Sila said as Sayo drummed her fingers on the sides.

  “Of course, of course, well, four rooms will be half a gram of Gold or metal equivalent. Food and your first round of ales are an eighth.” Kizran pulled a small set of scales from underneath the bar, and my heart sank. I didn’t have any gold on me, Avandun did their prices based on minted coins of all kinds of metals, and weighing hadn’t been done in decades on our side of the trees. It was my turn to look at Gertha for some guidance, but fortunately, she had the pouch of gold pieces we’d been given by the Arcuzane. She put a practised hand into the pouch, dropping a selection onto the scales, and I was impressed when it landed on the exact amount on her first try.

  Kizran was clearly impressed as he clapped his hands together with a laugh.

  “Ooh, very good, you have a deft hand, madam! I’ll have the rooms finished off, why don’t you all take a seat and please. While you drink and dine here, all we ask is that you greet everybody who crosses our threshold with the same exuberance you received.” He bowed, jingling his hat once more.

  “Why's that then?” Gertha asked.

  Kizran laughed, “No reason really, but it’s tremendous fun!”

  Each of us chuckled at that. I surprised myself as it wasn’t particularly funny to me. But we were in a tavern named for the Mummer, and I’m sure he had a hand or two at work here.

  At Kizran’s urging, we took a table near the bar with six seats and settled into our chairs. The wood was polished smooth from years of use, and the table itself was fortunately free of the stickiness most taverns I’d been in were known for. Our host brought four mugs of ale over, balanced on a tray on one hand, and with flicks of his wrist, four squares of thick leather, stitched around the edges, landed in front of each of us. With a plonk, each mug of ale was placed on a square of leather, and he bowed his head.

  “Enjoy! This is a Cemfyllian bitter served in the King’s guardhouses themselves!” He turned to leave, but I gestured to an empty chair.

  “Share one with us, Kizran? It’d be good to know what’s what, and nobody knows more than proprietors like yourself.” I said.

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  “Ah, Ah, Ah! Knowledge isn’t free to strangers and visitors to our land, but I will share it for a price.”

  Fuck sake, how many grams was this going to set us back?

  “How much do you want for a couple of minutes then?” I said, watching him closely.

  “Oh, just a few minutes of your own time.” He grinned.

  “For…what purpose?”

  “Why, a spot on the stage, of course! A song, a poem, a dance or a story. This is the Mummer’s Stage darling, and we’re all audience and performer one.”

  I raised an eyebrow at being called 'darling' and looked to the others for help, but none was forthcoming.

  “Well, maybe one of us has what it takes, but wouldn’t you rather go-” Kizran tapped his hand on the table, cutting me off.

  “No, I want you to do it, you have an interesting aura. I think it would be most…compelling.”

  I took a draught of my ale; it was warm, and I felt myself relax as I swallowed it down. Gods, it had been too long since I’d had a tankard.

  “Fine. You’ll answer first, though. How good they are will determine how good my performance is.”

  Kizran let out an eerily familiar chuckle.

  “Oh, good, very good! Ask away, my friend.”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth, deciding which question to ask. One had been gnawing away at me since I’d seen Perek ram that blade through the messenger’s neck.

  “Why has Cemfyllen declared war on Avandun of all places?”

  Kizran giggled, his bells jingling. He was an irritating little sod.

  “How can you not know? It’s only the talk of this entire region.”

  “We’re new in town,” I said.

  “From where?” Kizran asked, leaning over the table.

  “Us answering questions wasn’t part of the deal.” I smiled.

  Kizran rolled his eyes while smirking, “I don’t pay much attention to politics. But when the announcement about the war went out. It seemed that King Stallivindium was very cross about Avandun increasing the price of metals we had a trade agreement for. Metals we need for our safety and defence he said.”

  What was he on about? I’d heard nothing about a price increase of our main export, but then again, I spent most of my time on a wall hoping some bastard lizard wouldn’t come wandering out to ruin our day.

  “So his first reaction is to declare war? Against other humans?” I asked, wondering not for the first time in my life, what Cemfyllen were playing at.

  “Oh, I don’t know, he probably threw a strop before going public.” Kizran picked at a nail on his hand. I watched him pull a small strip of dry skin away, leaving a patch of red, raw flesh. That would sting for days.

  “What about that man riding a Drake?”

  Kizran’s eyes widened as he took a deep breath, “He is dangerous. He works for the king and oversees the new deliveries of what? I couldn’t tell you.”

  Interesting, so Mavev was involved with the King of Cemfyllen. A Steelweaver in league with a warmonger? Was Stallivindium this Grandmaster of the Blade, or just a means for war to legitimise our particular skillset? An excuse for fighters like me, but with fewer qualms to stretch their legs a little?

  Gertha leaned in, “What's he delivering?”

  Kizran looked at me, and I just nodded in Gertha’s direction, “Answer her,” I said.

  The bells of his hat jingled as Kizran looked around the tavern. He took on a more serious tone, “I don’t know, but they all go to the Palace’s keep. People say smoke pours out at all hours, and the most horrific noises come from inside. Noises that sound like the Scaled Ones. The butcher’s boy said his father and all his apprentices have orders from the palace that go up to six months. They’re so busy, other folk can’t get more than essentials.”

  I exchanged glances with the others. Gertha gave me a nearly imperceptible nod.

  “Thank you, Kizran, that’s dead helpful. We’ll just keep our heads down then, folks like us can’t be putting our heads out the loosing slit, eh?” I gave him a warm smile.

  Kizran visibly relaxed and nodded, his bells jingling away.

  I took another draught of my drink. I noticed the others hadn’t touched theirs yet. I’d be half finished by the time they’d had a sip, I reckoned.

  “So, what food do you have here, Kizran? I’m starving.” I asked, slapping my belly in the way that Ulther used to hit his.

  Kizran’s smirk bloomed back onto his face, and a glint entered his eye.

  “You’ll find that out after your performance.”

  “You’re really going to make me-”

  Kizran sprang onto his feet, “Friends, Visitors and everyone else! May I present a Patron act for your enjoyment? Remember to be kind, for not everyone is blessed by the Mummer!”

  At Kizran’s announcement, another round of applause broke out, this time accompanied by Gertha, Sila and Sayo clapping eagerly. Gertha was chuckling, relishing my rapidly approaching embarrassment. I didn’t even know what I could do for a patron act. It wasn’t like I could whip out my new blade and talk them through swordwork.

  “What’s your name, friend? Say it loudly for all to hear!”

  Sighing, I got to my feet and looked over the whole crowd of expectant faces.

  “My name is Tullen. I suppose I can tell you a story.”

  I took a deep breath and started talking about the first thing that sprang into my mind.