A slip of a girl, likely too young to be working in any such establishment, came up to take his order. Norrec's nostrils had already pinpointed something cooking in the back and so he risked ordering whatever it might be, plus a mug of ale to rinse it down. The girl curtsied, then hurried off, giving him the opportunity to look around.
He had spent far too much of his life in taverns and inns, but at least this one did not look as if the cooks would be broiling whatever they could catch in their floor traps. The servers kept the tables and floors relatively clean of refuse and none of the customers had so far choked on either their meals or drinks. Overall, Atma 's verified his opinion of Lut Gholein as a kingdom in the midst of tremendous prosperity, where everyone appeared to be benefiting, even the lower castes.
The girl returned with his food, which actually looked as good as it smelled. She smiled at him, asking for what seemed to him reasonable coin. Norrec eyed his gloved hand, waiting.
Nothing happened. The gauntlet did not slam down on the table, leaving the proper amount. Norrec tried not to show his sudden anxiety. Had the armor let him trap himself? If he could not pay, at the very least they would throw him out. He glanced toward the door, where two brawny enforcers who had not bothered to look at him on his way in now seemed more than interested in his discussion with the serving girl.
She repeated the amount, this time a less friendly expression on her face. Norrec glared at the glove, thinking, Come on, damn you! All I want is a good meal! You can do that, can't you?
Still nothing.
"Is there something wrong?" the girl asked, her expression indicating that she thought she already knew the answer.
Norrec did not reply, closing and opening his hand in the fading hope that some coins would magically appear.
With one glance toward the two enforcers, the young server began to back away. "Excuse me, sir, I… I've other tables…"
The soldier looked past her, where the muscular pair had begun to move in his direction. The girl's actions had been a clear signal for them to do their work.
He rose, planting his hands on the table. "Wait! It's not what you—"
Under his palm, he heard the tinkle of coins as they struck the table.
She heard them, too, and the smile suddenly returned. Norrec sat back down, indicating the tiny pile now before him. "I'm sorry for the confusion. I've not been to Lut Gholein before and had to think whether I had the right amount. Is this enough?"
Her expression told him all he needed to really know.
"Aye, sir! Enough and much more!"
Over her shoulder, he saw the burly pair hesitate. The larger of the duo tapped his companion on the arm and the two men returned to their posts. "Take what you need for food and drink," he told the girl, feeling much relieved. After she had done that, Norrec added, "And the largest coin left for yourself."
"Thank you, sir, thank you!"
She nearly floated back to the counter, from the looks of things having received the largest tip of her life from him. The sight cheered Norrec briefly. At least some little good had come of the cursed armor.
He stared at the gauntlets, well aware of what had just happened. The suit had let him understand without words that it and not he controlled the entire situation.Norrec lived his life through its sufferance. To think otherwise was to play the fool.
Regardless of the reality of his dilemma, Norrec managed to enjoy his meal. Compared to Captain Casco's fare, it tasted of Heaven. Thinking of that mystical realm, the soldier pondered his next move. The armor kept a close rein on him, but surely there had to be a way to get past its guard. In a realm as vibrant as Lut Gholein, not only sorcerers but priests had to be found in abundance. Even if the former could do nothing for Norrec, then perhaps a servant of Heaven might. Surely a priest had links to forces far more powerful than the enchanted suit.
But how to speak with one? Norrec wondered if the armor could withstand being on holy ground. Could it be so simple as walking past a church and then throwing himself onto its steps? Would he be able to do even that much?
For a desperate man, it seemed worth the try. The armor needed him alive and relatively well; that alone might give him just enough of an opportunity. At the very least, Norrec had to try for the sake of not only his life, but his soul, too.
He finished his meal, then quickly downed what remained of the ale. During that time, the serving girl came back more than once to see if he needed anything, a clear sign that he had been very generous in his tipping. Norrec gave her one of the smaller coins remaining to him, which caused her smile to somehow grow even wider than before, then he casually asked her about some of the sights of the city.
"There's the arena, of course," the girl, Miram, replied quickly, no doubt having been asked this question more than once by newcomers. "And the palace, too! You must see the palace!" Her eyes took on a dreaming look. "Jerhyn, the sultan, lives there…"
This Jerhyn evidently had to be a handsome and fairlyyoung man judging from Miram's rapt expression. While the sultan's palace surely had to be an intriguing sight, it had not been what he had been searching for. "And besides that?"
"There's also the Aragos Theater near the square with the Cathedral of Tomas the Repentant across from it, but the Zakarum priests only allow visitors at midday and the theater is being repaired. Oh! There's the races on the far north side of the city, horses and dogs—"
Norrec ceased listening, the information he had needed now his. If holy ground or Heaven had any power over the demonic legacy of Bartuc, then this cathedral offered the best hope. The Zakarum Church represented the most powerful order on either side of the Twin Seas.
"— and some old folk and scholars like the ruins of the Vizjerei temple outside the city walls, though there's not much to see any more after the Great Sandstorm…"
"Thank you, Miram. That's good enough." He prepared to leave, already trying to think of some roundabout method by which to approach the vicinity of the Zakarum site.
Four figures in the now familiar garb of Lut Gholein's Guard stepped into Atma 's, but their interest in the tavern had nothing to do with drink. Instead, they looked directly at Norrec, their countenances darkening. He could almost swear that they knew exactly who he was.
With military precision that Norrec would have at other times admired, the foursome spread out, eliminating any hope of bypassing them on the way to the front entrance. Although they had not yet drawn their long, curved swords, each guard kept a hand near the hilt. One wrong action by Norrec and all four blades would come flying out, ready to cut him down.
Pretending to be not at all concerned, the wary fighter turned back to the serving girl, asking, "There's a friend Ineed to meet in a place located in the street behind this tavern. Do you have another exit in the back?"
"There's one that way." She started to point, but he gently took her hand, dropping another coin in it.
"Thank you, Miram." Gently pushing past her, Norrec moved as if heading toward the counter for one last drink. The four guards hesitated.
Halfway to the counter, he veered toward the back doorway.
Although he could not see them now, Norrec felt certain that the men knew his intentions. He picked up his pace, hoping to reach the exit as quickly as possible. Once out, he could try to lose himself among the growing throngs.
Norrec pushed the door wide, immediately darting through-
— and came to an abrupt halt as rough, strong hands seized him by both arms, holding him fast.
"Resist and it will go the worse for you, westerner!" snapped a swarthy guard with gold tabs on his cloak. He peered past Norrec, saying, "You have done your work well! This is the one! We will take it from here!"