took to drink. He was familiar with this town, though he hadn't been there for many years. The last time he was there, he had gotten himself into a tavern brawl in which Millet was nearly knifed. He chuckled under his breath at the thought of Millet scolding him after the fight. He missed his company, now more than ever.
Lee led the horses down the main avenue, then down a side street to one of two lodging houses. It was by far the most run down.
“We're staying here?” asked Jacob. His lip was curled in disgust.
“We'll be staying in far worse before it's over,” Lee replied. “Compared to where we're going, this is a palace.” He dismounted. “Stay with the horses until I get a room and arrange a stable.”
Lee entered the lodging house and stood just beyond the doorway. The main hall was sparsely furnished with a few chairs and a wooden bench. An old blackened, brick fireplace in the far left wall burned brightly. Still, the room was chilly and unpleasant. A fat, balding man wearing a stained tunic was asleep in the corner, a mug of ale precariously balanced on his round belly. The lodge was otherwise empty.
Lee slammed the door shut, startling the innkeeper awake. The mug fell to the floor, shattering and splashing ale on the man's dingy trousers.
“Bloody hell!” cursed the innkeeper. He looked down at his spilled ale and grumbled. When he saw Lee standing there he frowned. “What do you want?”
“A room, fat man,” said Lee. “And be quick. And send someone to stable my horses.” He reached in his belt and pulled out two coppers.
This did nothing to change the innkeeper's demeanor. “Do I look like a groom to you?”
“No,” Lee replied. “Grooms are cleaner. Now get off your backside, and have my horses tended.”
The innkeeper snorted, then threw himself to his feet with a grunt. He walked over to Lee and snatched the coppers from his hand. “Grant!” he bellowed harshly, spittle flying from his mouth. A rustle came from behind the door just on the other side of the counter. A moment later, a bent old man emerged. Smiling a stupid, toothless grin, he moved with surprising speed.
“Yes, sir?” said Grant.
“Go stable the horses outside,” growled the innkeeper. “And don't take all night.”
Grant spun around and dashed out the door. Lee followed. After unpacking their belongings Lee tossed Grant a copper.
“Thank you, kind sir,” said Grant, almost groveling.
“Just see that they're well-tended,” said Lee.
“Of course, of course,” Grant replied. “You can count on me, sir.” He bowed low then led the horses away.
“What a wretched creature,” said Jacob.
Lee looked at his son. “I would say pitiful, rather than wretched.”
The innkeeper showed them to their room and without a word, shuffled off, cursing under his breath. The room had four walls, three cots, and nothing more. A cold draft seeped in from the cracks in the rotten floor timbers and the window had been boarded up.
Lee grinned at his son. “I've stayed in worse.” He placed his pack in the far corner. “We'll find a meal elsewhere. I doubt the good innkeeper will provide one.”
Jacob tossed his pack next to Lee's. “I hope the food in this town is better than the lodging.”
“Don't count on it.” Lee led Jacob from the room and back to the main hall. The innkeeper had retaken his place in the chair, holding a new mug of ale. “If anyone touches our belongings, I'll hold you accountable.” He tapped the hilt of his sword.
The innkeeper scowled. “Your things will be fine.”
The nearest tavern didn't even have a name, only a sign that read ‘Tavern.’
Lee surveyed the streets. The traffic had thinned a bit, and Lee suspected that in an hour or two the lodges and taverns would be full; he hoped with people that could be of use. Inside was unremarkable, and typical for a trading post tavern. Two long tables spanned the breadth of the room to the left side, and several small tables surrounded them. A fire burned in the hearth to the right beside a small bar. The bartender, a thin waif of a man, was busy arranging rows of clay mugs. The scent of cooked meat filled the air. Lee knew this would be replaced by the stench of ale and unwashed bodies soon enough.
“I suppose you'll be wantin' to eat,” called the bartender, not bothering to look up.
Lee approached the bar and slid four coppers to the bartender. “I'll be