Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,8
many more were not so clearly marked. There were, of course, no Sil’ath to be seen.
The owner of the inn, a stout Duergar named Olekk, was polishing the bar with devoted ferocity. He paused, his swarthy face flushed with effort, and squinted down its length. Straightening, he threw the cloth over one broad shoulder, and expanded his possessive scan to include the rest of the room. Finally, with a satisfied nod, he swung away and passed through the doorway into the kitchen. As he went, he exchanged a slight nod with the hulking figure standing at the back wall, a Traug––a truly massive specimen of its kind––that he employed to remove troublemakers from the premises. It was a job the Traug did with dispassionate efficiency, as Amric could attest after two days of hunting rumors among the inn’s itinerant patrons.
Amric’s roving gaze caught on a grey-haired man seated alone in the shadows of a corner table. The fellow wore a sardonic smile, and as he locked eyes with Amric, he inclined his head in a slight nod toward him. The swordsman had passed through this common room countless times in the past two days, and did not recall ever seeing the man, let alone conversing with him enough to reach familiarity. He shrugged to himself. Perhaps the man had overheard him seeking information, and felt he had some to share or sell. Regardless, given the lack of competing leads, Amric could not afford to let any potential opportunity go unexplored.
As he gathered himself to stand, he noticed two tall, slender figures wending their way toward him between the tables of the common room. Clad in dark leather, they moved with graceful purpose, balanced and alert, remaining precisely arm’s length apart at all times. Practiced predators accustomed to hunting together, Amric noted. He settled back into his chair, donning a neutral expression above the table while beneath it he palmed a throwing knife from its concealed sheath behind his belt. The stranger in the corner would have to wait.
They drew to a halt as they reached him, fanned out on the opposite side of the table. Their arms hung relaxed at their sides, their postures confident, almost insolent. They gazed down at Amric with matching smiles but did not speak, and Amric took the opportunity to study them in this close proximity.
They had fine builds and finer features. Their eyes were larger than a human’s, liquid glimmers beneath long, delicate brows. That they had Elvaren blood was evident at once, but they were at the same time unlike any of that lineage he had seen before. They had striking white shocks of hair, and their pale skin held a dusky tinge, like layers of translucence over something darker. From features to dress to mannerism, they appeared identical in every detail.
They waited, their manners mocking and expectant, and Amric somehow felt that to speak first was to cede some obscure advantage in this encounter. He passed an unhurried stare from one to another and waited as well. He realized that the room had become hushed as the duo’s odd behavior had drawn attention. Or, Amric reflected, they were known well enough to the inn’s patrons to warrant the reaction; all the more reason to exercise caution. He felt a sudden nagging itch at his perceptions, and on impulse he flicked a glance toward the old stranger in the corner. The man had withdrawn even further into the dimness there, arms folded across his chest, his enigmatic smile a mere suggestion in the shadows. He appeared to be regarding Amric still across the room, and some trick of the light gave his eyes a lambent glow.
Yes, Amric mused, he would definitely need to understand this man’s interest in him soon. He returned his attention to the pair before him.
It seemed that taking his attention from them, even momentarily, had accomplished what exchanging stares did not. Amric read irritation plain upon their features at being ignored so, and the one to his right finally spoke.
“It is churlish for not offering us to join its table,” he said.
“Indeed so, brother,” replied the other. “And here it sits, compounding its stunning lack of manners with every breath.” They cocked their heads to the side in unison, studying him as if he were some loathsome insect.
Amric raised an eyebrow. “I do not believe we have met—” he began.
“The umbrage of our employer is, certainly, less of a mystery now,” one continued, as if he had not spoken.