Part I - Two Old Friends

It was well past the second watch, the time when reasonable men go to bed. but reasonable men don’t go drinking anywhere near places like “The Drunken Unicorn” or “The Broken Sword”. A fat merchant staggered deliberately as he wandered from the Unicorn to the Sword. As he passed a dark alley, he heard a husky voice call quietly “Sir, please help me..”
“I never was one to pass a maiden in distress”, he muttered. He shifted his grip on the staff he carried and laboriously changed course into the alley. Soon after he disappeared into the darkness a pair of swift thumps could be heard, along with the sound of bodies hitting the ground. Such sounds are far from uncommon, and universally ignored in this area.
Not much later, that same fat merchant wandered into the Drunken Unicorn. An astute observer would have noticed some new scuffs on his staff and a slightly larger bulge in his purse. He easily navigated the half-filled taproom to sit at an empty table in the back, near the stairs the second story. He carefully leaned his staff against the wall behind him.
A barmaid to old and tired to make a living taking men to the second floor took his order for a pint of the best ale. He had taken a single long drink when a woman descended the stairs and sat down beside him.
“Jason! I’d heard you were back in town. Still trolling for thieves?”
“It’s a hobby.”, he shrugged.
“It’s a hobby that’ll get you killed one of these days.” She said, but the twinkle in her eyes gave lie to her words.
He snorted, “not unless the Thieves Guild improves their training. I took those last two completely unawares. They assumed that because I was weaving back and forth as I left the Tavern that I was drunk and easy picking. Yet, here I am, carrying an Herbalist’s Staff and an Herbalist’s Girdle. When was the last time you saw a Master of Herbal Lore drunk?” She began to speak, but he cut her off, “Never mind. Besides that. It was an important occasion and I was all out of, well... just never mind.”
She grinned at the memory, but then spoke seriously. “Have you guessed why I invited you to visit?”
“Still testing me, Hmmm? Well, let’s see. I suspect you don’t really work upstairs, therefore you needed an excellent hiding place. But it had to be someplace you could meet with a man. A woman, that is, a Respectable Lady, wouldn't be caught dead here. That leaves roughly every man in the city. On the other hand, the rich and powerful have their own amusements. So you are meeting a Prince of the City to negotiate something-or-other and you want me to guard your back.”
“Not bad, a little vague, but it’ll do. I’ll not mention who I’m meeting, just in case. But he’s NOT a Prince of the City.”
“Well, I take it you’d like to take me to your room for further discussions?”
She spoke in a loud voice, then, so most of the room heard her. “Look Friend, this is not a fish market. The price is firm. Either you want to go upstairs or you don’t. Which is it?” Her back was to the room so only he could see the gleam in her eye at his discomfort.
His volume matched hers, but he added the slight slur of a man with too much ale. “No need to shout, strumpet. I only asked if that was for the night or for an hour. I’m coming upstairs. I’m coming.” He dug about in his purse and pulled out a small gold coin. She took the coin, made it disappear into her generous bosom and took his arm. They turned and went upstairs, pausing only for him to retrieve his staff.
When they reached her room, she started to return the coin, but he said “keep it, it wasn’t mine earlier tonight anyway.” She smiled and left the coin where it was.
He sat cross legged on the floor, with surprising grace for so heavy a man. he took a small pan from one of the many pockets of his girdle. “Hand me that candle, would you please?” She passed him the candle and he began warming the pan over it’s flame. When the pan was hot, he started taking small pinches of different herbs from his girdle and mixed them in the pan. The aromatic smoke soon filled the room. He leaned over and spat into the pan causing a bubble of clear air to form around him. She mimicked his gesture and the bubble expanded to include her.
“This little trick doesn’t last long, but it’s easy to do. And hard to counter without being obvious about it. - Now, Kendra, why am I here and what do you need?”
“I really need some backup on this one, Jason. The important person I’m meeting is the son of the Lord of Tir-Arak. He has come to negotiate an alliance with us. His message said that there are spies everywhere and that they would relish the chance to kill him and blame us at the same time.”
“I can think of half a dozen people that would sell their own grandmothers to make that happen.” He said. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“No,” She answered, “Not yet. But the Prince is due in town, in disguise, tomorrow. He will come to this inn and ask for Ira of the Golden Lamp. I’m hoping you will make sure we both live through it.”
“I’ll do what I can, you know that. But I’m not a wizard. I’m just an Apothecary with wandering feet. I can hardly cast some great spell and envelope you two in magical protection.”
“I know, I know. But there are few wizards I trust, and fewer that could pull something like that off and not alert every mage from here to the sea. Besides, the Prince insisted that the meeting be as low-key as possible. I don’t think he trusts the Princes of This City, either.”
“Smart man, your prince. Look, the smoke is starting to thin. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“I hope not, because there isn’t much more I know myself. With a little luck we’ll know more tomorrow”
She grinned and stuck out one hip in a broad parody of seduction “So, do you want to share my bed?”
He answered ruefully, “um, did I tell you about the unfortunate side effect of that particular herb? Let’s just say that tonight we will both be able to sleep easily.”
She laughed, “You mean you can’t...”
He blushed (a rare sight in itself) and said “not tonight, and probably not tomorrow morning. “
“Well then, my mighty warrior, let’s get to sleep. - tomorrow will be a long day.”

To keep up the fiction of a fat merchant out on the town, the next morning they slept in, went through their own individual morning rituals then ordered breakfast sent up.
As he spread potted meat on a slab of bread, he said “I’ve put what wards I can on the doors and windows. I can’t promise they’ll keep out an army, but no one will sneak up on you.”
“Good, after you eat, you’d better take over the table at the bottom of the stairs. You can pretend to nurse a hangover, or work on a new one, until my guest shows up.”
“Sounds good.”, he reached into his girdle for a tiny pinch of something. he rubbed it into his eyes and they immediately burst into tears. When he looked up at her his eyes were red and bloodshot, as if he’d been drinking heavily.
The day wore on, he amused himself making bets with himself as to which drunk would fall over first. His right hand was three coppers ahead when a tall, clean-shaven man in a dark hood said, quietly, “I’m looking for Ira of the Golden Lamp”.
Jason didn’t blink, just said “top of the stairs, second door on the right. But I hope your purse is heavy going up. It’ll be lighter going down!” The other man didn’t speak a word. He ascended the stairs and disappeared into Kendra’s room.
Jason waited an hour, then two. He had ordered and eaten a bowl of the greasy slop the innkeeper called stew and already eaten half his store of peppermint in an effort to settle his stomach. He was an old campaigner, and used to waiting, but it seemed too quiet. He hoped Kendra sent a message down soon.
She came herself. She dropped into the chair next to him and spoke, “your wards functioned perfectly. Unfortunately, he was poisoned before he got here. he’s dead upstairs in my bed.”
“Damn, I should have looked closer as he went by.”
“That’s not important now. We’ve got to get rid of the body - outside the city.”
“Right, I can help with the smell, but it will take a couple of strong men to carry him.”
“Don’t worry. Muscle that can keep it’s mouth shut is pretty common around here. That’s not what concerns me. It’s this ring.” She opened her hand on the table and showed him a man’s ring with a large green stone. It was carved into an odd pattern, but otherwise a simple silver ring with an emerald. “Before he died he said ‘don’t let them get it’, then he took off the ring and stuck it in my hand. Do you recognize it?”
“No, not workmanship or style. I doubt he was concerned about the value of the ring. It’s either a symbol of something, or magic.”
“Can you tell which?”
“Maybe”, he extracted a leaf from his girdle. “Put the ring on the table.” if the ring is even slightly magical, we’ll see the leaf brown a little. If it’s a very powerful item, we may see a little charring where the ring touches it, or some smoke.” He placed the leaf over the ring. it quickly began to smoke and curl as though he had placed it on a burning coal. It then burst into flames.

A Different Ring

This is a different kind of blog. Instead of my own random ramblings or the diary of a work-at-home dad, you're going to get fiction. Fantasy, to be exact. Swords, and Sorcery and maybe a dragon or an elf. You can never tell.

This story started a long time ago, on a different service, but that story was never finished. I had a co-writer then, but she has abandoned her part of it (Diane, if you want to play, just let me know! You're always welcome)

Frankly, I'm starting this simply because I'm curious to see how it ends.

So, a couple of ground rules: I'll try to post chunks of story once a week or so. I'll try NOT to have to go to earlier sections and edit them, but I will if I think the story needs it. I'm gratefull for any responses, suggestions, flames, etc. On the other hand, it's my story and I'll make the decisions.

So, on to the first section.