Lerran walked down to the Emerald Eye that afternoon, to plan his father’s downfall. At his side, Tass strode purposefully, with her brown hair pulled back behind her shoulders and a grey blouse on. Her arms held his right arm, as they descended the hill to the Gharo’s loyalty tavern. They were admitted without question or charge into the two-storey pub built out of small grey bricks and teak beams.
“Is he here yet?” Lerran asked.
Tass tossed her hair with a flick of her head. “I don’t see him,” she said. “Come.” She guided him across the tavern to the wide staircase on the opposite side from the door. They climbed toward a wall, then split into two arms that reached the next storey. They walked to the right, and spotted Isar at a table away from the bar. The guard captain was still wearing his studded leather tunic and had a machete at his waist.
They approached with a smile. A barmaid in a scanty green skirt started to approach, but Lerran showed her three fingers, and she nodded. They knew him here, and knew what he drank.
“Son of Gharo,” Isar said, with a smile. He stood as they sat, then joined them.
“Lerran, please,” he replied.
“Lerran,” Isar said. “And Tass.” Lerran had met the guard captain many times before at meetings with his father, but Tassina and Isar had been friends since they were children, growing up in the streets of Sheld.
At last the barmaid brought their drinks, three rums. She smiled as she set them down on the table, then let the tray slide down into her palm. “We’ve a stranger at the bar,” she told them. “Master Thurin told me to tell you, in case your meeting is confidential.”
The bar was on the other side of the room; there were only two people at it, and five others at tables between them. A woman sat at the bar, with long black hair and a loose white tunic. She had her back to Lerran, but he could tell she was sipping from a mug.
“So she’s not part of the Family?” Lerran asked.
The barmaid bobbed. “No. And she’s strange…”
Lerran sighed. “Give me a minute,” he said to the others. He stood up from his chair and followed the poorly clad barmaid, trying not to look at her. After all, his wife was watching.
But then, as he neared the bar, he forgot about the barmaid altogether. Their guest was at first an athletic woman with dark hair. But he soon saw that her nails were longer than normal, and her skin coarse, calloused, and occasionally sprouting errant hairs. She glanced at him as he saw down with a stool between them; her face was not unpleasant to look upon, despite her tough skin. She set down her mug of beer and looked at Lerran.
“What brings you here?” he asked, with a smile.
“Lost my way,” she mumbled, slightly inebriated. There was something off-putting about her mouth, but Lerran hadn’t been looking closely enough. “Not sure where to go next.”
Lerran shrugged. “Where were you heading?”
“Nowhere. I just don’t want to go home.” She sighed, and took another drink.
Was she spying for his father? Or the spies from Bellasa? Or Havard? “You look… unique,” Lerran said, hesitantly. “Do you have a condition of some kind?”
She glared at him briefly. “Shove off,” she said, and this time he saw her teeth. She had a mouth of sharp fangs, not square teeth.
“This is my tavern,” Lerran said.
“And I paid for entry, and this drink. Not remarks,” she replied. She put down her drink, and her sharp nails tapped the counter top. “I’ll go find the next bar, I guess. Already been to half of them…” Her lips formed a big frown.
Lerran looked at the barmaid, and raised a finger. “One more,” he mouthed. The poor girl in the green skirt was hiding near the door to the kitchen, but came forward to pour another beer. “Stay, have another drink,” Lerran said. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m just confused.”
The strange woman sighed, and relaxed again. “Your bar? You Gharo, then?”
“Not Gharo,” Lerran chuckled. “He’s my father, no matter what I want.” He had brought his own rum from his table and took a sip.
“I just want a safe place to deal with things. My past,” she said. She looked at the drink that Lerran had requested for her, now sitting in front of her. “Could I find that here? I had paid for a room down the street.”
“Right,” Lerran said. “I just need to know where your allegiances lie.”
The woman sighed. “My name is Paksis, and I don’t obey anyone. Not anymore, and never again.” She took a big drink of her beer.
“How long will you be staying?” Lerran asked.
Paksis didn’t smile; she was probably still trying to keep her teeth hidden. “For a few more weeks, I think. Or until someone starts chanting ‘freak’ at me, again.”
Lerran lowered his rum again. “You’re welcome to stay here, Paksis. No one will bother you, and if they do, telling them you’re my guest. Lerran.”
“Lerran,” she repeated. “Thank you.” She looked back down into her mug, and Lerran strode away.
At the table, Isar and Tass were speaking quietly; it seemed his wife was telling him of their backers, the bulk of Gharo’s family that would see the old man unseated. They glanced up at Lerran inquiring about the stranger, and he said, “Later. Let’s talk business now.”
“Of course,” Tass said. “I already told him who is on whose side.” Isar nodded with a straight face.
Lerran flat out asked him, “Are you and your men willing to back me?”
“We are. I know the other guard captains are more cautious than I, which likely means their men will not act at all. There’s a chance they may take Gharo’s orders though, but… I wouldn’t be concerned. We have a third of all Gharo’s fighters at your disposal,” Isar explained.
“Next week then,” Lerran said. “Be ready for me in the courtyard, and we will make our move. I’ll have my sisters with me. Tass?”
“I’ll be there,” she said.
Isar smiled. “Next week, Sheld changes hands.”
Lerran nodded. “Let’s hope the Lord Employers don’t object to the new leadership.” Sheld still had its own government, even if it was a weak one. He took another drink of his rum, and waited for the 12th to come.