The Rogue River Inn was a three storey building, with a stable and a storage house adjacent to it; it was built on a rocky cliff above the uptown rapids, where the Shalan River roared in the direction of Comet’s Cove. A balcony extended out, so the patrons could enjoy the cloud of spray from the water while they drank their fill. It was a popular tavern, with an intermediate price range and a wide selection.
Lerran walked up the old stone stairs towards the Inn and glanced back. At the bottom of the street, Isar, Antha, and Paksis waited, the latter smiling at Lerran’s stocky build and balding head. He looked down at the brass arm piece, and again marvelled that his skin was not his own. He was the apparition, right now, a man who remained a mystery to him still.
That was the last he looked back at them, but he kept smiling. He had tried hitting on Tassina with this appearance; he had followed her to a general store and done his best to flirt with her, but she had remained loyal to her husband, and told the creepy heavyset man to leave her be. Now she knew the truth to—they all did. He had summoned all of his siblings, Isar, Tass, and even Paksis into his office to show them the shape-changing trinket.
It was agreed that, though they did not know for sure who this man was, that he should be the one to meet with Erril, the man who had delivered Lerran’s letter. Lerran still suspected a mole in his estate, someone who might leak information to Havard, for example, but he had no solid leads implicated Erril and the subject of his letter, Traz, to Havard. For now, it was just a lot of mystery, and wearing the strange metal clasp was an experiment to illicit answers.
The Rogue River Inn was not too busy mid-afternoon, so Lerran sat down at the bar and ordered a rum. He looked around the room at the various patrons, but did not see Erril. Of course, he had never seen Erril before, only Antha had. He had a description, and a hope that Erril would recognize whatever stranger Lerran appeared to be.
But nothing happened for the first hour, so he ordered another rum. He winked at Isar, Antha, and Paksis, and then sat down at a table of townsmen for a game of cards. Though Lerran was wearing his usual white tunic and green eye pin, the man he appeared to be wore a dark blue shirt and black trousers, without any other decorations. He kept drinking the rum they gave him. He lost more than he won, but he wasn’t applying himself very hard. He was just trying to pass the time.
There was still no sign of Erril. After dinner, he wondered if Erril had been and gone—maybe the secretive man had seen Antha there and left immediately. But the others were in disguise too, just not as impressive a disguise as Lerran’s.
Lerran was feeling a little tipsy when Erril finally appeared that evening. The head of the Family was sitting at a table with some dice players but not joining in. He just kept sipping the rum in his hand and feeling the room spin around him.
In walked a wiry little man with brown hair combed back and a big nose. Erril looked right at him, made eye contact, nodded, and then went to the bar. “Do you guys see him too?” Lerran asked his dice friends. He took another drink and put his arm on the tabletop so he didn’t fall out of his chair.
One of the dice players grunted, glanced at Erril, and then back to his game.
Erril got a drink and walked to an abandoned corner table. The sun had already set, and the only light in that end of the room was a candlelit chandelier. Lerran kept staring at him, uncertain what to do. He took another drink.
Of course, Erril just stared back. After a moment he nodded to Lerran, who still stared at him. Erril took a drink, so Lerran did too. With an annoyed expression, Erril lifted his hand and tapped the table, then shrugged his arms as though he was confused.
Lerran stood up, shakily, and pushed his way past a few other tables until he reached Erril’s. He dropped down into a wooden chair across from the tanned man with a thump. “You and me, we’re friends right?” he asked.
Erril blinked. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked.
“Shit’s up with the Family,” Lerran drawled. “I don’t like it.”
The small man opposite him sighed, and put his face in his hands for a moment. He wiped his eyes as though he was tired, and then grabbed his beer again. “Is that why you missed our last meeting?”
“Yea…”
“Did you bring me anything this time? Or just this drink?” Erril asked, impatiently. “Haven’t seen you acting so unprofessionally yet.”
“What do you want this time?” Lerran muttered. He knew what he was supposed to be doing—getting info from Erril, but he couldn’t think of how to. Why had Erril taken so cursedly long to show up? Lerran had sat around for hours!
Erril sighed. “Lerran is in charge of the Family now. Did he find the documents? Traz, everything has gone to chaos—you know what I need to know. What’s going on?” There was an edge of desperation to his voice.
So I am Traz…. he thought, grinning. Then he sobered his expression quickly. “I don’t know anything about what Lerran knows…” He tried not to laugh.
“What’s gotten into you? Did Lerran kill the Lord Employers? What happened in Worker’s Rise?” Erril questioned, intently. His hands gripped the beer mug with white knuckles. “All the city knows is that the Family is in charge and has the culprit in custody. Rotting away, instead of standing for his crimes… so was it them?”
“No… no,” Lerran said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t see it being the Family.”
“So I’m just supposed to believe, from a very drunk spy, that you people have all that power by coincidence?” Erril asked. “Give me something to work with, or we’re done here.”
Lerran raised his hand to scratch the back of his scalp, but instead held up three fingers behind his head. Things were about to get more entertaining, and he started to smile in anticipation. Erril cursed at the expression on the drunk man’s face, and finished off his beer.
Meanwhile, Antha, Isar, and Paksis moved in. Erril spotted them almost immediately, and stood up. Isar reached him first, and tried to grab him, but Erril countered the hand with his forearm and stumbled past the guard into the open common area. “They’re trying to take me!” he called out, and half-drunk bar patrons looked up. “They’re the Family of Lerran, they’ll make me disappear too—”
Antha knocked him back against the wall, cutting off anymore words, while Isar and Lerran looked around the inn.
“Half of us are under their payroll,” mumbled a man at the bar. “Don’t anybody be stupid.”
Lerran took another drink. He still looked like Traz of course, and when they dragged Erril past him, the small man shouted incoherent curses at him—every other word seemed to be “traitor” or “sold me out”. Lerran shrugged and leaned on Paksis as they left the Rogue River behind.