When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods by Bruce Blake (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📕

Chair legs scraped the wooden floor and a few people clapped their appreciation. Ive turned his back on them, pleased with the result of his oration as he canted himself against the bar once more. Barely enough time passed for his elbow to touch wood when Krin's wife approached with four steaming bowls of stew teetering on her arms. The barkeep hurried over to take them from her and pass them out lest they topple from their perch. The stew was so thick, the spoon handles stood at attention. When he put one in front of the older girl, she leaned forward and inhaled the aroma; he thought her stomach growled its approval and wondered how long since Ive's "niece" and her friend last ate.

"D'you want me to take Fellick's bowl out to him?" the barman asked.

"Mr. Fellick is busy taking money from your patrons. Leave it here. I'll bring it to him shortly."

Krin nodded, spun on his heel and started toward the far end of the bar before Ive called him back.

"Before you go."

The barkeep peered over his shoulder, and Ive gestured for him to come closer. He did so, and the thin man stood straight and leaned partway across the rough-hewn wood.

"Has Birk been in?"

The question caught him off-guard, but Krin did his best to conceal his surprise. Why did the weapons merchant want to know about that cretin? He screwed up his face as if struggling to recall, and his gaze fell on the two girls. The elder one glanced up at him without pausing in her acquisition of sustenance. It seemed to him her eyes widened at him, if only minutely, as though trying to tell him something, ask him something.

For help?

He pulled his gaze away, admonishing himself for letting the mention of Birk's name send his imagination running off to such strange places. Still, he sensed an odd familiarity about the girl.

Krin turned his attention back to the spindly merchant.

"Not for a while. Took a stranger under his wing, I heard. Also understand he's got a beef with Juddah, who lives near the water, but I know little about it."

Ive frowned, rubbed his chin. "A stranger? Tell me about this fellow."

Krin wondered how much he should say. He put a finger to his lips, as though the gesture helped to recall a happening too long ago to be fresh in his memory, but he didn't need the pause. One of his best qualities as an innkeeper and bartender was his ability to remember faces. As he opened his mouth to reply, he noted the girl leaning closer, listening in a way Ive wouldn't have noticed.

"An old salt, man of the sea. Never laid eyes on him before. They shared a meal and an ale, then Birk took him away to the doctor. Word is he killed a fella at the doc's—another stranger—then disappeared."

"Perhaps the reason for the disagreement with this Juddah fellow?"

Krin leaned back from the bar and wiped his hands on his apron, fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. "Don't know. Might be you'd want to ask him yourself."

"Might be." Ive spoke louder, added a pleased tone to his voice. "Where do I find our man Juddah?"

Krin tilted his head forward, toward sunset. "He's got a place right next to the shore. Careful if you go see him, though." His gaze flickered to the girls, then back. "He ain't the friendliest of sorts."

"Appreciate the advice, Krin, but you forget I travel with the redoubtable Mr. Fellick."

"Yes, you do."

A droplet of sweat slipped from the barkeep's hairline and rolled along his temple. He raised his arm and wiped it away on his wrist. It wasn't particularly hot, so he wondered what about Ive's words or visit squeezed a drop of nervousness from his brow; wasn't like he'd make him go to Juddah's place. The older girl noticed him do it, so he wiped his palms on his apron again and gave her a half smile. She didn't return the expression, and he understood his cleanliness didn't concern her; she also speculated about his nerves, perhaps had some of her own.

Ive stood, took two coins from a pocket in his coat, and threw them on the bar. They clanked against the wood, one of them landing flat, the other hitting on its edge and spinning in a wobbling circle before falling. He hadn't taken a single bite of his stew.

"For the delicious repast, and for your troubles." He scooped up the two full bowls. "I'll take Mr. Fellick his lunch and enjoy mine with them. We will bring the dishes in when we're done. Finish up, ladies."

"Keep 'em," Krin said with a wave of his hand. "Drop them back next time you're passing through."

Ive nodded. "Fair enough. Come on, girls."

The younger of them, who hadn't looked up from her meal for an instant during the exchange, picked her bowl off the bar and held it to her lips, scraped the last of the stew into her mouth. The older girl appeared to have lost her appetite. She lifted the spoon one more time, then dropped it back into the vessel and pushed it away.

Ive paced toward the door, and Krin took a quick step to his right, putting the two still-seated girls between himself and the weapons merchant. Unexpected concern swirled in his gut, nothing more than a feeling without a solid base.

"Enjoy the stew, did you?" he asked in a voice he realized to be too loud for the circumstances as soon as the words left his mouth. He leaned close, his belly touching the wooden serving surface, and spoke so quietly, he wasn't sure if they'd hear him at all. "Be wary of this one."

His head tilted toward Ive, then he straightened and moved a step