#2: Warmth of the Fire

Finnan felt the door click shut behind him. The sound felt heavy, too heavy for this quiet room. 

    Empty tables littered the large area. Flagstones were covered by worn, elegant rugs. A modest hearth snapped brightly at the far wall.  On open shelves, painted globes of orange and red crowded together, vying for attention. 

    And three broad men engulfed the only occupied table, closest the fire. Their faces swung towards him as he entered, their faces silhouetted by the flames. 

    Ah, good. They might know what's going on.

    He started towards them. "Good evening, gents. Mind if I share your seat by the fire?"

    One of the shadowed men started sniggering, saying in a dark voice "No room here." 

    Finnan glanced at the very empty seat at their table. Then back at them.

    He weighed his options, shrugged to himself, and walked straight towards it, his hands in a flourish as he said, "Ah but look - what a discovery! Seems you may have missed one in your count. No matter, I shall remove it from the equation." He moved to sit down. 

    The tallest man pulled the empty chair away from Finnan. He could see their faces clearly now. Fresh cuts and deep bruises marred their faces, their armor scratched and broken. Tough crowd. 

    The tall one said in a nasal tone, as if his nose were broken, "Perhaps we weren't clear. This seat is taken."

    Finnan couldn't help himself, "Yes. I'm sure your bruised ego could use a seat of its own." 

    He immediately cursed himself to a fiery hell as the three men abruptly stood up, hands on their swords. Jumpy. I wonder what action they've seen.

    He added with his hands up, "Steady now, gentlemen. I was just about to buy you all a drink and know your story. I'm afraid the frostbite has confused my good manners." Finnan waiting, and watched. The tall one's gaze cut towards the dark one, shifting his weight. Okay, that's what I thought. Might be able to take two, but better to lighten my purse. 

    He chuckled slightly, then cleared his throat. "But I'm sure a round of the finest whiskey here will ease our first meeting. My name is Finnan Tealeaf. Well met, warrior." He extended his freezing hand across the table towards the dark one, who glowered at Finnan. Calculating.

    They looked tired, and battered, and Finnan was betting on a hunch. He waited out the silent challenge, a friendly smile set on his face. 

    Nothing moved.

    Then the dark one's face cracked into an easy smile and the tension broke as he shook Finnan's hand. "Bergram's the name. You sure know how to make an entrance!"

    "Well trouble is my favorite drink. Best served... warm." Finnan gestured towards the fire.

    "Haha, come, sit with us. We could all use a bit of whiskey to warm the night. But keep that trouble away. We've had enough of it. 

    "That's M'non," he said, pointing to the tall one as they sat. "And that's Crusher." Pointing to the other. A fitting name.

    Finnan melted into the heated chair through the introductions, nodding his head in turn. "Well met, all of you."

    As if on cue, a large man with a heavy white beard burst from behind the bar. One hand held three steaming mugs, the other balancing a food-laden tray. As he placed the goods down, Bergram said to the barkeep, "Klint, good man. Bring us that Florester you've been hiding away. This here chap is paying." With that he thumped Finnan on the back. Got the good stuff. I'm in.

    Klint gave Finnan a nod, "Admirable choice, young master. I'll get that straight away. Anything else I can offer?"

    "I'll follow the good opinions of my new acquaintances, and take what they're having. If they have as fine a taste in food as they do in company, then I am in good hands."

    "Of course you are, young master." Then Klint turned his head to address Bergram, "Is this the one you were waiting on? He doesn't seem like much." He raised an eyebrow then shuffled away.

    Finnan put on a cool smile and rested his hand on a hidden dagger. They couldn't be looking for me here... He said, "Waiting on? I'm afraid he's right, I'm not much to wait for."

    Crusher answered while the others tucked into their food, "No, Finnan Tealeaf. We wait on mistress. Take her up mountain. Passage still open."

    Not for me then. Perfect. Finnan relaxed and smiled once more, "Up the mountain, so close to winter! I thought all the contesters had left a whole month ago. Is this what the mountain's done to you?"

    "The mountain's trouble enough, but it's the beasts that put up the real fight. The likes of which you've never seen. Nor ought to see. We've already lost two. A couple of the finest fighters in the realm," Bergram said.

    He sat in silence with the memories. Then continued, "But mi'lady wanted them cleared out before she came. As if those monsters could just be cleared out. As if she'd just be able to walk right up to the Heart. Like all this is a game."

    "Well Bergram, this lady must have great confidence in your abilities, to send you up the Ice Heart with any hope of success. It is fortunate she  sent you so late in the season, when all the other contesters have left. Less for you to fight through!" 

    Finnan leaned forward as if in secret and asked, What milestone did you make?"

    Crusher pulled out a blue stone and set it on the table with a thunk, but it was Bergam who spoke, "The third." 

    Finnan sat back and scanned the shelves on display. They were laden with red and orange stones, but only a handful of blue sat among them.

    "Very impressive. It is indeed fortunate that my business does not take me to the Heart, and the mercy of your blades." Best not to tell them. Finnan absently ran his hand over the map tucked inside his coat. 

    Klint returned to set a bowl of stew in front of Finnan, then placed tumblers of liquid amber around the table. He kept an extra glass for himself and toasted the group, "To deep pockets," he nodded to Finnan, "and fine friends," he nodded to Bergram, then sipped at his glass. 

    The barkeep continued, "Ah, yes. it's been too long since I've tasted this beauty. But the occasion surely merits the opportunity," he gestured towards the stone on the table. "Want me to set it with the others?"

    Bergram took a sip of his drink, "No, Klint. You know she'll crack our skulls together if we don't show her. Speaking of, she's late." He looked to the doorway.

    Finnan felt a pull at his gut at the words. Words he'd heard before. It couldn't be. But he had to ask, "And, who might this lady of yours be? Sounds like a woman I'd like to know."

    "The Lady Highcrest, of Greenmerrow. I don't say this of many I meet, but she can hold her own."

    Dammit. Finnan threw back his whiskey as the door flung open once more. 

    Covered in spiked armor and a greatsword strapped to her back, a woman posed in the doorway. The snow dutifully whirled around her, teasing her unkempt red hair. Showoff.

    Klint called out to her "Young mistress, the weather is best enjoyed outside, so that we may keep the warmth in!"

    Finnan just sat there like a mouse in a trap as her eyes found his. And narrowed to slits. She shut the door behind her and said, "Hello, brother. Guards, kill him."