Chapter 130: Snitch for two coins
"If you want company, she’s available." The serving woman joked.
Marek looked away immediately and picked up his knife. "I’m not interested," he said flatly.
The woman’s smile faded. She scoffed, a small sound of annoyance. "Suit yourself." And she walked off to tend to other customers.
Marek began to eat. The meat was tough and slightly burnt, the bread stale but filling. He chewed, barely tasting it. His thoughts drifted again to the journey ahead, oblivious to whatever noise was around him. The laughter, the argument, the clatter of dice and mugs, it became a background sound.
Three men walked in. They were large, broad-shouldered, and dressed in travel-worn leather armor. Each carried visible weapons. They looked like men who had done violence before and would do it again. Their sharp eyes moved across the room, scanning every soul with quick, assessing looks.
They had a paper in their hands. One of them held it up, a diagram of some kind. The three men split up immediately. They moved between the tables, holding the paper aloft, measuring it against the faces of the men sitting around.
Some gamblers cursed at the interruption of their game, annoyed at having cards or dice pushed aside. Others cowered in fear, shrinking back in their chairs, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.
Marek remained still at the far end of the room, his focus momentarily fixed on his plate.
After circling half the room without success, the three men regrouped near an empty table closer to the center. One of them shouted at the woman of the house.
"Ale. Three horns." The sound of his voice silenced conversations nearby.
The younger woman who had been trying to entice Marek approached them first. She swayed her hips and danced her tities to get their attention.
"Would you like to have something warm in your bed for the night?" She leaned close as she spoke so they could see down her dress.
One of the men grabbed her butt. Another grabbed her breasts. She laughed louder, playing along.
"I could do you both, but the pay is triple the price."
"Be mine only tonight, my lady." The first man dragged her down onto his lap, and she sat on his thighs while he kissed her roughly, his hand still on her butt.
"You whore! Come be with me for the night." The other man beckoned to the nearest lady. She approached him and saddled him immediately while he buried his face in the hollow of her chest.
His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers gripping the base of her neck as he kissed her—hard, tongue pushing past lips and teeth, swallowing her moans. Her tits heaved under the lace bra, straining for attention, and his fingers twisted the buttons of her blouse and palmed her breast. She gasped against his mouth, back arching as he rolled his thumb over her nipple.
The older serving woman brought their ale shortly after. She set the horns on the table, and as she did, her eyes fell on the paper lying there. It was a drawing of a man’s face. A crude sketch, but recognizable.
Her expression changed slightly. The last of the three men, the one not occupied with a woman, noticed her expression. He saw her knowing look, and she widened her eyes before she controlled herself. He leaned forward.
"Have you seen someone who looks like him?" he asked, picking up the paper and holding it up toward her.
She looked at it for half a second too long, then back at him. She nodded quickly, too quickly. "No," she said
He watched her carefully. Then leaned back. "You may leave."
Then she turned and walked away, back towards the kitchen.
At his table, Marek didn’t finish the last of his bread and meat. A shift in the air pulled him back to full awareness. He did not know what triggered it at first. Maybe the way voices lowered in one part of the room. Maybe instinct. He slowly lifted his eyes and scanned the tavern again. That was when he saw them. The three men had not been there earlier.
He recognized the way they sat. One was looking around the room with keen interest. Marek immediately pulled his hood back over his head fully and lowered his face. He adjusted his posture slightly, turning his back to the center of the room.
The man who had asked the serving woman a question stood up. He walked to the counter where she was wiping mugs with a rag, trying to look busy. He tossed two good coins onto the counter in front of her.
"Are you sure you haven’t seen someone who looks like this man around this town?" he asked again, showing her the paper up close.
She looked at the gold and packed it. She looked at him. "Yes," she smiled.
The man leaned forward slightly. "Where?"
"He’s over there." She pointed toward the corner where Marek had been sitting.
The man turned and looked. The table was empty. Marek was no longer sitting there.
The moment he had pulled up his hood and recognized the threat, he had moved.
His face hardened. He grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her close, his grip tight enough to hurt. "You are tricking me? Pointing at nothing?" He growled.
Fear gripped her. Her eyes went wide, her mouth opened and closed. "No...no...it’s the truth." She stammered. "He was there. He just stepped in not long ago. He had roasted meat and bread. I served him myself."
The man looked at the table again. He saw the plate, the leftover meat and bread, and a mug of water. He saw that she was telling the truth. He released her arm and pushed her away.
He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The other two men looked up. They pushed off the women on their laps, and they both stumbled and fell to the floor. They stood up, their hands going to the weapons at their belts. The women tried to protest but were ignored.
"He was right in this room. But he’s gone. Move!"
They followed him out immediately, shoving past customers and knocking over a chair in their haste.
Outside, Marek had already untied his horse and swung up into the saddle, kicking the horse into a gallop. He headed east, away from the town and the men. He raced into the cold and dark night.
