The horses rode at a good clip, and though I wasn't an expert rider by any means, I felt like I made good time back to the Saurshead Inn. I could see plenty of people inside and the noise was already loud enough to keep neighbors awake. 

The inn prided itself on its Old World aesthetics. Sure, it had a metal door that slid closed when the tavern was closed, but once that was slid open, the patron was greeted by a pair of swinging shutters that acted like half doors that blocked the casual passer's view of the inside, but didn't go to the floor. They were kept meticulously unoiled so that every person who walked in was announced by a screech. 

Of course, I was a dwarf, and ducking below these without making a scene was pretty easy for me--and I really didn't want to attract anyone's attention but the bartender's. 

I took a seat at the bar and the young man stepped over. "Hero, wasn't it?"

"You've got a good memory for someone who sells the drink to take memories away."

"Well, I don't drink the stuff myself. You up for an ale, beer, or something harder?"

"Ale. Sour sounds about right." Yes, I was still upset about the Master's magic thingie. I hate being manipulated. Feelings, included. Feelings especially.

"Comin' to ya." He filled a mug and slid it expertly down the counter, then walked over, grinning at himself. "All the town's here talkin' tonight about the explosion up at the Kinden place. Word has it you were there."

"Might've been."

"Don't look hurt."

"You should see the other guy."

The tender laughed. "Drink that cup and I'll keep 'em coming if you'll fill us in on what's going on."

Well--I mean, it was a free drink, and the strings weren't onerous. 

"Yeah, alright."

"Hey, pipe down!" he yelled to the crowd. "We've got a witness here!" The crowd slowly silenced and all eyes turned to me. The bartender chuckled. "Alright, spill it."

Suddenly, I wasn't sure how much I could spill without endangering my contract. But the thought occurred to me that enlisting the aid of the townsfolk might not be a bad idea. No time to really weigh those out. 

"Yeah, well, I mean, I was there. The brother's house exploded, and I woke up in a medical tent with busted eardrums and bandages on my eyes."

I think someone dropped a pin in the corner and I did hear it.

"And they patched me up, magically, and here I am now."

A voice in the crowd grumbled, "We can see that. But what caused the explosion?"

Ah. Hmm. "I'm not sure how much I can share about that." This met with a lot more grumbles. I was losing the crowd.

"Look, what we wants to know is is there going to be a big fight or not?"

Someone else said, "Is someone trying to take over the foundry?"

Another voice: "Was our Jerry among the wounded? Ain't seen Jerry since yesterday."

And more and more. Questioned piled on.

The bartender intervened. "Okay, okay. We've got a lot of questions. But this stranger doesn't know your Jerry, Martha. And I doubt she knows anything much beyond what happened today."

I nodded at him, thankful for the assist. "Look, all I know for sure is that the Master's brother is on the run, south I hear, and we want to catch him alive before--and here I had a thought that might have been pure lie, but might have been just true enough to be concerning--before anyone else does. The Master thinks his brother can explain what's going on."

The crowd mulled this over. 

"I think I saw him an' his crew over by my farm midday," said someone. 

"Yeah, that was him. Came by my place. Didn't even wave. Used to wave, that boy."

"You think the brother is responsible for the explosion?" That was directed at me.

"Uh. Me, personally? I think it's too early to say. It might be, but it might also have been a trap that he narrowly escaped."

That got a lot of hushed voices talking. Finally a deep voice with a long bear to match said, "You think it's the Smokers?"

"I don't know. There was some talk about them, but I don't know them personally. But we could use all the help we can get from the town to get that brother, because if it is the Smokers, then you're all in trouble." That got the conversation started down the right direction. I mean, lying is more Sasha's thing, but I'm a thief, I can do it. And it wasn't entirely a lie. 

 "Well, that's a twelve-hour headstart's all," said one slurred voice. "With sleep 'n' all, that's easy to make up with a wagon."

"Who's got a wagon they can spare?" 

"I do!" 

"Anyone got fresh horses?"

"There's a pair out front, from the Kinden place."

All eyes back on me.

"Yeah. The Master sent me to get help and, hey, if you've got a wagon, I've got the horses."

"Hoo-ee, it's a chase! Go get that wagon and fasten them horses up!"

"Finish your drinks and grab your pitchforks an' torches! And horses, if you have 'em!"

I've never seen a crowd so excited for a midnight ride. 

The bartender wiped down the counter. "Well, I hope that was what you were aiming for."

"I was just going upstairs to grab my friend, but...are these people capable of catching the brother? 

"Oh, we've had livestock get loose before, run amok all over the place. Took a day and a half to find them all, and some had gotten a good ways gone. These folk'll work night and day to find the brother and bring him safely back."

"What if he doesn't want to come back?"

"Well--I hear the Kindens have some mighty powerful weapons. These folks don't. So...."

I gulped. It was sour. But the bile rising in my throat tasted worse. "Shit. It's a massacre."

I jumped down from my seat and ran upstairs. "Sasha!" I grabbed at the door, but it was locked. "Sasha, I need you! We need you! The town needs you!"

The room was suspiciously silent as I caught my breath. Then I heard a creak, a few creaks. Some hurried tinkling of coins quietly being put in a bag. After a moment, the door opened a crack. "Can I help you?" asked the elf.

"Sasha, knock it off. We've got to help these people."

A deep voice from behind her said, "Who's Sasha? This is Tina." Her eyes narrowed meaningfully.

"OH! Oh, sorry. What room is this? Seven? I thought it said one. My bad. Carry on. I tiptoed away as Sasha's eyes tried to relay the importance of not blowing her cover.

"Not a problem. Good luck with Sasha." The door shut, locked, and the creaking resumed. The sound of coins landing on a wooden table told me the game was back on and Sasha was definitely NOT available.

Antisocial indeed!

I loudly clomped down the stairs. The bartender noted my angry face. "So that's a no on the help, then?"

"That's a no." I sat at a table and threw my face into my palms. Tears may have come out, but I was not crying.

"Look," said the bartender whose name I still didn't know. "It'll take the locals a bit to get that wagon here and hook up the horses. Maybe your friend will come round, but if it'll keep my customers from an untimely death, I have a horse out back you can borrow."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Well, ride ahead and try to find the brother before they do?"

"And then what? Convince him to come back peacefully?"

"Well, yeah."

"Maybe you'd better do it. At least you have drink."

The bartender laughed. "Hey, if it'll help, tell them they've won a free round on the house. I'll do my part."

"You're awful helpful, mister...?"

"They call me "Rob. As in, "That bartender's robbin' me." 

We chuckled. "Yeah, okay, what's your real name?"

"Er...Peaceriver."

"What?"

"Peaceriver Purity."

"You're kidding, right? Like, were your parents on some sort of religious retreat or something?"

"Nah. They named all their kids after the place they were conceived."

My eyes practically flew out of their sockets. I was glad I wasn't drinking.

"Of all the cruel jokes...did your parents not want you?"

"No, no. They were just...scientists. Not very creative, but very literal. I'm actually going to college myself, and then there's my brother, Snugglewatch and my sister Southwatch. We're all lookin' to follow in our parents' shoes. I'm just on holiday up here visiting my gran' and they needed a tender, so I took this job."

I shook my head. What a world to live in. You have to know your geography just to get around your family. "I think I'll stick with Rob."

"It does have a nice ring to it."

"All right, Rob, there's no rest for the weary. Show me this horse."