River traffic increased as they approached Rancide. They saw all manner of crafts. Small flatboats were most common but there were canoes and some more elaborate boats. There were roads on both sides of the river and frequent docks. The city-state Rancide was old. She had endured many conflicts. There were still standing sections of walls that had been unable to deter earlier invaders. There were no great armies in the East now. At least they knew of none. The Baron Munch Housen’s family had dominated the politics of Rancide for ten generations. The current Baron was strong but not charismatic. He was shrewd and had come out ahead in most of his dealings with the other Barons. He had a force of well paid mercenaries that kept the general order.
The taverns of Rancide were frequented by riff raff and hard working patrons. The innkeepers hired “regulators” to maintain order in their establishments. Morck Bhroades was a cagy and successful merchant. He claimed to have the oldest inn in Rancide. The Dead End Inn was said to stand at the same site of the ancient Do Drop Inn from which the assassin Tigarn disappeared centuries before. Morck played on these stories to increase the prestige of his establishment. If competitors got too successful, they might meet with an accident- a fire, a robbery, a broken leg, or some misfortune. Travelers were always at risk in Rancide- travelers minimized their risk by staying at the oldest and most heavily guarded inns. A few Dakin in the right place always helped.
Nigel bartered with the dock master. The bluewood outriggers were drawing a lot of attention. So were the females. The locals were particularly interested in Cyttia. None had ever seen a Draith. Although only half-Draith Cyttia bore the dominant traits of her father’s people. She towered over the Easterners. Only Big Jon was taller. Her long white locks contrasted with her bronze skin. She had some unmistakably elfish features and many eyes wandered over her powerful physique. Cara, Erinnia, Kyrsstina, Knarra, and Lyana Rikmon tried to remain inconspicuous. Beauty was unfortunately hard to overcome. Roscoe leaned on his staff. He didn’t have to work hard to appear to be an elderly traveler. Eyerthrein and Dael shuffled their sandals, kicked dirt, and pretended to make small talk. Big Jon Loxly was taller than most of the Easterners but his simple garb fit in well. Vanni and Eomore pretended to be father and son; in some ways it was easy because they were father and son; in other ways it was difficult because they were king and prince; they created a ruse by wearing the simple clothes they had obtained in Three Forks. Cade blended in easily; he was similarly dressed to the many small groups of elves coming and going. Boomer stood out like a sore thumb.
Several roguish Easterners gathered around the dwarf.
The gruffest easterner said, “You aren’t from around here are you shortie?”
“I’ve heard that dwarves are sneaky little cowards,” another added.
“I’m thirsty. Why don’t you buy me, no, buy us, drinks?” another said.
Nigel finished his bartering and rushed over to Boomer. He spoke to the Easterners.
“Fellows, please don’t take advantage of my servant. He is mentally challenged. He can only perform simple tasks. Here, go have some drinks,” Nigel said as he gave the burly men a handful of Dakin.
The Easterners did not realize that those same Dakin had resided in their own pockets a few moments earlier. Nigel’s pick pocketing skills were second to none.
“He does look rather pitiful,” the first easterner said as he looked at Boomer.
Nigel continued, “Yes. There’s no sport in picking on him. I‘ll have him clean up after your horses. Go. Enjoy yourselves.”
The easterner slapped Nigel on the back and laughed. They walked away.
Boomer was steaming as he said, “Dawg gone you, Louffette!! You’re lucky I promised Knarra and Cara not to fight unless I had too. I’m fixing to kick your butt!”
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