a man holding a cleaver, with tree-trunk arms covered with deep, parallel scars, a short zebra-striped beard and spiky hair, and a jagged scar across the face through one marled eye. He looked down at them without saying a word, his arms folded across his barrel chest.
"Ah, my good man," Sunny said in a parody of a high class accent, as she ran a hand through her huge mane of gamboge hair, "I will take a cup of sassafras tea, with a drop of honey, a lemon slice, and a peppermint stick, and a piece of chocolate schnapps cherry torte."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, but Eile could tell his frown looked displeased rather than puzzled.
"Put a sock in it, ya ditz."
Sunny simply crinkled her eyes and giggled.
She sighed in resignation. Sunny liked to play games, and it sometimes got them into trouble, but, she reflected, she actually enjoyed her antics.
Addressing the barkeep she said, "Two ales."
"House brew?" he rumbled.
She waved a hand in a nonchalant manner. "Yeah, yeah, as long as it's wet."
He lowered his arms and rested the edge of the cleaver on the counter. "Let's see your money."
She shrugged and looked at Sunny. As she started to open a purse, a figure walked up between them.
"Allow me, Edjertan." And he held out a gold crown.
Eile turned to get a good look at him. He was head and shoulders taller than they were, but thin, though with good muscle tone. He wore an open reddish coat trimmed with white fur at the collar, over an ornate linen and silk tunic incorporating various shades of green. A leather belt banded in metal, hose, and shoes with pointed toes completed the ensemble. A bicorn hat covered his collar-length, stringy brown hair, and he sported a long goatee trimmed with ringlets. What struck Eile as most unusual, however, was that his gray eyes were lined, with vertical stripes painted over the lids from forehead to cheek and thin lines drawn off the corners of his mouth.
A dandy, she decided, like the one described by the desk clerk.
As the bartender took the offered coin, Eile gazed past their benefactor at Sunny, who winked. Eile realized she understood that if he was the person who had left the letter and purse, most likely his gesture was no chivalrous act, but an attempt to ingratiate himself.
Edjertan held the coin between his thumb and forefinger, and flexed, bending it in half. He grunted, slipped it into the pocket of his apron, and headed into a back room at the rear of the bar.
The dandy stepped back and they turned to face him.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said in a sing-song voice, removing his hat and making a short bow, "I am Ravaroc, raconteur and rascal."
She couldn't help smiling as Sunny grinned. Rascal was right.
Sunny offered her hand as he replaced his hat. "I'm White-Lion, and this is my partner, Braveheart!"
Eile smirked as he feigned surprise. He was also a good actor, she'd give him that.
"Surely not the legendary intrepid and daring Amazons known as Team Girl!"
"Yep, that's us!" Sunny squealed.
He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he lowered his head and kissed her fingers. Eile noted that the backs of his hands were tattooed, and each finger had a ring.
"Oh, my!" Sunny tittered, blushing.
A buxom blonde barmaid, whose bulging bosom threatened to burst out of her low-cut bodice, approached and placed three foaming pewter steins on the counter behind them. As Sunny regained her composure, Eile passed one to Ravaroc, and she and Sunny took the other two.
"I was not aware you were Dreamers." He absently scratched at his long, pointed nose.
That caught Eile by surprise. Few people made that connection that fast.
Sunny snapped her head up, a foam mustache on her upper lip. "How'd you guess?!"
"From your deportment and manner of speech." He took a sip of his brew as Sunny licked off the foam. "What era are you from?"
"Early twenty-first century," Eile replied. She wanted to say as little as possible. Unlike in the Dreamlands, where they had allies and protectors, they could be vulnerable to a hostile Dreamer in the Waking World.
"Are you a Dreamer?" Sunny asked.
"Alas, no; Dreamworld born and bred. How long have you been coming here?"
"Huh, it's gotta be, what, sixty days now?" Eile said.
"This is our sixty-fourth night," Sunny corrected.
"So that's almost thirty Dream-years, though our accumulated time would only be about ten."
"Ten years." He managed to sound marveled. "You two must have had many bold adventures."
She exchanged grins with Sunny. "We've had a few," Sunny remarked in a coy fashion, after which she took a long swallow.
"I would love to hear some of your more exciting tales. I would be honored to add them to my repertoire."
She glanced at Sunny, who smiled and nodded. "Sure, why not, but we'd like ta sit down if it's all the same ta you."
"Of course. I have a table reserved. It's over here." And he turned and headed towards a back corner. She flashed a skeptical smirk; she doubted a dump like that took reservations, but she and Sunny trailed along after him.
She felt only mildly surprised when she saw that two other people already occupied his table. Sunny flashed a sideways smirk, and she realized her partner suspected what she did, that Ravaroc must have been hired by their mystery letter-writer to contact them and size them up before bringing them together.
One of the pair sat while the other stood behind her with his back to the corner. She appeared to be a very elegant lady, late middle-aged but looking younger, with bright turquoise eyes and wavy shoulder-length autumn-red-gold hair framing a round, rosy-pink, chubby-cheeked face. Though she wore a plain dark cloak over her shoulders, Eile could tell her body matched her face, having plenty of soft curves; bred for pleasure rather than work or combat. She caught glimpses of a rich satin gown trimmed with ermine and silk peaking through the cloak's open front. Her companion, shrouded in gray, masked and gloved, might have been a statue except for the way his stone-gray eyes tracked everything that went on around the table.
Ravaroc made another exaggerated sweeping gesture towards the seated woman. "Team Girl, allow me to introduce the Lady Belatria Countess m'Esad."
As usual, Sunny stated the blindingly obvious: "You wrote the letter, and had Ravaroc drop it off at the inn along with the retainer."
She smiled. "Correct." She spoke in a liquid, languid voice. "Please, have a seat."
Eile glanced at Sunny, who crinkled her eyes and nodded.
She shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not." She sat in the closest chair as her partner took the one beside her. She noted that Ravaroc took a position directly behind them.
"Soooo," Sunny said, "what can we do for you?"
"I would like to hire your services as adventurers."
Eile waited for her to continue, but when m'Esad didn't she shrugged again. "We kinda figured that. What sort of adventure?"
"I need you to get me access to a sacred site."
Once again she failed to elaborate. Eile felt her frustration rise. "What sorta site?"
"An ancient ruined temple, located in the south of the Six Kingdoms."
She sighed. She got the distinct impression that m'Esad had expected they would jump at the chance without question. "What for?"
For the first time m'Esad's expression turned displeased. "That is my business. All you need to worry about is getting into the inner sanctum."
She exchanged another glance with Sunny, and she saw from her partner's expression that she too had realized further negotiations would be fruitless. She nodded, and Sunny retrieved a small leather bag from her belt. She tossed it onto the table as they both stood up.
M'Esad flashed an angry look. "And just where do you two think you're going!"
"Look, it's obvious this isn't gonna work out. Sorry we wasted yer time."
Ravaroc placed a hand on their shoulders, as if to push them back into their seats. They both elbowed him
in the abdomen so hard that he gave out with a sharp grunt and backed away as he doubled over.
M'Esad stood up in a hasty manner. "Wait a minute! I don't understand."
"We don't operate blind, lady. You wanna keep secrets? Fine, but not from us. You either take us inta yer confidence, or we walk."
"What difference should it make? You're paid --"
"We're paid ta risk our necks for others, but we'll decide when and where, and this isn't it; not under these circumstances."
"El Dorado, Paramount Pictures, 1966, directed by Howard Hawks; starring John Wayne and Robert Mitchum."
M'Esad did a double-take, then frowned in a derisive manner at Sunny and focused her attention on Eile. "What makes you think there's any risk involved?"
She and Sunny barked laughs. "Yer kiddin', right? If there was no risk you wouldn't be tryin' ta hire us. Plus, yer tryin' ta keep yer purpose a secret. That registers an eight-point-oh on the suspicion scale all by itself. That most likely means that whatever yer up to, we doubt it's anything legitimate, and it probably ain't legal, either. That makes some element of risk virtually certain."
"I assure you --"
"Don't bother; it doesn't matter. Look, Sunny and I aren't squeamish. We don't care if it's illegal, though we draw the line at pillage, rape, and murder. But you gotta spill it all, otherwise no deal. You willin' ta do that?"
M'Esad displayed a frustrated sneer that indicated she didn't know how to respond, but didn't want to appear weak.
"Fine. Whatever."
"It's probably just as well," Sunny said, "because we'll be leaving in the morning, after we finish some quick business."
They turned to leave, but Ravaroc blocked their way.
"I