MT Part 7 (VG)
"I think we just about are, dear Sascha," Zanadar answered, "It seems we've just got two small issues to resolve before we're on our way. Maybe you could help us out."
"If this is some kind of trick..." she said dangerously, trailing off.
The big man laughed. "No tricks, I promise."
"Then what is it?" she asked suspiciously.
"Well," he began, "first, it seems our new young companion here is under the impression I'm going to let him pay for this absolutely delicious meal you've provided for us. Now, I tried to tell him that I would take care of it but he's insisting that he pay his share. Would you please be so kind as to tell him that I always pay?"
Sascha brightened a bit and looked to Morgan. "Zanadar always pays," she said sweetly, "because Elandar never can."
"See?" Zanadar said to the ranger, interrupting Elandar's lively protest, "I told you I always pay."
"That doesn't settle anything. I could have told you Elandar never paid for anything before you even asked Sascha," he said, as the old wizard sputtered indignantly, "And you can pay for Elandar if that makes you happy, but I will be paying my own way."
"Morgan, is it?" Sascha asked.
Morgan nodded, "Yes."
"He's impossible," she said knowingly, "believe me, he will not quit. I suggest you just let him pay for you and then try not to kill him when he acts all smug about it."
Morgan frowned. "Fine," he said after a moment, "But only if I can pay for the room tonight."
Her smile faded immediately, "Room tonight? I thought you said you were leaving?" She looked to Zanadar, "You said you were leaving!"
The big man leaned back in his chair. "It's so nice to be appreciated, you know. People can try to say that it doesn't matter, but they're just being humble. When someone loves your company this much..." he gestured at Sascha, "it really is heartwarming."
"You said you were leaving!" Sascha insisted.
"Well that was actually the second bit. You see, we're about to undertake a perilous, and very heroic mission to save the world," Zanadar explained, "but after thinking about it we decided it would be really very nice if we could get a good night's rest, just one last time, on a nice, soft bed before we go. Now, this fine establishment has rooms, I've stayed here before. So we figured... we're already here, why not just stay?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"You act all mean and tough," Zanadar said pleasantly, "but I know you'd be disappointed if we left."
"Oh I simply do not know what I'd do," Sascha responded, her voice laced in sarcasm. She sighed dramatically, "How many rooms do you need?"
"Two." the big man answered cheerfully, "That way Morgan can pay for his own still."
"That was a mean trick," Morgan accused.
Zanadar grinned. "I know, I'm a mean person."
"Our last two rooms for tonight," Sascha said. She held out her opened hand expectantly, "And not that I don't trust you, of course. But we'll need that upfront."
"Oh, of course," Zanadar replied, counting out a small number of coins. He piled them neatly in Sascha's outstretched hand and smiled, "There you go!"
"Thanks," she said with a forced smile. She turned to Morgan, who was loosening the strings on his coinpurse, "And you," she continued, "can pay in the morning." With that, Sascha turned neatly on her heals and went back to the kitchen.
Morgan looked up in bewilderment, "Well, she seems nice enough."
The big man frowned, "She did that out of spite, you know."
"Maybe she just likes me more."
Elandar narrowed his eyes, "No, that couldn't be it."
Zanadar took one last drink from his tankard and set it down on the table. "Well," he said standing up, "We'd best be off then. There aren't many things that I need to get before we go, but I'd like to get as much sleep as possible tonight. So let's get moving."
The three men gathered up their belongings and exited the tavern. A brisk sea breeze greeted them as they emerged back onto the streets of New Targonor. Although evening was fast approaching, the sun still shown brightly and the city streets remained a hive of activity.
"What do you need to get, Morgan?" Zanadar asked.
"The only thing I really need to do is notify the stablemaster at the keep that we'll need our horses ready for tomorrow morning." He tapped the large traveling back slung over his shoulder, "I've got just about everything else I need in here."
"Good," the big man said. He glanced at Elandar, "most people don't come that prepared."
"Don't you look at me that way, I've got everything I need!"
"Anyway," Zanadar said, ignoring the wizard, "the smithy isn't far from your stables. We can stop there on the way."
"Fair enough," Morgan replied, "what do you need from the smithy?"
The big man tugged at the hilt of one of the large swords strapped across his back. "Repairs," he answered slyly.
Zanadar lead the way into the crowded streets, maneuvering with surprising agility through the throngs of people. Morgan struggled to keep up, dodging in and out of the way of workers and pushcarts. He was sure they would lose the grumpy old wizard moving at this speed, but every time he looked back to check, Elandar still followed closely, muttering to himself all the while. The old man certainly had spirit, Morgan gave him that.
At their pace, it was not long before they were standing in front of a slightly run down, old looking building. Its two stories were splotched with dark smoke spots and the tiled windows were covered by a thin layer of ash. The piercing, heavy metallic clang of metal striking metal rang out from inside the building, sending vibrations down Morgan's spine. Zanadar opened the door, just as another loud strike rang out from inside. Morgan winced involuntarily as he covered his ringing ears and followed the big man into the smithy.
The blacksmith's forge was dimly lit, and smelt of burning coals. A grimy smoke wafted through the air and seemed to stick upon everything it touched. Racks stuffed with various weapons and tools lined the walls and a long wooden counter split the room in two. Metal spikes and bolts lay strewn across its scarred top. Behind it an aging, barrel chested man stood hunched over the forge, his back to the door. He held in one hand a large hammer. The other was wrapped in a dirty looking rag and clung tightly to an iron handle protruding from the pulsing orange glow of the forge. He drew back the hammer to strike at the hot ember once more.
"Ho there, Grodek!" Zanadar called out.
The blacksmith brought the hammer crashing down, filling the room with a shrill ringing as sparks leapt silently away from his blow.
"I said, ho there, Grodek!" Zanadar called out again.
The smith brought his hammer clanging down upon the forge another time, paying the big man no attention. Zanadar frowned. Elandar muttered under his breath and pushed to the front, making his way towards the counter.
"Why do I always have to do everything myself?" he grumbled as he snatched one of the large metal bolts from the countertop and flung it at the oblivious blacksmith. The bolt sailed across the room and collided against the smithy's backside with a dull thud.
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