Chapter Twenty-Five - The Start of a Good Day

I woke up to a triple-tap, knuckled on wood. “Miss Norwood?” a feminine voice asked.

My hand snapped out and grabbed my gun, then I looked around, I took in my inn room. Wooden beams on the ceiling, a magic-powered fan turning idly above and swirling the already-muggy air... no one in sight. I let the revolver clatter back onto the night-stand.

“I heard ya,” I called out as I stretched and then stayed on the bed, luxuriating on being able to rest with my back straight on a padded mattress. I scratched at my stomach, shifted a bit more, then sighed. I’d drank too much beer the night before. I had to visit the privy soon.

Standing up, I rubbed at my face, then got to doing my business.

It took maybe half an hour for me to get all dressed and ready. Belt and gun buckled on, rifle slung over my back. Opening the window shutters and looking out showed me that Rusty was still sitting pretty, though he was now covered by a nice layer of dust.

The sky was brightening, but was still grey and overcast, and from the way the stray sands were moving below, there was still a good bit of wind out.

I shrugged my coat on, made sure my hat was on tight and that my mask was resting over my collar.

Stepping out, I found the corridor mostly empty. A pair of serving girls were chatting at the end of the hall, and they giggled about something as I stepped by them and nodded their way.

The main room was nearly full. Every seat was taken, and some folk had started to eat standing up or sitting on the edge of the stage where someone with a bango was playing a little ditty to the tune of others laughing it up.

I snorted when I saw a poster of Clin on one wall, now with a mustache added on, and a poorly drawn hat atop his head. Someone had been having fun.

No gnomes in sight. At least, none in the livery of the Shadow Nation.

“Hey Juvenal,” I said as I paused by the bar. The barkeep nodded to me. “Got anything to spare for breaking fast?”

“Not a damned thing,” he said. “Got beer though.”

“Nah, best not,” I replied. “Get me a bottle of water.” I reached over between two heavy-set guys in the red livery of the Beetle clan and slapped a copper on the counter. Juvenal reached over to a fridge behind him, grabbed a bottle, and set it next to my coin a moment before it disappeared.

“Heading out?” he asked.

“Storm’s passed?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it might not be the last of it. Heard speak that it was a two-front.”

“Huh,” I said. “Well, I need to move in either case. Where are the gnomes at?”

“Pissed off this morning, as soon as the storm let up. Making a nuisance of themselves around town.”

“Fidiots,” I muttered. “Well, I’m off.”

The barkeep nodded. “Stay safe,” he said before stepping off to get to someone else waving at him.

I moved towards the doors while popping the cap off my bottle and taking a swig. Fresh, clean water, just shy of freezing. It was refreshing, especially as I stepped out into the blistering heat of the full day.

Lowering my hat a bit, I squinted across the yard at the back of the saloon and noted that one of the gnomish troop transports was still nearby. Its rear section was opened up, revealing twin rows of seats and racks for rifles and gear within. No gnomes around it though. Were they trying to tempt someone with sticking fingers to come around and try their hand at grabbing the gear?

I moved over to Rusty, then paused as I finally found the gnomes. At least, two of them.

Both were in the simple uniforms of low-ranking soldiers, one with a little badge on a lapel that marked him as some sort of NCO. “Hello ma’am,” he said as I came closer. “Are you about to take one of these mecha out?”

“Maybe I am, what’s it to you?”

“We will inspect it first,” he said.

I blinked. “Oh? Will you now?” I asked.

He nodded. “We have orders from high command to inspect every civilian mecha and vehicle moving around Mortarview. We’re searching for a hardened criminal.” He reached into a tube on his belt, but I waved him off.

“The elf. I saw the posters. He’s not in my mecha,” I said. “I leave the door locked.” Well, it locked from the inside, but I was pretty sure Clin was clever enough to lock it up.

“Yes, we noticed,” the soldier said.

“You tried to get into my property?” I asked.

“We have orders,” he said, as if that made everything right.

“Your orders can get fucked,” I replied, perfectly civil-like. “This isn’t a gnomish city, and your high command couldn’t give you permission to kiss my ass.”

The gnomes both looked as if I’d told them that their mothers were putting on a special for all the town’s boys. I didn’t have time for their crap, so I shoved past on my way to Rusty’s berth. The boy I’d seen the night before was there, standing awkwardly by the side of the gantries.

“Did you see these two twits trying to get into my mech?” I asked him.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he replied. “I warned them that you’d shoot any thieves, but they insisted. Said they wouldn’t take anything, and, ah, they couldn’t get in.”

“Good lad,” I said before I heard feet thumping up behind me. I turned to see the soldiers catching up, their short gnomish feet having a hard time with my longer stride. “Didn’t I tell you two to piss off?” I asked.

“We need to inspect your mecha,” the same fidiot said.

“No. You don’t. Go bother someone else.”

“We will be inspecting your mech,” he insisted as he placed a hand on the gun by his hip.

I considered my chances.

They weren’t all that great.

“Fine,” I said. “Go ahead of me.”

They little bastards were clever, at least. One ran up ahead of me, the other followed as I made my way up the steps leading to Rusty’s front. I could see the gantry boy wringing his hands together below, like someone that knew something bad was going down, but who was powerless to stop it.

We reached Rusty in due time, and the two soldiers decided to station themselves on either side of me. “You know, I’ll be raising up a fuss with the city later,” I said.

“The concerns of Mortarview’s council aren’t ours to deal with,” one of them said. “The Shadow doesn’t bow to such a small place, no matter how many little mortars they have.”

I shook my head. “Your funeral,” I said. A tug at Rusty’s front revealed it to be properly locked from within. I placed a hand on the little rectangular plate opening at the front, and slid it aside before bringing my face closer.

There wasn’t anyone inside.

I frowned, then noticed a bit of cloth dangling to the side and angled my eyes up to see Clin hanging near the ceiling.

Almost clever.

“Are you going to open it?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get sand in your crotch.” I slid my arm out from my duster and into the slit in Rusty’s front, then I reached around and undid the lock. I pulled my arm out, and started to put my coat back on when one of the gnomes started to reach for the door. “I will open it,” I warned.

The soldier, who I decided to name Bossy backed off.

I grabbed the exterior handle, and pulled the door open. “See, nothing,” I said as a wave of humid warmth escaped Rusty’s interior. It smelled like sweaty elf.

“Hmm,” Bossy stepped up while his partner stayed by my side. “Yeah, it seems clear. You didn’t have to give us this much trouble if you knew you had nothing to hi--”

Clin crashed down, smacking into Rusty’s floor with a bang and a swear.

We all stared.

“Whelp,” I said.

I swung my arm around, backhanding the soldier next to me in the face before I kicked to the side and smacked him in the knee with the heel of my boot. He shouted, but it sounded more like a squeaky klaxon than a proper scream.

Bossy grabbed for his gun, but not before Clin kicked out and hit him in the shin.

He stumbled backwards, looked like he was going to regain his balance. I wrapped a hand around his neck and thrust him into the rail opposite Rusty. It clanged.

The gnome with the broken nose fumbled his gun out of his holster. I gave up on Bossy, letting him enjoy his fresh headache, grabbed no-nose by the wrist, and pulled him into my opposite arm’s elbow.

I hissed as his cheek cracked against my funny bone.

He gurgled something, his gun clattering to the ground as he reached up to his face.

I took just a moment to get my feet under me, then I shoved him in the chest. His eyes went wide a moment before he windmilled on the edge of the gantry.

It wasn’t enough to stop him from tumbling back.

He clanged and banged all the way down the steps.

Bossy was choking. I might’ve crushed his windpipe a bit with my rough treatment. He barely fought me as I grabbed him by the lapels, lifted him up onto the edge of the rail, then shoved him back.

He crashed onto the sand below with a dull thump.

I waited, watching the two gnomes for any sign of a fight left in them, then turned to Clin. “Clumsy fidiot, aren’t you?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Uh... good morning?”

***