whereabouts, or be prepared to meet two of the Hall’s most reputable mercenaries and one of the most feared assassins, no less than one minute after you leave this place.’
He bowed. ‘Please have refreshments as my guest.’ He signaled a small man and said something to him, indicating that a round of drinks should be produced. ‘Should you need quarters for a time, you’ll find us reasonable. If not, I trust you’ll enjoy yourself as long as you’re here, and return to us soon.’ He bowed, tipping his white hat, and left to return to the bar and his conversation with the four-eyed man, who had just returned from whatever errand he had been on.
Blood let out his breath in a dramatic fashion. ‘What do you choose to do?’ he asked.
‘I intend to keep looking. I mean Pug no harm.’
‘Would he think that?’
‘We’ve never met. I know him by name only. But he would not think me dangerous, I know.’
‘I’ve never met him, either, but John recognized his name instantly. That means his reputation is spreading, and for that to occur in the Hall, one must possess a significant level of gifts. For him to worry about being followed …’ He shrugged.
Miranda was inclined to take Boldar at face value, and nothing he had said was inclining her to suspect him; still, the stakes were too high for her to take chances. She said, ‘If he doesn’t want to be followed, enough to take such precautions, how would one follow his trail?’
Boldar blew out his cheeks. ‘There are several oracles …’
‘I’ve consulted with the Oracle of Aal.’
‘If she doesn’t know, then none of them do,’ he observed. ‘There’s the Toymaker.’
‘Who is he?’
‘A creator of devices, several of which may be used to spy out people who don’t wish to be seen. But he’s somewhat mad and therefore undependable.’
‘Who else?’
The waiter appeared with a round of drinks, placing a frosty mug of something that looked like ale before Boldar and a large crystal goblet before Miranda. He made a show of unfolding napkins and placing one in Miranda’s lap and the other in Boldar’s. He said, ‘Compliments of my master,’ and withdrew.
The wine was delicious and Miranda drank deeply, discovering she was quite thirsty – and hungry.
‘There’s Querl Dagat,’ said Boldar. ‘He deals in information; the more improbable, the better he likes it … as long as it’s true. For that reason, he’s a full cut above the average rumormonger hereabouts.’
Miranda picked up her napkin to blot her lips, and a folded piece of paper fell to the floor. She looked down, then at Boldar, who bent over and picked it up. He handed it to her unopened.
She took it and unfolded it to find a single word. ‘Who’s Mustafa?’ she asked.
Boldar slammed his hand down upon the table. ‘The very fellow we must see.’
He glanced around and said, ‘Up there,’ pointing to the gallery.
He rose and Miranda followed; they wended their way through the press of tables and alien bodies. Reaching a stairway, they climbed to the first of the two overhanging galleries. Miranda was surprised to discover that the gallery was but one side of a wide promenade, which had large corridors stretching away. ‘Is all this part of the Inn?’
Boldar said, ‘Certainly.’
‘How big is it?’
‘Only Honest John knows for certain.’ He led her past booths offering all manner of goods and services, several lewd, a score or more clearly illegal anywhere Miranda had ever been, and many incomprehensible. ‘Rumor has it that John was a barkeep on his homeworld who was run out of his birth city over some dispute. A roving band of some sort of aboriginal people chased him, and he blundered into the entrance to the Hall. As fate would have it, he appeared in the Hall in the midst of a battle. It has been said that, not knowing any better, he jumped into the void opposite the door he had entered, discovering the first entrance into the stable place in which the Inn is now housed.’
Boldar moved down a side corridor. ‘He blundered around in a strange darkness, then somehow found his way back to the Hall, moving back to his homeworld once he was certain the aborigines were gone and returning to his birth city. Over the years he came back to the Hall, exploring and trading. When he finally had some sense of the society within the Hall, he decided the Inn was what would make him rich. He made some deals, hired some workers, and returned here to establish his small inn. He’s added onto it over the years, until now it’s a small township. Whenever he adds onto the building, he encounters no limit to the size he can increase his holdings, or at least not so far.’
‘Has it?’
‘What?’
‘Made John rich?’
Boldar laughed, and again Miranda was struck by how boyish the mercenary looked. ‘I suspect that by any reasonable measure, John is the richest man in creation. He could buy and sell worlds should he choose. But like most of us, he’s found that after a while riches are only a means to keep oneself amused or to keep tally on how well one does in the various games and transactions in the Hall.’
Reaching a doorway hung with a curtain, Boldar called, ‘Mustafa, are you in?’
‘Who wants to know?’
That got a laugh from Boldar, who swept aside the curtain, indicating Miranda should enter. She did and found herself inside a small room with but a single table, upon which a solitary candle burned. Otherwise, the room was without distinction – no wall hangings or other furniture, just another door in the wall facing the one through which they’d entered.
A man stood behind the table, his face nearly black, like aged and oiled leather. A white beard adorned his cheeks and chin, though his upper lip was shaven, and his head was covered with a green turban. He bowed. ‘Peace be upon you,’ he said in the language of the Jalpur.
‘Upon you be peace,’ answered Miranda.
‘You seek Pug of Stardock?’ he asked.
Miranda nodded. Glancing at Boldar, she raised an eyebrow in question.
Boldar said, ‘Mustafa’s a fortune-teller.’
Mustafa said, ‘You must first cross my palm with gold.’ He held out his hand. Miranda reached into her belt and withdrew a coin, placing it upon his hand. He put it in his own belt pouch without looking at it. ‘What do you seek?’
‘I just told you!’
Mustafa said, ‘You need to say it aloud!’
Fighting off irritation at what she thought was needless show to convince gullible travelers, Miranda said, ‘I need to find Pug of Stardock.’
‘Why?’
Miranda said, ‘That is my business, but the need is great.’
‘Many look for this man. He has taken precautions against being followed by those he would rather not encounter. How may I know you are not such a one?’
Miranda said, ‘One may vouch for me, but he is back upon the world of Midkemia: Tomas, friend of Pug.’
The Dragon Rider.’ Mustafa nodded. ‘That is a name few would know who meant to harm Pug.’
‘Where might I find him?’
‘He seeks alliances and goes to speak with the gods. Seek him in the Celestial City, in the Hall of the Gods Awaiting.’
Miranda said, ‘How do I get there?’
‘Return to Midkemia,’ answered Mustafa, ‘and get you to the land of Novindus. In the great mountains, the Pillars of the Stars, find the Necropolis, the home of the Dead Gods. There, atop the