He dumps a rather large hand full of coins into my open palms and I am torn. It is both a relief to see it, and a tragedy of my conscience to know how I had come to it.
We had decidedly surprised each other, though I clearly had the upper hand when I arrived in the room. It took me far less time to adjust to my arrival than it did him. 'How?! how did you get in here?' he had demanded of me, more than once. 'I have recently learned, sometimes, it is better not to know everything' was the only reply I would give him. The incident, left him glowering and mistrustful of me, and somehow, I enjoyed it. It felt good to have the upper hand again, if only briefly.
We pushed past my unannounced appearance, and I moved on to the fact that he was HERE instead of cooling his heels in a jail cell down at the city stockade. 'How did you get out?' I pressed, just as curious as he was, I too wanted to know just exactly what had gone on since we parted ways a few hours ago. His explanation was quick, practiced and plausible and so, I let him have his secret.
We both decided we had earned our rest, and he wandered off to wherever it was he laid his head for the night and I slipped into bed and was out before my head hit the pillow. Somehow, I had trouble sleeping, the bed itself seeming to be the problem and finally I ended up on the floor with the blanket for the last few hours of the night.
A sharp rap at the door jolts me awake, 'lunch!' the familiar voice calls through the wooden barrier and I hear his foot steps creaking down the hallway as he departs. I sigh, and stretch and rise to my feet, grimacing as I force away the stiffness of my muscles. He is waiting for me outside the front door, and he tempts me to the Wandering Monk with promises of better fare than 'piss and old veggies'. And so we take the long way around, wandering down quiet, residential, mid day streets, the rain lingering still, but in a moderate, steady mist that seems to paint the world grey.
My companion apparently knows the entire city by name, and makes it his business to smile, talk or interact with each and every one along our journey. For a guy supposedly trying to keep a low profile, he certainly is a sociable fellow. As we approach the gazebo, it is no different, for he calls to a young man beneath the shelter of the thorn covered building and draws his attention. And so it went until the young man was joining us for lunch and none too soon, for the militia soldier was paying far too close attention to the pair of us as it was.
We settled in, finally arriving out of the rain and into the shelter of the Monk, sitting along the bar, thick as thieves it would appear to anyone there. But between us, the young man and I tested our boundaries with each other while my friend subtly poked at his ego. I was not entirely sure why he would pick up yet another hapless lost soul of the city, and I was even more confused about the subject when only a few minutes later, he bolts from his stool and shouts at the top of his lungs, 'help! Guards! we have a thief here!!'.
On my feet already, an empty bowl in one hand and a half full mug of mead in the other, I look stupidly at the soldier who bursts through the door demanding to know what was going on, I simply shrug helplessly watching as our young companion knots his fist tight, bellows loudly, 'fuck you!' and lands a solid crack upon my companions jaw, sending him reeling backwards. That was enough for the soldier, for he is into the fray in just a few heartbeats and soon the three of them are tussling about in the middle of the room, while myself and the dismayed bartender watched.
The young man is the first to break free of the tangle and he bolts for the door, my friend is then hot on his heels. The guard with all his armor, struggles to his feet and makes after the pair as quickly as he can manage, all while I stand there mute and confounded. I am fairly certain I am still standing that way when my companion returns with a smug grin upon his face and without ceremony returns to his stool and orders every bottle of beer on the shelf.
'come on! we're celebrating!' he informs me, handing me a bottle, 'lets head home and take a few for the boys'. I watch as he downs a bottle in mere moments and I ask, 'do you mind explaining to me what that was all about?'. He laughs aloud and steps out of the building his arms full of bottles and a good buzz going, 'that was about giving the guards something else to do besides look for me' he says in a tone that hints perhaps that I might be somewhat of a simpleton.
I suppose he may be right, and I had to admit, and even said so out loud, 'that, was fucking brilliant' I concede and I watch as he drains two more bottles on our walk back through the city. Things seemed fine as we were passing the temple, until we moved just around the corner and suddenly my friend, stumbled. He stumbled, then he cursed, well it was kind of like cursing, accept it sounded as if he was trying to do it through a mouth full of cotton. Then, he simply face planted into the street.
The crash of glass bottles upon the cobblestones could have waken the dead, and it did draw some attention for who rounded the corner not a few moments later, but our young assailant from the Monk. I am caught that way, standing with a crooked head, and a bewildered expression as I stare at my inebriated friend as the young man approaches. 'don't blame me, I didn't do THAT to him' he assures me as he arrives. 'yes, I know...I was here' my smirk intact as I reply. I grab my friend by the heels, my intent, to drag him back home, when a stocky man wanders by doing his best to hide his dismayed curiosity as he hurries past the odd scene.
I really have no idea what to make of my new benefactor. Half the time, I truly suspect the man to be entirely unbalance, but still, I can not help but admire his approach to life. He goes through each day as if it is his last and he best enjoy it, and be damned and to hell with tomorrow. It is a lesson I will likely never learn myself, but perhaps...I might pick up a new trick or two in his company.
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