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In the distance, I could see the sign for The Blind Horseman hanging precariously above the tavern door. The hinges were rusty and squeaked in the wind which was pouring down the mountain. We started down the road, trying our best to stick to the parts that seem caked and dried. Every once in a while, I heard the familiar squish of an improperly placed foot from behind me, followed by some choice words.
The skies opened up when we were a few feet from the door. Fat droplets pelted my face and hair, licking the red tendrils on either side of my face. The icy water rolled down my neck and soaked into the collar of my coat. When we finally made it to The Blind Horseman, we were wet and shivering.
The building was small, with damp wood siding and a rotting porch. The peeling paint on the door signaled it might have been red a long time ago. Now only a few flecks remained, giving the impression that blood was oozing from wounded wood. The windows had been smashed in at some point, and the owner had boarded over them, rather than replace the glass panes.
“Charming,” I muttered. “I can see why people come here.”
“Are you here to mock or are you here to get answers?” Oleander asked.
I sighed. He was right. I’d contemplate the depressing state of this town later, when lives didn’t hang in the balance.
I pushed the door open, and the sound of coarse laughter and boisterous, drunken conversation met my ears. I worked hard not to gag when we set foot inside. Somehow the inside of the tavern smelled worse than the livestock pens we’d passed on our way into town. I didn’t look behind me, I could feel that Oleander had crowded in behind me and shut the door. He took my hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and then led me to the bar. I had to hop a little to reach one of the bar stools and came face-to-face with a wizened bartender. His apron, once white, was covered with grease, spilled beer, and grime. He wiped his hands on the stained apron, but I wasn’t sure if they came away any cleaner. He was almost entirely bald, the top of his head shining even though the room was dark but for two small fires in chimneys at either end.
“Pitcher of ale,” Oleander said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt.
The old man stared at Oleander, then turned his suspicious gaze to me. When he spoke, his voice barely carried over the jeers and shouts from the nearby tables.
“You’re supposed to be up at the school, Greenfoot. Yer daddy gonna tan yer hide if he catches you down here.”
Oleander tugged me a little closer with one hand and produced a wad of bills in the other. “I just wanted to show Astrid a good time. We’ll be gone before Dad could even guess I’m here.”
The old man eyed us for another second before relenting with a grunt. He snatched the bills and returned a moment later carrying a pitcher and two tankards, pouring us each a generous measure before wandering further down the bar. Apparently, there were no health and safety inspections to worry about, because both the pitcher and tankards looked as filthy as the man who’d produced them.
I turned by back to the bar, pretending to sip my drink. There was a game of dice in full swing at a nearby table. A lean, scarred man lifted a mug from the table, exposing the dice beneath with a triumphant smile. He had a pair of twos and sixes.
“Empty yer pockets, lads!” he shouted gleefully.
I nudged Oleander in the ribs, nodding at the winner. “Is that Loch?”
Oleander took a swig of ale and grimaced. “Loch’s brother, Heath. But if he’s here, that means Loch can’t be far.”
Heath gathered his winnings from his tablemates, stuffing bills and coins into the threadbare pockets of his pants. I was shocked they didn’t tumble out of a hidden hole and go spinning to the floor. He was still chuckling when the crowd of players dispersed, leaving him alone at the table. When he glanced up, he sobered, scowling at us.
“What you lookin’ at, girl?”
“You,” I answered honestly. “That game you’re playing looks fun. Do you mind if I play?”
Heath’s eyes perused my body, lingering on the faerie dust and autumn leaves that stuck to my hair and eyelashes. I could tell by the shift in his body language that I’d gone from threat to mild amusement. He thought I was a faerie, just like Oleander, just from a different court. I slid off my barstool, curling Oleander’s coat around my shoulders, trying to look smaller and less threatening.
Heath smiled after a moment. Lorcan would have had an apoplexy at the sight of his teeth. The ones that remained were yellow and crooked. The rest were simply gone, rotted right out of his head.
“I doubt you know the rules.”
“Teach me.”
“You think you can learn just like that?”
I shrugged. “It’s just a silly dice game, so I’m sure it can’t be that hard to learn.”
“An’ you got you money to play with?”
I nodded. “But I don’t want money in return… if I win, that is.”
“What you want?” Heath asked, eyeing me narrowly.
I leaned in closer to him. “Oleander says your brother knows everything that goes on around here.” Heath nodded. “I want information.”
Heath chewed his lip thoughtfully. It was revolting to watch. “And… if you lose?”
