Dragonlance 04 - Time of the Twins Read Online Free Page B
glance, Dezra stood up, kicked the broken crockery out of her way, and flounced out of the Inn.
As the front door banged open, it hit sharply against its frame, making Tika grimace as she envisioned scratches on the woodwork. Sharp words rose to her lips, but she bit her tongue and stopped their utterance, knowing she would regret them later.
The door remained standing open, letting the bright light of fading afternoon flood the Inn. The ruddy glow of the setting sun gleamed in the bar's freshly polished wood surface and sparkled off the glasses. It even danced on the surface of the puddle on the floor. It touched Tika's flaming red curls teas ingly, like the hand of a lover, causing many of the sniggering patrons to choke on their laughter and gaze at the comely woman with longing.
Not that Tika noticed. Now ashamed of her anger, she peered out the window, where she could see Dezra, dabbing at her eyes with an apron. A customer entered the open door, dragging it shut behind him. The light vanished, leaving the Inn once more in cool, half-darkness.
Tika brushed her hand across her own eyes. What kind of monster am I turning into? she asked herself remorsefully. After all, it wasn't Dezra's fault. It's this horrible feeling inside of me! I almost wish there were draconians to fight again. At least then I knew what I feared, at least then I could fight it with my own hands! How can I fight something I can't even name?
Voices broke in on her thoughts, clamoring for ale, for food. Laughter rose, echoing through the Inn of the Last Home.
This is what I came back to find. Tika sniffed and wiped her nose with the bar rag. This is my home. These people are as right and beautiful and warm as the setting sun. I'm surrounded by the sounds of love—laughter, good fellowship, a lapping dog . . ..
Lapping dog! Tika groaned and hurried out from behind the bar.
"Raf!" she exclaimed, staring at the gully dwarf in despair.
"Beer spill. Me mop up," he said, looking at her and cheerfully wiping his hand across his mouth.
Several of the old-time customers laughed, but there were a few, new to the Inn, who were staring at the gully dwarf in disgust.
"Use this rag to clean it up!" Tika hissed out of the corner of her mouth as she grinned weakly at the customers in apology. She tossed Raf the bar rag and the gully dwarf caught it. But he only held it in his hand, staring at it with a mystified expression.
"What me do with this?"
"Clean up the spill!" Tika scolded, trying unsuccessfully to shield him from the customer's view with her long, flowing skirt.
"Oh! Me not need that," Raf said solemnly. "Me not get nice rag dirty." Handing the cloth back to Tika, the gully dwarf got down on all fours again and began to lick up the spilled beer, now mingled with tracked-in mud.
Her cheeks burning, Tika reached down and jerked Raf up by his collar, shaking him. "Use the rag!" she whispered furiously. "The customers are losing their appetites! And when you're finished with that, I want you to clear off that big table near the firepit. I'm expecting friends—” Tika stopped.
Raf was staring at her, wide-eyed, trying to absorb the complicated instructions. He was exceptional, as gully dwarves go. He'd only been there three weeks and Tika had already taught him to count to three (few gully dwarves ever get past two) and had finally gotten rid of his stench. This new-found intellectual prowess combined with cleanliness would have made him a king in a gully dwarf realm, but Raf had no such ambitions. He knew no king lived like he did—"mopping up" spilled beer (if he were quick) and "taking out" the garbage. But there were limits to Raf's talents, and Tika had just reached them.
"I'm expecting friends and—” she started again, then gave up. "Oh, never mind. Just mop this up—with the rag," she added severely, "then come to me to find out what to do next."
"Me no drink?" Raf began, then caught Tika's furious glare. "Me
As the front door banged open, it hit sharply against its frame, making Tika grimace as she envisioned scratches on the woodwork. Sharp words rose to her lips, but she bit her tongue and stopped their utterance, knowing she would regret them later.
The door remained standing open, letting the bright light of fading afternoon flood the Inn. The ruddy glow of the setting sun gleamed in the bar's freshly polished wood surface and sparkled off the glasses. It even danced on the surface of the puddle on the floor. It touched Tika's flaming red curls teas ingly, like the hand of a lover, causing many of the sniggering patrons to choke on their laughter and gaze at the comely woman with longing.
Not that Tika noticed. Now ashamed of her anger, she peered out the window, where she could see Dezra, dabbing at her eyes with an apron. A customer entered the open door, dragging it shut behind him. The light vanished, leaving the Inn once more in cool, half-darkness.
Tika brushed her hand across her own eyes. What kind of monster am I turning into? she asked herself remorsefully. After all, it wasn't Dezra's fault. It's this horrible feeling inside of me! I almost wish there were draconians to fight again. At least then I knew what I feared, at least then I could fight it with my own hands! How can I fight something I can't even name?
Voices broke in on her thoughts, clamoring for ale, for food. Laughter rose, echoing through the Inn of the Last Home.
This is what I came back to find. Tika sniffed and wiped her nose with the bar rag. This is my home. These people are as right and beautiful and warm as the setting sun. I'm surrounded by the sounds of love—laughter, good fellowship, a lapping dog . . ..
Lapping dog! Tika groaned and hurried out from behind the bar.
"Raf!" she exclaimed, staring at the gully dwarf in despair.
"Beer spill. Me mop up," he said, looking at her and cheerfully wiping his hand across his mouth.
Several of the old-time customers laughed, but there were a few, new to the Inn, who were staring at the gully dwarf in disgust.
"Use this rag to clean it up!" Tika hissed out of the corner of her mouth as she grinned weakly at the customers in apology. She tossed Raf the bar rag and the gully dwarf caught it. But he only held it in his hand, staring at it with a mystified expression.
"What me do with this?"
"Clean up the spill!" Tika scolded, trying unsuccessfully to shield him from the customer's view with her long, flowing skirt.
"Oh! Me not need that," Raf said solemnly. "Me not get nice rag dirty." Handing the cloth back to Tika, the gully dwarf got down on all fours again and began to lick up the spilled beer, now mingled with tracked-in mud.
Her cheeks burning, Tika reached down and jerked Raf up by his collar, shaking him. "Use the rag!" she whispered furiously. "The customers are losing their appetites! And when you're finished with that, I want you to clear off that big table near the firepit. I'm expecting friends—” Tika stopped.
Raf was staring at her, wide-eyed, trying to absorb the complicated instructions. He was exceptional, as gully dwarves go. He'd only been there three weeks and Tika had already taught him to count to three (few gully dwarves ever get past two) and had finally gotten rid of his stench. This new-found intellectual prowess combined with cleanliness would have made him a king in a gully dwarf realm, but Raf had no such ambitions. He knew no king lived like he did—"mopping up" spilled beer (if he were quick) and "taking out" the garbage. But there were limits to Raf's talents, and Tika had just reached them.
"I'm expecting friends and—” she started again, then gave up. "Oh, never mind. Just mop this up—with the rag," she added severely, "then come to me to find out what to do next."
"Me no drink?" Raf began, then caught Tika's furious glare. "Me
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