Sir Diebold's Wake Part II

The Happy Hearth was quiet when Rudiger returned from The Last Drop, the brief afternoon storm had proved no discouragement to the long line of people come to pay their respects to Sir Diebold.

Getting caught in the freezing spring downpour had not done Rudiger’s mood any good. The long lines and grumbling he heard as he passed to the head of the line just served to fuel his temper. Rudiger swore that if he heard one more, "’E was one of us, was Sir Diebold!" He’d throw up on the offending jackass, then pummel him within an inch of his life.

Nobles were just another type of boss, and just cause they had a title, didn’t make them shit gold or any less an ass when you were talking to them. Of course, they made a good focus for the attentions of others. Rudiger preferred the shadows.

Shaking the last of the rain from his cloak, Rudiger looked about, seeing Nicodemus and his lackeys at one table, Andric at the top of the stairs staring at some mother and her blonde brats as they left the area set aside for Diebold’s remains. Rudiger gave them a wave as he walked to the bar to order.

Oldric was seated at another table, the weasel-like scribe that had attached himself to The Seven like a leech sitting beside him, writing something. Oldric was silent, reading from a sheaf of parchment on the table before him. Rudiger knew the magician had recently been making a few ripples in the limited pond of back alleys and knocking shops of Middenheim, setting up a ring of informants. Rudiger thought he was wise to most of them, having made a few introductions, but he was sure that Oldric had a few more up his sleeve. The guild was interested in such things of course, and was making sure they received their price from each of the members that happened to put a few nuggets in Oldric’s path.

A few merchants had also been seen speaking to the magician, and Rudiger felt a twinge of personal interest in what that could be about.

Silas’ son Hartwick came in through the Halfling-sized door and rushed up to his father, whispering in his ear. Silas nodded calmly as Hartwick quickly told him something, then his head shot up and he looked into his son’s face.

Hartwick nodded, once, sharply, as if to emphasize his statement.

Silas wrung his hands together, then jumped to his feet, looking about in panic.

Hartwick asked in a voice that cracked, "What do we --?"

The question seemed to bring Silas back to his senses, and he quelled his son with a look before visibly getting a hold of himself. He gestured imperiously to Leticia and Olga, the two serving girls that worked the place for his family. Both obediently filed into the kitchen, the two Halflings hard on their heels.

Rudiger thought about seeing what drove Silas from his lunch when both humans came out in a rush, cleaning cloths and buckets in hand. As they set about cleaning the already spotless tavern area, Hartwick followed after, a brace of candles in his arms. A clatter from the kitchen and Silas came out, a ladder across his shoulder.

Rudiger waited as the two Halflings set about placing and lighting fresh candles in the chandelier that hung on the Halfling side of the tavern. Catching Leticia’s eye, Rudiger shrugged and mouthed, "What's going on?"

Leticia shrugged helplessly in return, and continued to clean the bar.

Rudiger approached Silas just as the latter was lighting the last of the candles, "No time to talk, Rud."

"What’s going on, Silas?"

"Never you mind," Silas said, flipping Rudiger an empty tankard and gesturing to the taps as he darted back into the kitchen, Hartwick on his heels. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Rudiger filled his tankard to the brim with the Halfling’s finest ale and settled with his back to the shining wood of the bar.

For the next half-turn of the glass there came a great clattering and banging of pots from within the kitchen. Rudiger knew better than to intrude on that domain, having been scolded to within an inch of taking his own life the last time he entered that kitchen on his own, so he waited without, ale in hand.

Hartwick rushed out just as there was a knocking at the Halfling doors to The Happy Hearth. Not just a common knock, it sounded like a wooden rod was being used. Hartwick swallowed audibly and rushed over to the door. Hartwick gave his clothes a quick once over, then opened the double doors wide and bowed deeply from one side of the entrance.

Outside, four stout Halfling males carried a richly dressed female, grey-haired and wrinkled like a date with age on an ornately carved and gilded litter. As Rudiger watched, the young males stepped forward in unison, smoothly carrying their burden to the bier where Diebold lay in state. Silas entered from the kitchen carrying a large tray piled with his best cuisine, efficiently setting a place at a table built to Halfling scale.

The human commoners in the doorway looked on in hushed silence, as they could immediately see that here was a person of quality. Rudiger assumed that some might have heard of The Halfling Hag of The Greentrees, she was known in some bitter circles, but most would never have seen her.

Rudiger felt a twinge of something out of place in the Happy Hearth and looked around at his companions. After a moment, his eyes fell on Oldric and for a moment he saw a weird double image. In one image Oldric to be continuing his study of the parchment in front of him, but in another Oldric seemed to be watching the Halfling entourage very closely. Rudiger blinked and half-raised a hand to his eyes. Immediately, the double image disappeared, and Rudiger gave himself a mental shake as Oldric settled into one image.

Lady Hornblower had no right to a real noble title, and she had insisted on resuming her maiden name after the death of her husband, Halodoc Greentree. It was rumored amongst the human merchants that in her rise to power she had sucked the lifesblood from Halodoc, a prosperous, but not wealthy merchant who was also leader of the Greentree Clan.

Regardless of rumor, she was a shrewd merchant and tough-as-nails negotiator. During her thirty year reign over the clan’s interests the Greentrees had grown from minor pie sellers and innkeepers to merchants and business owners involved in some small way with almost every aspect of Middenheim life, even, some whispered, carrying out some of the more masterful crimes in the city’s history. If so, the guild was tight-lipped about it.

Rudiger watched the elderly Halfling carefully arrange herself, then stand with the aid of an ornate ivory-handled cane that cost more than Rudiger’s whole wardrobe. With the slow grace of the aged, she took a few steps forward and knelt before the bier.

Just enough time she spent in front of the bier, showing her respect without presuming to claim too close a relationship to the Man she had never met. Rudiger admired her deft grasp of etiquette and sense of timing.

The old Halfling retired to the table Silas had set for her with the same slow grace she had earlier shown. Rudiger watched their interaction closely, noting the deference with which Silas treated the elder Halfling and the indifference to his low voiced comments and the food he presented she showed.

After a few minutes of Silas’ speech, Lady Hornblower gestured him to silence and asked a single question. Silas nodded meekly and responded in the same low voice he’d used throughout. Hornblower gestured in the direction of the table where Oldric was seated. Silas nodded once and walked over to the magician, standing on tip-toe to whisper into Oldric’s ear. Oldric nodded and stood up, sliding the parchment into his sling bag and walking to the Halfling side of the Tavern.

'Oldric will tell me what’s up or he won’t, either way some version of that they talked about will be all over The Little Moot in a day or two,' Rudiger thought as he pulled a bit more ale for his tankard, his gaze, attracted like metal filings to a loadstone, went back to Diebold’s bier and the banner draping the closed casket. Respectfully, he quietly tipped some ale to the floor for his dead companion.