Bleak. Quiet. Lonely. Desolate. Jane had gone through all the adjectives she could come up with to describe Little Silverhorne. It was a tiny village, and while not as distant from proper civilization as many other villages, felt like it was on the edge of the world. Overcast clouds covered the sky and blended with the snow capped peaks surrounding the town. Houses were few and separated by wide lanes. Only mild conversation from the town's only pub and the rhythmic dinging of a distant blacksmith showed Jane that the place wasn't completely dead.
What few people she saw on the streets moved with a slow deliberation. They answered questions readily enough, but gave no more than that. Jane found that the only real commerce coming to and from the town was a caravan that came every two months or so. Travelers were rare. Those that came by were only passing through. Jane felt only the usual suspicion of travelers in the villagers' tone. The Sitharli sect was a secretive one. If any of them--or the entire town for that matter--were worshipers of him, they didn't show. They probably thought the Lipomancer was such an obscure legend, the treasure deemed so mythical, that few would even have heard of it, let alone come looking for it, Jane thought.
Jane entered the town at dusk, having dawdled too long on the road. The path to Little Silverhorne was rocky and ill-maintained. She found the pub, which doubled as an inn, and entered, feeling she had exhausted any useful sources of information still out on the street. Besides, she was tired and hungry.
Inside she took a seat in a corner. She was wearing a travelers cloak and hood, a universal sign of somebody on the road and just passing through. But she couldn't count on being completely inconspicuous. Professional thieves like her were using the old mysterious traveler guise for so long now that anyone was just as likely to assume she was up to no good as not. The patrons spoke in hushed conversations, although none seemed to notice her. Jane noticed a pattern, now that she saw so many together. While the men had the normal range of body types. the few women around were either plump or outright obese. They had the same cold demeanor as the men. Jane noted this with both pleasure and hesitation. Sure, maybe there were Sitharli worshipers and a treasure horde here, but she knew about too many secretive cults who did not like letting outsiders leave. This would have to be a quick job.
Two waitresses scuttled between the tables, bringing beer and food to the townsfolk with little prompting. They were both large, but one was so fat that Jane wondered how she navigated the crowded floor so deftly. Jane reacted with a reflexive disgusted expression as she approached, her features fortunately hidden by her hood.
"Beer, traveler? Food?" she said in a surprisingly pleasant tone.
Jane nodded to both.
"Steaks' the special today. It's always the special."
"That's fine."
Waiting for her food, Jane saw two others wearing the trademark travelers' cloak as her. One was a man, a few years older than her, and he obviously had noticed her, although was taking pains to conceal it. He too took a corner seat by a window. The other traveler looked out of place despite her dirty cloak. Underneath she was wearing an ornate read dress that was too tight for her soft body. She was the thinnest woman there other than Jane, but she still had a noticeable potbelly, and her pale, delicate face was rounding out. She had an almost regal demeanor to her. Jane could tell her story just looking at her. A young girl disenchanted with court life, runs away, and now is in a desolate tavern far from home, alone, scared, probably running out of money. She was looking down at her empty plate with a tired, almost desperate expression. When the waitress brought her another plate, this one full of steamed potatoes and herbs, she cringed. She weakly tried to wave it away. Jane listened in, barely making out the conversation. The girl had a very regal accent, and spoke in a discreet, scared voice.
"Please, no, no," she said.
"On the house, miss," the waitress said. "You look like you could use a meal."
"Please, I don't . . . I don't want this . . ." it was too dark to be sure, but Jane thought she was either on the verge of crying or was already there. She leaned back in her chair away from the food, her hands pressing on her round belly, compacted into the fine dress.
"What's that?" the waitress said, confused. "Eat up, dear. Keep your health up."
"I . . . I've only been here two days and . . . and . . ." the girl began sobbing, and nobody took notice. The waitress stood next to her and patted her on the shoulder.
"There there. There there."
"Do you know who I am?" the girl almost shouted. A few looked over, then went back to their conversations.
"Doesn't matter to me who you are, miss. Just glad to give you a proper meal."
The waitress walked off, leaving the food. The girl was crying softly as her chubby face leaned toward the steaming dish in front of her.
"Why? Why are you making me . . . like this . . . eating . . . always . . ." her broken sentence trailed off as she began obediently eating her food.
The other waitress brought Jane's beer and steak. It looked delicious. She was looking forward to it, but that whole overheard conversation had shaken her more than she was used to. She tried to shrug it off, but it left an extremely bad feeling about this whole endeavor in her.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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