The Drawing of the Dark

The same serving woman he'd startled before was returning with an armload of empty pitchers. 'Did you find him?' she asked, still a little uneasy.

'Yes.' Duffy smiled. 'Now can you tell me where the innkeeper is?'

'Werner? Certainly. He's the heavy-set gentleman drinking burgundy at the end of the bar in the taproom.' She squinted at him. 'Didn't you used to live around here?'

'I'm not certain yet,' he told her. 'Thanks.'

I guess that dog-faced old fellow is the one, Duffy thought as he weaved his way through the crowded dining room to the raised, slightly offset area that was the taproom. The old, room-long monastic tables had been sawn into thirds and distributed about the hail in a less regimented way, and several obviously new chandeliers cast a bright radiance into every corner. I can almost see, Duffy thought with a grin, the outraged ghosts of old monks peering in through these windows.

He sat down beside the small-eyed man. 'You, sir, are the innkeeper here?'

Werner stared at him mistrustfully. 'Why?'

'I've got this letter -'Another freeloader! Aurelianus obviously wants to

ruin us. Listen, if you intend to steal any lead or brass from the rooms, I swear to Christ -Duffy laid one hand softly but heavily on the bar, and

Werner halted in his tirade. 'I'm not a freeloader,' the Irishman said quietly. 'Aurelianus hired me to keep the peace here. So stop shouting.'

'Oh. He did? Sorry. Let me see that.' Duffy handed him the letter. 'Well, I see our cellar-hermit has approved it. Uh... five hundred ducats? That's simply out of the question. Obviously a mistake. I'll let you sleep here, somewhere, and you can eat with the kitchen help - tonight you can even drink as much beer as you like ! - but this money is out of the -

'You won't meet the terms of the letter?' Duffy asked in a conversational tone.

'Certainly not. It's some kind of mistake.'

Duffy stood up. 'Then I'm leaving Vienna in the morning. Explain to Aurelianus when he gets here that I left because you wouldn't comply with his written instructions. Right now I'll take you up on that all-the-beer-you-can-drink offer.'

'Wait a minute,' Werner protested, getting flustered. 'If you're not taking the job.. .but.. .are you really leaving in the morning?'

Bright and early.'

Werner gulped some of his wine unhappily. 'Very well,' he said finally. 'I'll pay you. I guess he can't blame me for his mistakes and Gambrinus' carelessness. I'll get the money tomorrow sometime. We can fix a wage for you then, too.' He glared at Duffy out of his pouchy red eyes. 'But hear me - there will be no fights, not even a harsh word, in here. Understand? If I have to pay this kind of money for a bouncer, he's going to do one hell of a good job.'

The Irishman grinned and clapped the innkeeper on the back. 'That's the spirit, Werner lad! I'll earn my keep. You'll bless the day I arrived.'

'Go drink your beer.'

Duffy stepped down to the dining room level and walked across to a table by the wail so that he could keep an eye on the entire hail. Looks like a fairly quiet place, he thought as he sat down; though I can see I'll have to crack down on vandalism. Someone's been carving on this table.

The thin serving woman was back, handing out foaming mugs and pitchers of beer, and Duffy beckoned to her. 'Bring me a big mug of mulled ale, miss, and draw one for yourself - it's on the house. I'm the new chucker-out here.'

She smiled wearily. 'I'll be happy to. You won't get insulted, though, if I check that with Werner.' Then she cocked her head. 'You're Brian Duffy, aren't you? The old landsknecht fencing master?'

He sighed. 'Well, yes. I am. Who are you?'

'Anna Schomburg. Everybody figured you died years ago, fighting the Turks in Hungary.'

'Must have been somebody else Uh, tell me, Anna, do you remember a girl named Epiphany Vogel?'

'Girl? Hah. Yes, I remember Epiphany Hallstadt She got married, you know.'

'Where is she now?' Duffy kept his voice in a casual tone. 'Where could I find her?'

'Right here, if you wait long enough. She works the morning shift.'

'Damn it, Anna, where's my suffering beer?' came an impatient call from another table.

'Whoops.' Anna picked up her tray again. 'See you later,' she said, and whisked away.