"All right," Dhamon finally agreed. He released the girl and the sword, wrapping both of his hands around the mug. He narrowed his eyes at the half-elf, then shrugged. "No trouble." To the girl, he added almost pleasantly, "Bring me another pitcher. And not this rot you've been serving me. How about some of that fine elven wine I'm catching a whiff of. The stronger the s'better. The kind you've been bringing the rest."
"Maybe you'd better leave," the old half-elf suggested as soon as the girl was gone. His voice was uncharacteristically deep and scratchy. "You've had more than enough to drink already."
Dhamon shook his head. The muscles in his back tensed. "I haven't had near enough to drink-still awake, ain't I? But don't you worry about me. I'll be on s'my way soon enough. With first s'light I suspect. Then you and none of the s'other Qualinesti will have to stomach me anymore."
The half-elf took a step closer, and Dhamon saw himself reflected in a large polished medallion that dangled from a fine chain about his neck.
He scowled at the disheveled image.
The half-elf lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Go drown your sorrows somewhere else."
A hint of a smile tugged at Dhamon's face, then he opened his mouth to argue, but a gust of chill evening wind interrupted him. The tavern door flew open wide, banging loudly as two more elves entered. They were dusty and haggard-looking, the one carrying a gnarled staff a stranger to his eyes, the other very familiar and decorated with dried blood stains.
"Gauderic," Dhamon whispered. His face grew ashen as if he'd seen a ghost.
Gauderic likewise noticed him, nudged his companion, and pointed. "That's him! That's Palin Majere's worthless champion!"
At the same time, a colorful skirt swished loudly. "Here's your elven wine, Sir!" the serving girl musically announced. She gasped as the two elves charged toward them, pounding across the hard-packed dirt floor as they made their way around the tables.
Dhamon stood up, cracking his head on a beam of the low ceiling and bumping into the girl. She fell back against the ale-spattered half-elf, soaking him again as the pitcher slipped from her fingers and shattered against the floor.
The half-elf cursed and tried to help the girl to her feet, but they both slipped on the spilled wine, fell in a heap, and became tangled in her skirt. Dhamon ignored them and grabbed the edge of his table, upending it and positioning it as a shield against the two newcomers. The stranger collided with the tabletop and made a sickening thud, as Gauderic nimbly sidestepped the obstacle and raised his sword high.
"Dhamon Grimwulf!" he shouted. "You ordered us to charge the dragon! Charge and die!" He swung the sword in a wild arc above his head, sending the nearby patrons scrambling for cover, wine mugs in tow. "We shouldn't have listened to you!"
Dhamon kicked Gauderic in the stomach and sent him careening into an abandoned table.
"Noooo!" the serving girl hollered, as she finally managed to pick herself up. She awkwardly scampered through the maze of tables to the back room. "Silverwind! We've got trouble! Silverwind! Call the Watch!"
"I didn't want trouble," Dhamon grumbled. "I just wanted something to drink."
Both of the elves had recovered and were coming at him now, though the stranger was a bit groggy and blood ran from his nose. Furniture was being moved toward the walls to better accommodate the fight, and whispers and murmurs of speculation filled the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Dhamon saw the two human men wagering coins. A few of the elf patrons had their hands on their weapons, and Dhamon had no doubt whose side they would take if they decided to join in.
"My wife and sister!" the stranger spat. "Dead! Dead because of you!"
"My brothers and friends!" Gauderic added.
"I didn't force anyone to come with me!" Dhamon returned. He stooped to keep from bumping his head against the six-foot ceiling. He swung his own blade down, using the flat edge of the weapon and striking the stranger on the shoulder. "Dragons are dangerous! They kill people, dammit! That's just the way of it and you know it, Gauderic!"
"The green didn't kill you!" Gauderic returned. "You were lying on your belly, avoiding the fight! You were busy watching your men die!" He wiped the blood that ran from his lip with one hand and drove his other fist hard into Dhamon's stomach. Dhamon doubled over, and the stranger followed through by swinging his staff solidly into his side.
"You're coming with us, Dhamon Grimwulf," the stranger added. "We're turning you over to the authorities. You're going to stand trial in Barter! And there won't be anyone to speak in your defense. I want your death for the death of my wife and sister."
"Death for death," came a cry from a corner of the room.
"Try him here!"
"We don't need a trial!" another patron shouted.
The stranger swung the staff at Dhamon again.
