The Apprentice by Alexander C. Hoffman

left.
    “Why
must we stay here?”
    “Because
I’m not rich and it seems like a decent place. When you have slept in some of
the places that I have, you can appreciate any place that offers a bed,” Baird
responded. “Besides, no one will try to steal from you in a place like this.
Any thief will know that you have nothing worth taking.”
    “No one
would steal from you anyway,” Rowan muttered, rubbing his bruises. “They would
look at the size of you and think it a bad idea, even without knowing that you
are skilled with a blade.”
    “You
should not be complaining. You will be sleeping in a bed instead of on the
ground. And I am paying. Be glad for what you get.”
    Rowan
grumbled in annoyance but said nothing more. One look at the Cloak & Dagger
made him think that he might be better off sleeping in a stable. At least there
the smell would not be so bad.
    Baird
and Rowan entered the Cloak & Dagger and found themselves in a relatively
deserted tavern, which was hardly surprising given the time of day. The room
was spacious and filled with tables, most of which were empty. A few people
were present, scattered around the dimly lit room in hollow recesses along the
wall and at some of the tables. Rowan felt out of place. A shiver ran down his
spine as he received stares from the room’s occupants. A large man stood behind
the bar, cleaning a dirty glass with a rag that was equally dirty, if not more
so. Baird walked confidently across the room and leaned against the bar,
grunting loudly to make sure he had the barkeep’s attention, though he clearly
did. There wasn’t a face in the room that didn’t have an eye on the two of
them.
    “Do you
need something?”
    “I’d
like a drink for me and my companion,” Baird said, opening his purse and
tossing some coins onto the counter. The bartender took the cup that he had
been cleaning and began to fill it but Rowan stopped him.
    “Do you
have a different cup?”
    The
bartender glared daggers at Rowan but Baird tossed an extra coin on the counter
to placate the man.
    “Clean
cups, please,” he said, smiling. “Thank you.”
    The man
grumbled under his breath, offended, but he set the dirty glass down. Baird
motioned for Rowan to follow his lead as he sat. The bartender poured them
their drinks and then returned to cleaning his glass, occasionally glaring at
them from across the bar.
    Rowan
gulped his drink and fought the urge to spit it out. The liquid burned his throat
as he swallowed and made his head swim. Baird drained half of his glass and
wiped his mouth, slamming the cup back onto the counter and motioning the
bartender to refill the drink. While he was waiting, Baird spoke to the
bartender again.
    “I’m
going to need a room for myself and my companion,” Baird stated, taking his
refill.
    “How
long are ya’ going to be staying?”
    “Just
for the night,” Baird said. “I have business to attend to today and should be
done by tomorrow if no difficulties arise.”
    “Just a
moment,” the bartender said. He turned and left the bar, leaving Baird and
Rowan alone for a few minutes. He returned shortly with a pair of old rusty
keys, which he relinquished only after Baird had paid for the room.
    “You’ll
find your room upstairs,” he said, pointing to a staircase in the back. “Do
whatever you want, all we ask is that you don’t bring your business back here
with you and you keep things clean. I don’t want trouble. If you need
something, I’ll be here, or you can call on Ma’ Primm when she is around.
You’ll know her when you see her.”
    Something
told Rowan that they should not expect very much from the bartender in the ways
of service or help. The man turned away and left Baird and Rowan to their
drinks. Rowan tried to swallow another sip, but he could not stomach it and
pushed the glass away. Baird quickly downed his own drink and then took
Rowan’s.
    “Come.
There is no reason to linger. Let’s go find the room and then I will head