Susan's Plague

Chapter 8 - What You Sow

Terry fought with the chimney flue as smoke billowed into the room adding to the usual haze. Several patrons engaged in a game of cards jeered and laughed as Terry resorted to stabbing at it with a cast iron poker as a steady stream of expletives spewed forth from his mouth. The small tavern was lit solely with oil lamps that adorned each table along with a few sconces on the walls. The usual mouth-watering smells that wafted out from the kitchen were somewhat overpowered by the hardwood smoke that now hung in the air.

"Burning the place down Terry?" A leather-skinned older fellow who had just entered the tavern asked as he shook the rain from his long coat and hung it from a brass hook by the door. "Maybe I'll leave the door open for a minute." A few patrons continued to chuckle, having a good laugh at Terry's expense.

"Thanks, maybe some of these Marys will show themselves out." Terry replied shooting a nasty look at the revelers, who pretended not to notice as they kept their eyes on their cards. "Yeah, you keep yer heads down an' yer mouths buttoned if ye know what's good fer ye!" Terry bellowed partly in jest. Everyone knew the friendly barkeep could back it up too. Despite being near seventy, Terry's physically imposing frame had waned little over the years and he never shied away from giving unruly patrons a quick comeuppance. Most of the regulars had witnessed on numerous occasions Terry manhandling miscreants out the door and it was not uncommon for them to clear the porch entirely airborne before landing in an unceremonious heap just beyond.

In his younger years, Terry had swung an axe for a living and he and his brothers had cleared considerable acreage for many landowners. There was barely a farm in the region that didn't owe at least part of it's cleared land to the Avery brothers hard labour. Between that and the years of being proprietor and owner of the Goat and Weasel Tavern, Terry knew just about everybody within 50 kilometers it seemed. True to his nature he also considered most of them friends, even if he had tossed them out on their heads at one time or other. This made Terry a good man to know, he was a veritable information interchange, people liked to talk to barkeeps, drunk people even more so.

"My usual Terry." The recent guest called out as he settled for a table in the far corner and sat down with another man. The other man had a very distinctive look about him that instantly pegged him as someone not from the Territories. Terry picked it up the moment the man walked in the door, he was Meta, to the bone. More than that, he was an official, a bureaucrat or executive, but not military that much was clear to Terry. He found it a bit odd that his friend was meeting with this fellow from the Core.

The Core official stood as Terry's friend approached and the two exchanged a hearty handshake. "Good to see you." The official said.

"Likewise."

"I'm afraid I don't bring the best of news, however."

"Oh?"

The official looked around, leaned forward and continued in a quieter tone. "There has been an incident. The group we've been monitoring was involved in something at a school and all but one were taken into custody. I've heard Niles himself has taken an interest in them personally."

"Dammit, that is bad news! Who didn't they get?"

"Corvid, and they don't know it was him, unless the other four have talked by now. Sounds like Walt's nephew was injured during the arrest, but I have no details. Some MiST casualties as well, apparently Corvid has a bodyguard. I don't have to tell you how serious this is, there are a lot of people concerned about how this plays out."

"You said four, who's the extra?"

"Yes, sorry missed that detail, Walt's nephew brought a date along, so she's neck deep in this now too. Although that might work to our advantage."