Noddak climbed the steps of the Lame Pelican Inn’s weathered wooden porch, then paused. From inside came the sounds of talk and laughter mingled with savory odors of food.
He entered and stood just inside the doorway, his travel-worn cloak dripping, forming a puddle at his feet. He let the door slam shut behind him to draw the attention of the patrons. A hush fell over the room as everyone looked the newcomer over suspiciously. Strangers were a novelty on Lone Island.
The innkeeper rushed over with a handful of rags to mop up Noddak’s puddle. “Will you be staying with us, tonight, sir? We have cod steaks for supper, with fried potatoes and onions. Should be ready in a little while. There’ll be an apple pie for dessert, made from our very own Lone Island Sweets, best apple on the continent of Andaran, or so I’m told.”
Another one, Noddak thought. What is it with these people? “Now see here, Innkeeper. I’ve just had a long and unpleasant voyage, complete with rain, rough seas, and a garrulous idiot. I’m exhausted, I’m half seasick, and I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with a cold. And I’m wet and freezing and in a hurry. So I won’t be staying over, thank you very much, and I won’t be having supper with you.” He wrinkled his nose. “In any case, this place reeks of fish!”
The innkeeper glowered. “Well, sir, as it happens, we’re cooking fish. Cod steaks, as I mentioned before.” He hesitated, then continued, “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you’re here for?”
“All I need is the location of a family by the name of Brackenpool. They’re of the Torph people. I have urgent business with them. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll be on my way.” Under his breath, he growled, “And the sooner the better.”
At the mention of the Brackenpool family, a murmur spread from table to table. A Torph family who had been having their supper in a corner near the fireplace got up quietly and made as if to leave.
“You!” Noddak roared. “Torphs in the corner! Stay where you are! State your name and your business here.”
Luddor, the local blacksmith, who had been sitting alone quietly eating a bowl of stew, stood up. Slowly. Then he stood up some more. And then he kept on standing up. By the time he had stood up all the way, the room had become silent. Everyone was staring at Noddak. Luddor crossed his muscular arms across his barrel chest. “They ain’t the Brackenpools, sir. We don’t got no Brackenpools on Lone Island. We don’t got no Torph families, neither, exceptin’ Mr. Brookside there in the corner, and his wife and children. And, we don’t know you. We don’t care to, either. You ain’t a very pleasant person, by the looks of you, and even if you was, we still wouldn’t tell you nothin’, nohow!” Luddor slowly sat back down, then stood up again. “Besides, we don’t even know what you’re up to, or what you want, or if you means well, or means harm.” He sat down abruptly.
“You’re absolutely right, you stupid Gruffer!” Noddak said, his voice harsh. “I’m not the least bit pleasant, and the sooner you get that into your thick Fruen head, the better! I’m not here to make friends with you. My name is Noddak. I’m on an important mission. I can’t discuss it with anyone but the Brackenpools! So how about you just tell me where they live, and I’ll be on my way.” He drew back the edge of his long travel cloak to reveal the hilt of his sword.
At the sight of the sword, a collective gasp ran through the room. Luddor stood up again, arms crossed, facing the visitor.
Noddak glared back at Luddor, then at each of the inn’s patrons. “You might as well tell me. I’m not leaving until I learn the whereabouts of the Brackenpool family.”
“Is that so?” Luddor roared. “You think you’re not leaving? That’s not what I think. Wanna know what I think? I think you’re leaving this very moment!” He reached for Noddak, who, with no hesitation whatsoever, drew his sword and stuck the raging blacksmith in the thigh.
Luddor collapsed onto the floor, crying out in pain. “He… he… he stuck me! Help me, Seltie—I’m bleeding!”
Seltie, Lone Island’s healer and midwife, dropped to one knee beside Luddor. “Oh, stop your wailing, Luddie. You’re not hurt. It’s nothing more than a pinprick.”
Noddak, still brandishing his sword, said quietly, “You just don’t get it, do you? I will find the Brackenpools, with or without your help. It’s a small island.” He sheathed his sword, stepped deliberately around the wounded Luddor, and strode out the door.