I followed him out of the room, down the hall and out into the street. "Where are we going?" I asked trying to make small talk. "You'll see when we get there Treibonus, just keep your mouth shut until then." Nothing like a winning personality to get a working relationship off to a good start. Jorjar seemed to be in a rush and he was hustling along Marble Street at a good clip when I yelled at him, "Man with only one real leg here. Could you slow down a bit." He looked back at me and scowled again. I returned a smile to his scowl and pointed at my fake leg. He shook his head, muttered something about pathetic cripples and turned to lead the way again. He slowed down a bit but he was still going fast enough that I started to wheeze. He grunted when he heard that and slowed down some more.
We followed Marble Street being rewarded with the sight of Yelm's rays shining off of one of his no account son's temples to the north east. We soon reached Founder's Market which was already a hive of activity. Thank goodness we were either late enough or early enough, mornings aren't my strong suit, to miss the caterwauling which the Yemalians greet Yelm with. We easily crossed the market with people scampering to get out of our way, probably due to the expression on Jorjar's face. After the market we skirted Temple Court along its south end, much quieter there, and then along Marrow Street busier again, past a group of chattering citizens collecting water from a civic well to Meat Market, very busy. There we passed through the lovely smell of freshly slaughtered meat and ducked out River Gate. Jorjar nodded at the guards who let us pass without comment, probably not a good sign and we headed along the river path heading towards the Dwarf Bridge.
"Badside, huh?" I asked feeling facetious. Jorjar smirked at me which was a nice change from the scowls and just shook his head muttering something about how now he understood why Sor-Eel wanted me investigating. Feeling stung despite myself I decided to keep my mouth shut for a while. We walked up to the enormous bridge which arched high over the river and went through the guardpost. Again no comment, definitely a bad sign. We crossed over the bridge dodging cowpies the whole way and passed through the guardpost on the other side, no comment, no challenge. We walked along the path to Badside, easily much more hazardous for the cleanliness of our footwear than the bridge and finally reached the outskirts of Badside. Ah Badside, what a masterful job of naming that was. What a stretch of the poetic namer's art. A miserable collection of semi-permanent hovels, seemingly glued together with cowshit and horrible nomad tents which stank of urine. And the inhabitants! Nomad scum, butchers, Storm Bulls, drunken, washed up tribesmen, thieves, the worst gang in Pavis, the Blood Knives and other assorted vermin. They're mostly human which I guess is in their favour, no never mind no it isn't. We walked along narrow, malodorous, pestiferous alleys ignoring the various scum intent on rising early enough to rob or kill their neighbours before they did the same to them until we reached one of the buildings used by the butchers. This must be the place I thought for a squad of uncomfortable, uneasy looking constables guarded the door. Some of them were rather pale looking. They snapped to something approximating attention and nodding to them Jorjar waved me to go inside the building before him. I shrugged and ducked under the low lintel entering the room.
After my eyes adapted to the gloom I noticed the nude corpse hanging upside down, spread eagle from a pair of meat hooks sunk into one of the rafters. Someone had obviously been having sick fun as various bits had been sliced off and stuck in unnatural places. Having given me enough time to become ill and embarrass myself Jorjar ducked inside and stood beside me. I turned to him and said pokerfaced, "Suicide?"
To be continued.
Oliver
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