A Meeting. (Inamorata Ch. 2)

“What the?”  she whispered to herself, touching the empty leather holster.

Inamorata crouched over the body of the man with the moustache, but did not find his revolver, The Liquidator.  The man snored gently, sprawled on the porch of The Waypointe Saloon, just as Danielle said.  The tall friend also slept a few feet away.

“You know of it too?” a voice from the darkness wound it’s way like a snake into the warlord’s ears.  She looked out at the night, the main road drenched in light from the gas-powered lamps, but did not see the voice’s owner.  “I have it.  What’s it worth to you?” said the voice.

Inamorata stood, and took a few steps down from the doorway, looking out into the quiet street. “Name your price...” she said cautiously, listening for footsteps, breathing, any sign of numbers.

When she felt convinced the voice was alone she said, “I have a little gold...”

“I’m not much interested in gold, miss.  I have a different proposition.”

“I’m not much in the business of my mother, if that’s what you mean,” she said.  Inamorata walked into the road in the direction of the voice, hand on the hilt of her sword.  She was comfortable enough with the stranger to leave the porch, for she must have something in common with a person who knew this cursed weapon, and was able to take it off the man with the moustache without ill effects.  At the very least, she was intrigued.

Then the voice suddenly came from behind her.  “I know where your talents truly lie, and at the moment... I am in need of careful mind.”  She unsheathed her sword and turned to find herself face to face with the man, a hood covering his eyes.  She held the blade in the air just under his chin.  He did not flinch or falter.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“There is something in the city that I want.  I cannot get it alone.  You know as well as I that the evacuation left great riches to be claimed, for those who are willing to risk life and limb against the kruthik.”  

Inamorata shuddered at the thought of the man-sized insect-like creatures, and their four skittery legs.  She’d seen them in battle.  There was no honor in the way they fought.  Their existence was unnatural.

“I care little for riches,”  she lowered her sword.

“I thought you might say that.  But I imagine you are becoming as bored as I in Stalemate; this town is quite small.  And surely you would consider my task if it meant having the revolver returned to you.”

Inamorata looked down at the dust on her boots, back at the saloon, the red lights of the brothel upstairs, and through the park at the flat wasteland beyond.  She felt the weight of the pack upon her shoulders, and could not ignore the desire for the return of her mother’s weapon after all these years.  She sheathed her sword.  With a tilt of her head, and a raised brow above her scarred eye, Inamorata said, “Perhaps I am interested in your proposition after all.”

“Good.  I am Cloud,” said the half-elf, pushing back his hood to reveal the elvish ears and long hair she had observed hours before in the bar.  He extended his hand to conclude the deal.  “And I will meet you here again tomorrow to discuss the details.”