Two Crows Watch from the Gallows Tree (part 15)

She nodded her acknowledgment to him. "Rum, spiced."

He blinked at her--or winked--and frowned, scratching his head. "We don't get such things up here. That's imported such-and-such for the bluebloods. Beer 'n mead; that's what we got."

"Oh." She hesitated. "Do you have stouts?"

He nodded. "Stouts're very popular." He went to one of the kegs behind the counter and filled a tankard. "Three coppers."

She slid four across the bar.

He slid them into his apron. "Much obliged," he said with a gracious nod, and slid the tankard over to her. "Enjoy."

"Thank'ya." She nodded to him, picking the cup up and taking a drink. It was good. Strong. She turned slightly, still leaning against the bar as she glanced around the room, trying to decide on where to settle.

None of the patrons seemed to be paying attention to her. Many were singing along to the drumming bard, but some were huddled in a group around a storyteller. Others were drinking alone or with a few friends.

She wandered up to the group around the storyteller, still sipping on her drink.

He was telling the story of Stone Mother, and the group was deathly quiet. None of them were drinking or moving; they had complete attention on the storyteller, who was a young, round-faced man with golden hair and kind eyes.

Jerica leaned against the wall, listening but still drinking. She was on a mission to forget her frustrations. And this was an interesting enough myth to keep her entertained as she did so.

(I'm a bit tuckered so I won't go into detail but it's the kind of story where if you were home safe in bed after hearing it you'd be absolutely positive that Stone Mother was under your bed and in your closet.
The kind of story that even an adult would be freaked out by at night)

Eventually the man finished, and even then the group was hushed. A couple cast furtive glances out the windows.

(sounds good ^^)

Jerica had shifted despite herself so that her back was firmly pressed against the wall instead of just a shoulder, certain that she'd be able to see anything or anyone that approached. But she was still forcing herself to play it cool and pretend that she wasn't as freaked out as she was.

It was just a story.

An old wive's tale to scare children into staying in bed all night.

She was too old for such things. Governor's Assassin. She didn't get spooked by rocks and malice. She didn't... she just had to convince everyone else first, then she'd convince herself later.

There was a violent rattling from near the door, against one of the windows.

Jerica's hand shot for her sword, then she realized she had -- stupidly -- left it in the room. She hadn't wanted to draw attention. She'd tucked a dagger into the back of her belt, though, and yanked it out, tensing and snapping her gaze towards the threat.