(continued from #51)

“AYE KEEP IT DOWN NOW Jumi, ya fabber!” Blom had had enough of this raucous sorta talk. Soon as Jumi Rubigen started in on that verse ‘bout the Wayward Spirits he knew he’d hafta clamp it down, and clamp it down right away oh he did just that. “Sedition mayn’t be a word you can spell but by Garr’s Breath it gets ya some trouble right the same.”

“Ahh stuff it Blom ya cackler,” shouted one of the patrons, laughing like a Jibberjab. “Ain’t no harm in a bit o’ music.”

“When the wrong sorta ears start dancin’ to it you’ll be thinkin’ otherwise!” Blom shot back with the ease of a man with long practice doin’ such things. “JUMI! Let’s wrap it up now. Get on offa there.”

Jumi paused in his recitation of the old Anthem and narrowed his eyes through bushy blue eyebrows. He puffed and puffed on his puffer, a frightful bit intoxicated from Heemee’s wine but sensible enough to know Blom the Innkeep had the right of it. After a bit of thinkin’.

“Aye, yer right ‘bout that Blom, Heemee’s got to my head and I just love that old tune.”

"Love it or like it, it ain't got no place here."

"Aye."

Now that didn’t mean Jumi’s audience had the same thoughts, not all these folk’re so keen to pick out the cascading effects the politically-charged Anthem has on a populace, no sir, they can’t be ‘spected to account for their passions. The rabble ain’t unroused so easily. “Aww Blom ain’t no fun.” “Lighten up, Innkeep.” “Ain’t no harm in a bit of harmless harmlessness ya old man.”

Blom ignored the grumbles and put his ancient anger away. Ain’t no use in yellin’ at yer patrons when they be puttin’ the coin through to keep the Inn up. He didn’t have to like it, but keepin’ on the green side of your customers is the only way to stay up, stay kickin', stay talkin', specially in Assol now where King Jigexijicab got his fingers in every lil hive this side of the Madman’s Mountains. If ya own an Inn, that is, which Blom did. All right-minded business owners these days hadta keep a third eye out the back o’ their head. “Jumi now you don’t need no more wine s’far as I can see but the rest of ya lot come on up for a bit of ale. Just you all promise now not to be bringin’ in the songs of the old ways here in my fine Inn.”

Half the customers took ol’ Blommy up on his offer of free ale, the other half shuffled on outta there, awakened from their brief reverie to the lateness of the hour. Glasses clinked and the jovial attitudes picked right on up again, this time a lil’ more hushed, lil’ less on the edge o’ political revolutionary. Don’t need to be crashin’ down the system every night just ‘cause the ale’s so good the common sense flies right out the back gate. Jumi was a mite bit deflated and shambled over to a booth, where he puffed on his puffer. Fine tobacco came from the fields over east, one of Gilba Gilba’s better exports, that stuff was. Jumi had a mind to test out each batch of what came up.

Satisfied the evening’s theatrics had ended, Blom went back to polishing his mugs in between fillin' up other ones. Good stout steins, heavy glass. Keep ‘em sparklin’ like a crystal sphere and the ale inside sells itself, hey? You bet. Quick tricks learned in his youth. Keep em clean and you look like ya know somethin' worth knowin'. He noticed Blacksmith Randly heavin’ a pile of ale up into his gapin’ maw and beckoned him on over. “Aye, shuffle on down the way here, Randly. Keep a fella company.”

Randly was a round sorta fella with a face like a braised piece o’ mutton. Friendly chap though. Made it through Blember’s Rebellion thirty years afore, he'll tell ya about that first chance he gets. “Ho there Blom, what’s the read?”

“Bit of a fright there, yah?”

Randly swallowed a bit more of ale and nodded. “Gotta keep a rein on that sorta thing.”

Blom shook his head. “Ain’t happenin’ in the Ragged Maiden Inn. Saw enough of that brutality back at the Crown.”

“I tell ya I don’t fancy makin’ no more o’ them beastly weapons like I had to when Blember blew on through,” Randly muttered, voice takin’ on a hint o’ the past. “But ya do what ya do, I reckon. Them days are over if I got anything to say about it.” He fixed Blom with a boiling stare aided by the fancy ale in his mug. “And I do. I got lots to say about it.”

“Oh we old timers all got a thing or two to say about it.” Blom’d been havin’ some trouble lately with the past. Wantin’ to talk about it with other fellas but nobody out here in Gilba Gilba had much of anythin’ to offer in the ways of the chaos of Blember and his sad plight. Randly here had a few thoughts in his ol’ brain. Glen did too but Blom had to be careful what he said ‘round his brother. Glen's mouth wasn't often fixed shut proper. “Still though I think we made out well enough.”

The RAGGED MAIDEN INN! Proud bit o’ history she had here in Gilba Gilba, before Blom even came by it back when he came huffin’ in years ago. Good piece o’ architecture she was. First thing visitors saw when they came on in to this town, out from their travels in the wild, from Out There. Blessing and curse for ol’ Blom. Got some handsome coin from it from the prime location. And some strange faces from time to time. He couldn’t be havin’ ol’ Jumi Rubigen screamin’ out the old Anthem for precisely that reason. Who be hearin’ that old theme from the outside and decide they wanta poke on in and peek into what sorta restless talk be transpirin’ in the good King’s realm?

Some accuse Blom of bein’ a trite too paranoid but the truth is he knew what he was riskin’. You don’t rip your name outta the Crown’s authority the way he did and skirt away clean. He suppressed a righteous shudder and kept on polishin’ them mugs. “LAST CALL ya fabbers,” he shouted, taking his good-natured face back outta his pocket and puttin’ it on so it fit all natural-like. “Or get on back to yer lasses.”