“There was some trouble yesterday at the Ragged Maiden,” Mumbraterner said, pullin’ the t’backer outta his wide, pudgy face and blowin’ a thick blast of smoke into the darkness of Teevee’s Tavern.

“Aye, that a fact now,” said Beent, who blasted her own blast o’ smoke up into the dark.

“Aye.”

“What about, you reckon,” Beent continued. She was not a curious woman, havin’ lived in Gilba Gilba for most of her adult life and happy to hear nothin’ out of the ordinary. Still, it made sense to keep up with the gossip of the day.

“Me I suspect has somethin’ to do with that Crowner, Glen Blomgrin. Fella been right shady ever since he ’n Blom opened up that inn nigh nine years ago.”

“Aye,” answered Beent. That was all she wanted to hear of the matter. The Blomgrins were right well-known in Gilba Gilba and the less o’ the gossip she knew the less she was involved in affairs.

Teevee’s was busier than usual today. A couple of mutterin’ pockets o’ customers were fillin’ up each corner of the hazy establish. Louder than usual too, and you could tell by the tone of Gorma Barv, the owner, that he wasn’t too certain how to handle it.

“Yeh so how you want yer ale then?” he cried.

“The only way to have it!” answered an anonymous customer. “You know any other ways to drink the stuff besides wiv a tankard?!”

“Aye, aye, manners then my good lad, we’re all doin’ our best here.”

“Aye, that’s why I ordered your best ale,” replied the customer uselessly. “Extra dracoin for your trouble.”

“And thank you.” The dracoin disappeared in a flourish.

Unlike Beent, Mumbraterner paid close attention to the rumors of the town, for Gilba Gilba was poised in the Outlands as the gateway of information and anything that got through Gilba Gilba would make its way to Hurgabatackis, Blumberdan, and Marmarmar before long. But usually the rumors that came from the Crown or the Northern Reaches or the South O’ Things or even the western whatevers made their first stop in Gilba Gilba.

“Blom’s been right tense of late,” he said to Beent, who was simply relaxing with her eyes closed and having a nice time. They came to Teevee’s once a week or twice a month or three times every two weeks or four times every three weeks or five times every four and a half weeks depending on the calendar. It was just part of the small town process.

“I don’t hold much interest in the Blomgrins,” said Beent with her eyes still closed. “As mentioned.”

“Aye. Well the word’s the word, Beent! Can’t bring up the Town Word?”

“Gettin’ too on in my age to need to talk about the Town Word,” countered Beent. “Now how about them Autumn Storms? Endless Shivers are round the bend of the shroomy dune and back again for another quarter of the way!”

“Aye now the weather is as the weather was,” answered Mumbraterner wearily. “You know, let’s enjoy ourselves a bit o’ these t’backers while they’re lit and I’ll content myself with pickin’ out the talkin’ of all these patrons.”