The great iron plaque over the fireplace had been taken down for a brief period. Pio sat at a nearby table wondering why the new Innkeeper was fussing over it with a polishing cloth. He kept spitting on the cloth wrapped round his index finger, and seemed to be going over a portion of the inscribed letters on the great oval disc.
‘I hope you are not thinking of spitting on my name, my dear. Very unsanitary habit.’
She rattled the ice cubes in her tumbler, and took a last swig of gin, bending closer to see whose name he was polishing up.
‘Ah! About time that name was graved there!’ she thought to herself.
She stopped a passing server and exchanged the empty for a full. ‘This calls for congaratulations!’ Pio looked about the darkened Inn, peering as best she could into the shadows.
‘Hey! Where are you, sweets! Come up and join me, I’ll buy you a drink and show you round if you’ld like . . .’
[ May 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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