The Bloody Cup
“His eyes darted nervously around the room and he wiped sweaty palms down his stained woollen shirt.Inside the shoddy room, which was thick with fire smoke, the smell of some kind of fish-head soup and men in various stages of drunkenness, the stranger stood out simply because he reeked of fear.‘I’m looking for Octa, the owner of this shit heap,’ he demanded of a shepherd who was hunched over a wooden bowl of greasy soup. The man shook off the stranger’s hand.‘Get your paws off me’, he snarled. ...‘Octa’s over there by the pot.’ He pointed a grime-stained finger at a man ladling out bowls of soup and pottery jugs of beer to his customers.The stranger nodded, and then slithered his way through the press of men until he reached the innkeeper.‘A man called Pebr comes here from time to time,’ the stranger began.The innkeeper allowed his gaze to slide away from his ladle and focus on the newcomer.‘A one-eyed man,’ the stranger added.‘Perhaps he does, and perhaps he doesn’t.MoreLess
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