The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) by Craig Halloran Page B

worries.”
    “I’ll be alright!” Darlene said. She knocked a bottle from one table only to excuse herself and knock a bottle from another.
    The men laughed behind her back as she sauntered away, ignoring the obvious stares. The place was nice, very nice, but the people she wasn’t so sure about. Many of them were impeccable in clothing, even the handful of dwarves that smoked around the tables. But their manners were lacking. Oh! The fire was welcoming on her back as she took a seat on the corner of the fireplace hearth.
    “Woo!” she said, slapping her knees. “Sure is nice in here.” She fanned herself. “Getting really hot, though.”
    The tavern chatter was about many things, including underlings, but there was something else going on she couldn’t put her finger on. A couple of robed men’s faces were masks of concentration, staring hard into one another’s eyes inside a small group that gathered around and added more coins to the piles on the table.
    “Ten seconds,” one said, rubbing his chin.
    “Twenty.”
    Sweat beaded on both of the robe d men’s foreheads.
    “Thirty seconds,” the man said.
    The bigger of the two men locked in a stare jumped from the table, banging his knee and holding his head.
    “Fodor wins!”
    Darlene applauded along with the rest of the men, even though she didn’t have any idea what was happening. “Say, what kind of game is this, anyway? A staring contest?”
    A couple of the scholarly robed men chuckled while another man sneered and walked away. The smaller man in a bright green tunic seated at the table smiled and waved her over.
    “Please, come over here and have a seat . I’d be happy to explain,” he said, smiling.
    “Really?” Darlene said, “My, you men sure have a different way about you . And your clothes.” She grabbed the sleeves of one man’s robes and rubbed them. “They look more like something a woman would wear. By Hohm, that sure is soft. What kind of fabric is this?”
    The man named Fodor cleared his throat. “Ahem, Miss, what was your name?”
    “Oh, Darlene. I’m from Hohm City. Home of the Mists , and that over there,” she pointed, “is Scorch. My friend. He kills underlings.”
    Fodor made a polite nod . “I see. Well, Darlene, let me tell you about this game we play…”
    “Excuse me, but are you Royals?” She grabbed another man’s sleeve.  “Where can I get a shirt like this ? It’s so pretty.”
    He leered at her and pushed her hand away. “This clothing is made for Wizards, not for a grubby sheep herder.”
    A couple men chuckled . Others gathered around.
    Darlene looked them over . “I’m a hunter and a trapper, and a fine shot with a bow. I bet I could out shoot any of you. And you better watch your manners.” She slipped a knife underneath the man’s privates. “Or for certain you’ll be wearing that fancy shirt as a woman.”
    The man gawped, eyes wide.
    “Certainly, Darlene,” Fodor said. He lay his hand on her shoulder. “Please, put the knife away. My companions don’t have the best manners when it comes to travelers.”
    Darlene slid her knife back into the sheath and burped.
    “You can say that again. So,” she drummed her fingers on the table, “tell me about this game again, Fodor. Is it something I can play?”
    “Certainly,” he said, clasping his hand s on the table. “And it’s really quite simple. Even for you.”
    She swayed forward.
    “Well, what do you mean by that?”
    “I say that because it’s your first time , is all. No insult about your intellect intended.”
    She nodded .  “That’s what I thought you meant.”
    Fodder smile d and continued.
    “So, it ’s called a Mind Grumble. It’s a game for everyone, but a mage or wizard must link it. What happens is our minds are linked together and we engage in a mental arm wrestling contest. A test of wills. Do you understand, Darlene?”
    “I think I’ve heard of this before. I had an uncle that was a wizard, or at least my