Weapon of Flesh by Chris A. Jackson

Author:Chris A. Jackson [Jackson, Chris A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy, Epic
ISBN: 9781419607950
Google: zB_aPAAACAAJ
Amazon: B005JS6FW0
Publisher: Jaxbooks
Published: 2011-08-28T05:00:00+00:00

“Good to see you, Toby!” Forbish said with a genuine smile. He gripped the hand of his old friend and perched his bulk on one of the tiny bar stools.

“Likewise, Forbish.” The man was thin, his dark hair somewhat gray around the ears, with an open smile and eyes brimming with mirth. He placed a tankard of ale in front of the larger man without having been asked. “How’s business?”

“Can’t say good, but I’m still makin’ a go of it.” Forbish sipped the ale and restrained a grimace of distaste. It was nowhere near up to the standards of the Tap and Kettle, but people didn’t come to Toby’s to drink fine ale. “There’s just me and Wiggen now, you know.”

“Yeah, I heard about Tam.” Toby pulled a pipe from his pocket and began stuffing the bowl with sweet-smelling tobacco. “Sorry.” He lit it and exhaled a plume of smoke into the already smoky air.

“Nobody’s fault but my own,” Forbish said solemnly, sipping his ale. “You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.”

“Well, never you mind about that now, my friend. I got your note, and I’ve called him in.” He nodded past the tables where patrons were playing various games of chance, to a corner booth usually reserved for private card games. “He’s over there.”

But as Forbish rose from his stool, Toby reached across the bar and gripped his forearm, holding him back.

“Just be careful what you get yourself into, Forbish.” His tone screamed a warning, which Forbish knew was sincere. “He owns the note on this place, and always will. They get their hooks into you, they never let go.”

“Don’t worry, Toby. I just need his help to find something. Nothing complicated.”

“Nothing ever starts out complicated. Always seems to end up that way, though.”

Forbish could tell that his friend was bitter about his interminable relationship with these people, but he was also sure that Toby was speaking from long experience. These were the same type of people who had taken Forbish’s son away from him. He clenched his jaw and nodded. “I’ll be careful, Toby.”

“You do that.”

Forbish turned from his friend and worked his way through the busy gambling hall’s main floor. There were tables with cards, tables with dice, tables with blocks of ivory with dots in strange patterns on one side, and even a table with a great flat wheel and several colored balls that rattled around the slotted surface as it spun. Forbish was never one to gamble, unless you considered running an inn a gamble of sorts. He was far too tight-fisted to put money on a table and watch as it was whisked away at the whim of chance or luck.

Forbish didn’t believe in luck. He believed in hard work. He also believed in his family, or more precisely his daughter, who was the only family he had left.

He reached the corner table where he was immediately faced with two dangerous-looking men wearing weapons, their arms crossed in defiance. Forbish would have

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