Torham Zed: Meat Broker By Jeff Long Episode 3 The door swung open and Torham Zed stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the ongoing work at one of his many meat warehouses. Already standing at the rail was a tall, muscular man with disheveled brown hair and a huge sword slung across his back. The fierce-looking man was constantly shouting in a rough, guttural voice, barking an order here, and cursing a slack worker there. Quietly, Torham Zed moved up beside the big man. "So, how go the shipments, Bane?" asked Torham in a neutral tone of voice. Bane Bladecrusher turned to acknowledge his boss, but did not seem surprised in the least. "The meat we're getting lately seems to be more and more bone and less meat. Profit margins on sales are down by two percent because of it," replied the man in his guttural voice. Angrily, he spat on his heavy boot, and then scuffed it up with his other foot. "Looks like we'll have to raise prices again, then," said Zed softly. His gaze traveled across the warehouse, examining everything. He noted the team of peasants struggling with the bridle of a pack horse, the wagon with the broken wheel that his workers were trying hurriedly to repair, the barber that wandered aimlessly across the floor, the burly men that hefted the sacks of meat . . . all of this he saw, without really paying attention, yet filing the information away for further use. "You'll see to the details of our price increase, Bane?" Despite his brutish appearance, Bane Bladecrusher was Torham's chief financial advisor, and the man in charge of all the money that went into and out of Superfresh Meats. The big man merely grunted in acknowledgement of Torham's request, and fingered the moneybox that he kept on his belt. Just then, a grubby man wearing a tuxedo and with a fedorah on his head, swung down from the ceiling and landed on the platform next to Torham Zed. "Message for you, sir," whispered the grubby man urgently. "Het Farvil is back from her inspections of the meat camps in the east, and wants to speak with you at your earliest convenience." "Excellent," said Torham Zed coolly. "I'll see her right away in the warehouse office." "Right away, sir," said the man in the tuxedo. Deftly, he dove off the balcony and disapeared as abrutply as he'd come. Torham Zed turned and opened the door to the office. Seating himself at the desk, he took the time to polish his shoes for a few moments. Hearing the door open, he looked up to see Het Farvil enter the room. Het was a short woman, with a sharp, pretty face and shoulder length blond hair. She was dressed all in black, from her boots to her blouse, and was even wearing a night-black cloak that seemed to drape her in shadows no matter what the light. An orange and yellow headband kept her hair from falling in her eyes. "So, Het, what is the situation at the East labor camp?" asked Torham Zed once again in his neutral tone of voice. "There have been rumors that some of the workers had been trying to organize some sort of resistance," Het replied in her dangerously soft voice. "But after we had a few chimpanzees pushed down the stairs, I think they got the message. Things should be under control now." "Very good," said Zed, sounding neither particularly pleased or displeased. "Now that you're back, Het, I have another assignment for you." "Of course, Lord Zed," Het Farvil replied, almost making the acknowledgement a question. "I have been hearing rumors that the King of Zalk has finally decided to take steps against my organization." Though Torham's tone had stayed the same, it seemed that a hint of concern had crept into his voice. "I want you to find out exactly who he has sent against us, and the details of the King's plan." "It shall be done, Lord Zed," said Het Farvil confidently. She turned about and walked out of the room, her boots making not a sound on the hard wooden floor. As the door closed behind her, Torham Zed's brow furroughed in concern. Though he had to be absolutely sure, he thought he already might have a fair idea of who the King had sent . . . It was a typically boisterous night at "The Coughing Chicken", where the ale flowed freely and laughter and music echoed out into the darkening streets. Inside, the bartender was assiduously wiping the already clean counter with a pink polka-dot cloth. A minstrel sat in a corner, strumming a lively tune on his harp. Almost every table was occupied by men in plain workman's clothing, dicing and gambling, drinking heavily, or just sharing a good story. A barber stood at the counter, looking somewhat confused. Tavern wenches circulated through the room, holding their trays above their heads to avoid having them jostled and spilled. The door of the tavern swung slowly open, and two men entered the room. The first had waist-length black hair, and a hint of a confident smile on his face, and the second was blond with cold blue eyes. Though they both wore peasants' clothing, their faces were a bit too clean-shaven for them to be simple farmers. They also had mysterious bulges on their backs and at their hips that looked suspiciously like badly concealed weapons. Nevertheless, people were coming and going from the tavern at a rapid rate, and these two attracted no more attention than anyone else. "I just don't bloody get it," muttered the blond man angrily. "Why was I the one who had to come with you on this bloody excursion?" "Everyone else had a better excuse," murmured Ganz Oryon, still with that smugly annoying smile on his face. Theerin Baine just ground his teeth as pushed and shoved his way through the crowd. By accident, he shoved a barmaid a little two hard, and she went toppling to the ground spilling ale all over the floor and some patrons' shoes. "Oops," muttered Baine quickly as he and Ganz quickly pushed their way to the bar. They ordered some grapefruit juice, then turned around to slowly sweep the room. "Who exactly are we looking for again?" asked Theerin Baine in a low voice. "A woman by the name of Seri Flamehair," Oryon murmured back just as quietly. "She's our only lead at the moment to Jarod Nightwielder." "Exactly how is she ‘related' to our friendly assassin?" asked Baine suspiciously. "Well, she's married to Jarod's brother, Bob Nightwielder, so I guess that would make her his sister-in-law," Ganz Oryon replied. His back straightened suddenly. "That's her, over there!" "Where?" asked Baine, turning around quickly and elbowing another serving wench in the face. Ganz Oryon pointed discreetly to a red-haired woman wearing a blue skirt, a thin white blouse and what must have been ten pounds of gaudy jewelry. She was sitting at a large table with several other men and women, all of which were laughing and drinking. Theerin Baine sniffed in disapproval. "What's she doing in a place like this without her husband, anyway?" "Times are changing, my friend," said Ganz ruefully, a sardonic smile replacing the smug one. "You'll notice she's even kept her maiden name." "Well, at least that's appropriate," muttered Baine, eyeing the woman's flaming red curls. "Come on, let's get this over with." Ominously, the two men pushed through the crowd and approached the table. Seri Flamehair didn't look up until the two hard-faced men were right in front of her. "Mrs. Flamehair," said Ganz Oryon in his quietly confident voice. "We wish to speak with you . . . in private." Theerin Baine just stared at the woman with his cold blue eyes, looking nothing like the peasant he was disguised as. The smiles and laughter faded from around the table and Seri Flamehair looked up suspiciously. "And who might you be, gentlemen?" Ganz Oryon smiled a humorless smile. "That's not important. The point is you're coming with us." "Now just a minute," called one of the men at the table. "I don't think Seri has to go anywhere she doesn't want to, and you two hardly look like the kind of company she'd want to keep." The man suddenly produced a slim dagger from his sleave. "Now I suggest you leave us alone, before we have to take . . . steps." Ganz Oryon eyed the man's dagger with a pitying smile. "I really wouldn't try it," he said in a patronizing matter. The other man's voice took on a rough tone. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Come on, boys, looks like we have a little job to do." The other two men at the table also stood and produced daggers. Already, a small area of clear space had started to form around the table, as people backed away. "If that's the way you want it," Ganz replied harshly, the smile disapearing from his face. He quickly undid the buttons of his peasant's clothing and let them fall to the ground. Beneath his disguise, he was dressed all in black, with a silver glove on his right hand and a silver cloth tied around his left forearm. Twin short swords hung from his belt. Reaching into his pocket, Ganz produced a silver headband and tied around his forehead. Baine, meanwhile, struggled with the buttons of his outfit. Everyone in the room stood back, shocked. "King's Defenders!" breathed one man. "Avengers!" whispered another fearfully. "Martini!" yelled a third. The men at the table, however, did not seem impressed. "We're not scared of you black-cloaked goons!" snarled the leader. Instantly, the room erupted into chaos. Ganz Oryon's short swords came out of their sheaths with an ominous hiss, opening up the stomach of the first man in the process. Theerin Baine, still unable to get his clothing off, had ripped open the back of his shirt and pulled out his sword. One of the men hurled his dagger at Ganz, but the long-haired man deflected it with a deft movement of his swords. Seri Flamehair backed up from the table, knocking over her chair. The bartender poured a martini. Ganz Oryon knocked aside another man's dagger with one of his swords and stabbed him between the ribs with the other. Theerin Baine kicked the last man in the chest, who fell back knocking over a barmaid and spilling her drinks all over the floor. Baine leapt forward and grabbed Seri Flamehair's wrist in an iron grip. "You're coming with us, Mrs. Flamehair," he hissed. Grabbing her by the hair, he slung her over his back and made for the door of the tavern, with Ganz Oryon covering his retreat. Once into the darkened streets, the two Avengers took off at a dead run toward the abandoned district near the Avenger barracks. Neither looked back to see the sharp-faced man in workman's clothing stepping out of the bar and hurrying off the opposite way down the street. Torham Zed drummed his fingers on his desk in an irritated manner. "It looks like I'll have to do something about this," he muttered. "About what?" asked the thief who was going through the desk drawer beside where Torham sat. "About all these blasted thieves that infest my house!" yelled Zed in anger. A thief who had been trying to pick the lock to Torham Zed's safe looked up briefly, shrugged, then went back to his work. At that moment, the filing cabinet popped open, and out jumped a grubby man wearing a tuxedo and a large sombrero. "Lord Zed, Het Farvil has something to report. She's waiting to see you at your office," said the grubby man urgently. "Tell her I'm on my way," said Zed, rising quickly from his chair. The man in the tuxedo nodded, and dove out the window, surprising the thief who had been examining the draperies. Angrily, Torham Zed got up and stalked over to the closet, pushing aside the thief that had been appraising his wallpaper. "Where are you going again?" asked the thief who was going through the desk drawer. "I'm going to my office," snapped Zed angrily. Opening the closet, he kicked aside the thief who had been examining his shoes, selected one of his cloaks, pulled on his boots and started toward the door. "Okay, then, see you later!" called the thief by the desk. The door slammed shut and Torham Zed was gone. Tension is rising on both sides. Join us next week as both Torham Zed and the Avengers turn up the heat, in another exciting episode of: Torham Zed: Meat Broker Special Bonus: The ‘Superfresh Meats' slogan: We're Superfresh, and we sell meat Our quality is hard to beat Our owner's name is Torham Zed It is his job to keep you fed You cannot beat us anywhere Our prices are extraordinaire So when you need a bite to eat Come and buy from Superfresh Meat