Chapter Twenty-Seven - Vulpine

I moved Rusty to the side of Tattletail’s, then parked the mech in front of a set of catwalks. There was another mech to our left, a newer, human-made warmech. Shorter and stubbier than Rusty, but covered in heavier armour. Across from us were two more mechs that looked like they could hold their own in a fight.

It was a good hint to the sort of people that gathered in a place like this.

I flicked Rusty off, then jumped out of my seat. “Do you have a gun?” I asked.

“I do,” Clin said. “Just my derringer.”

“Damn, I should have grabbed a gnome handgun for you. Not that you know how to aim for shit.”

“I can learn,” he said.

“Not right now you can’t,” I said. “Alright. Stay in Rusty. Anyone comes that isn’t me, shoot them.”

“What are you going to do?”

I gestured with a thumb towards the saloon. “Go pay Tattletail a visit. We need fuel, some ammo, and a good map of the areas to the east of here.” That, and I had questions that Tattletail might have answers to.

“Be careful,” Clin said.

“Yeah, I will be.”

I flung Rusty’s door open, made sure my mask was on snug, then jumped out. I didn’t loiter. There were some mechs moving around, heading either towards the city, or to a place where they’d be covered from the worse of the wind. A few enterprising folk were setting out collectors to refill magical cores, most of those were going up next to lightning rods.

I walked around to Tattletail’s front, then paused as I noticed a trio of gnomish mechs moving through the far end of the bazaar. Two of those troop transports and one of their three-legged warmechs. Were they coming in for shelter too? They didn’t look like the same ones I’d see in the city.

I wondered how many gnomes were parked around Mortarview.

I pushed into the saloon.

The Centre Inn was a nice, respectable sort of place. Sure, there were fights, and sometimes it got rowdy, but Juvenal was quick to kick people out, and most of his patrons were locals from one clan or another.

Tattletail’s, in contrast, was a whole other sort of beast. The interior was a warren of little corridors with tables and benches tucked in every nook. The lighting, what little there was, was provided by flickering incandescent bulbs hanging from wires above. It cast everything in dull oranges.

“Can I help you, sugar?”

I looked around and found a barmaid addressing me. She wore considerably less than what the girls in the Centre Inn wore, and she looked considerably more likely to snap someone’s neck for doing any more than appreciating the view.

“Yeah,” I said. “Tats in?”

“The boss is, yeah,” she said. “Her usual place. Want anything to drink?”

“Water,” I said before flicking her a copper. “Thanks.”

I navigated my way through the saloon, around tables where pilots were resting next to bounty hunters and normal hunters. A group of herdsmen were making a ruckus at one table over some cards, and an older man was plucking away at a poorly-tuned banjo on a little stage by the back.

The place stank of piss and beer until I crossed another doorway and came into the shop portion of Tattletail’s place.

A low counter circled halfway around the room, with a glass front that protected guns of every sort. Rifles, handguns, shotguns, mage gloves and ancient staffs. On the walls behind the counter were mecha-grade weapons. Revolvers like the one Rusty had, shoulder and back-mounted weapons, wrist guns and weapons designed to fold back into a mech’s armour so as not to be noticed.

Half of them were bigger around than the dwarf behind the counter.

“You lookin’ for something?” he asked.

“Tattletail,” I said.

“Hrm,” was his reply. He pointed to the back.

Through another door, and I found myself climbing a couple of steps into another building. A saloon, but this one with a much wider and more open floor. The tables here were all for gambling, and even though it wasn’t yet noon, there were a few bored folk playing against the house.

A girl came up to me with a tray and a bottle of water. “This is yours,” she said.

I thanked her for it as I walked in properly. There was the jingle of a one-armed bandit to the back, and someone was cussing up a storm by the bar.

Ignoring all of that, and taking a sip of my water, I moved over to a table near the back where a kobold woman was flicking cards to two others across from her. I sat down and tapped the table. “What are we playing?” I asked.

“Slow day,” the dealer said. “Coppers. Blackjack.”

“Deal me in,” I said.

The dealer, Tattletail, grinned.

She was a strange sort of woman. A kobold that had more of a fox look to her than a dog look, with longer ears and a tail that she swore up and down was fox-like. The fact her coat was the same colour as a desert fox helped sell the look.

She was small, likely frail, and definitely one of the most dangerous women in Mortarview. “How can I help ya, Charlie?” she asked as she flicked two cards before me.

I looked to the other two at the table, but they were minding their own. It wasn’t easy to get Tattletail away from her table. “Got some questions,” I said.

“I get asked those often enough. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Need ammo and fuel in a bit of a hurry.”

“Bother the dwarf on the way out. You won’t find much for ammo though.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I won’t? In Mortarview.”

She nodded. “Been a shortage for near on a month now. Not just ammo. Any sort of explosive. We’ve had to hire our own hunters to get cores from the local wildlife.”

I shook my head. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s a mess,” she said. “But anymore than that will cost you.”

That was fair. “Fine. Gnomes. Got anything about them lately?”

“You after that bounty, or you want to know why they’re out and about so much?” she asked.

“Both.”

She barked a laugh. “Good good. You lost, by the way.”

I looked down and counted the cards. I had. “I always lose when you’re the dealer,” I said.

“Yes, you do. Ante up.”

I placed a couple of silver down. “Start with the elf, if you don’t mind.”

“Not much to say,” Tattletail said as she started shuffling. Soon cards were flicked back before each player. “Elf from the Teast’wood clan. An engineer of all things. Sent out not to secure a deal, but to stop one. Then he does something to really piss off the gnomes and they go gunning after him. Somehow he made it out of the Shadow Heights.”

“Hmm.” I looked at my cards, then tapped the table. I went bust and Tattletail swiped my cards and coins awat. I placed a few more silver down. “The gnomes?”

“I think they’re gearing up for a war, or a big battle. It’ll mean trouble for everyone, of course.”

“You’re not concerned?” I asked. My cards were decent, a nineteen. I held.

Dealer flipped twenty-one. “No,” she said.

“Alright. Last thing then.” I had to digest that last bit somewhere else. A war? There hadn’t been much more than skirmishes in a long time. Later, I could figure it out later. And I’d be asking Clin some difficult questions too. Gold only went so far. “I have a salvage mission for your clan,” I said.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Yeah. About five gnomish mechs, three elven ones. All in bad shape.”

Tattletail shuffled her cards while eyeing me. “That sounds lucrative. And lucky.”

“I just stumbled across them,” I said.

“I’m sure.”

“Got the coords for them. All I want in return is half the value post-salvage.”

“I’ll give you a twentieth.”

“A tenth,” I agreed with a nod.

She huffed. “Fine. Don’t suppose you’ll tell me the story?”

“Maybe later,” I said. “I need to get going.” I still had questions, but talk of war and big battles had me wanting to leave sooner than later.

She nodded. “Best of luck out there, Charlie.”

“You too, Tattletail.”

***