Tarun and Shon entered the town inn as the last of the daylight began to fade outside. The first floor of the inn was set up as a restaurant and tavern for travelers, but it occurred to Shon from the number of people he saw that it must also be a regular meeting place for the locals as well. As soon as his eyes began to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamps inside, Shon began looking for signs of who their customer would be. An herbalist, a druid, possibly a dragon hunter.

The last thought made Shon cringe. No, not possibly a dragon hunter, almost definitely a dragon hunter. There really was no one else interested in paying good money for the plant that they brought except for a dragon hunter who really knew what he was doing. It was a simple fact to Shon that dragon hunters were frightening. He felt no shame in his fear because he reasoned with himself that he would have to be crazy to not be afraid of dragon hunters. They were dangerous. Thrill seekers, and fighters to the core of their instinct. The job was too dangerous to be sought by the sane, and wasn’t even profitable enough to make one wealthy.

Shon had actually never met or even seen a dragon hunter before, so he didn’t really know what to look for. He and Tarun sat down at a table near the door so Shon could have a good look at everyone in the room, and try to use what he knew. Aside from the temperament of dragon hunters there was the very simple fact that dragon hunters always worked in hunting parties, because hunting a dragon alone would be suicide. Such a thing was only done by a Dragon Slayer of legend. He saw two tables full of men that looked promising. The first table was surrounded by rowdy men watching quite loudly as a large hairy man sitting at the table defeated anyone who challenged him to an arm wrestle. The other table had a small crowd of men gambling in a game that Shon was not familiar with, and most attention seemed to be fixed on a thin man with a sour expression and thick scar on his face. Shon decided use the hood of his father’s cloak to focus his attention on the thoughts of each group one at a time for a while to gather some clues as to which table they should approach.

Disappointment came quickly to Shon as he learned the thoughts of the groups of men.

As Shon read the minds of the first group of men he learned that the large hairy man was named Smitt, and that he was the captain of a company of woodcutters who had been hired by the town to clear some of the nearby forest for town growth. Most of the men standing around him were also members of that company. He was definitely not the man that they were looking for.

The group of men who were gambling were all locals, and the thin man with the scar was actually the town lawkeeper. His name was Ulysis, and his business in the tavern was not just recreational, but also professional. He was there to keep an eye on the woodcutters and make sure they didn’t get out of hand. Many of the men around him were lay-deputies, there in case they were needed.

Shon’s mind started to tire from the focus of listening to so many individual minds at once, and so he pulled the hood farther down his face until the thoughts around him quieted down. He shook his head a little and looked up at Tarun who was intently watching Smitt, fascinated with the arm-wrestling. Shon’s mind was feeling a little too tired to comfortably send his thoughts to Tarun, so he whispered, “They aren’t dragon hunters, but they could still be trouble. Let’s try to find our customer as soon as possible, and avoid them if we can.”

Shon then began looking around the room in hopes of spotting any other likely candidates. There really weren’t any. There was one other occupied table that had two men, who were wearing the clothes of farmers, and at the bar there was only a merchant and in the far corner what appeared to be an old man with a large hunch on his back hidden under a thick dark cloak. Shon was about to whisper to Tarun again, when suddenly there was a commotion from the table of woodcutters.

“Is that all of you?” Smitt bellowed, “I’m sure there must be someone in this town who can best my strength!” He stood up from his chair and began to look around. “You farmers look like sturdy, hardworking men. I’m sure that one of you could give me a challenge.” Both farmers at the table shook their heads and looked down in to their mugs. “How about you two?” said Smitt as he gestured to Shon and Tarun.

“We’re just passing through,” said Shon, shaking his head.

Smitt gave Tarun a wry look, “And do you just let baldy here speak for you, kid?” Tarun nodded in response. Smitt then turned to the table of gamblers, but upon seeing Ulysis he continued to turn himself to the bar. “Well barkeep, would one of your customers up here be up for some exercise?”

“Not me,” replied the merchant, “I’m afraid I need both of my arms to carry on business.”

Smitt turned his eyes and sneered, “And I suppose there’s no sense even asking you, eh old man?” The figure in the dark cloak gave no indication that he had heard Smitt at all, and Shon felt the mood in the room become suddenly tense. “Did you hear me, old man?” shouted Smitt, “I don’t take kindly to being ignored!”

“Gee cap’n” said one of the men from his company, “maybe his hearing’s gone south or somethin’.” The man walked right behind the man and shouted behind his head, “Does this help you hear us better?” The man in the corner still gave no reaction, and this lead to more men leaving their seats and starting towards him.

Shon could see Ulysis begin to apprehensively reach for the club on his belt, when Tarun unexpectedly stood up. “Leave him alone,” said Tarun. It was not a timid request. The sheer clarity of voice and lack of fear in Tarun caused the men to startle and look to Smitt, who was more than a bit surprised at this young man who had chosen to not even speak before.

After a moment Smitt regained his swagger and said, “Ah, I see you’re brave enough to speak for yourself this time.” Laughs came from the men in the company. “And are you going to make us leave him alone?”

“You’ve been looking for someone to play your game with,” replied Tarun, “If you leave him alone, I will challenge you.” Someone within the company let out a long whistle and Smitt and the rest of the men laughed.

“Alright then,” sneered Smitt, “if you can beat me then we’ll leave the old man alone. But otherwise you just mind your own business and let us have our fun.” Tarun hadn’t met anyone yet that he could remember disliking, but he really didn’t care for the way that Smitt preyed on those who he thought were weaker than him.

Tarun nodded his head and rose to his feet. As he stood up from the table, Shon could once again feel the mood in the room change. It became clear that Tarun was quite a bit larger than they had all originally thought. Smitt’s expression, though so brief that only Shon spotted it, was the most surprised of all. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to tell me how to play,” said Tarun as he walked to the other table. “I’m not familiar with this game.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” replied Smitt. “Well, you start out by sitting down and giving me your best hand.” Tarun had no sooner taken his seat and reached out to Smitt, than the woodcutter gripped his hand and struck it down on the table. The crowd cheered and Smitt roared with laughter, while Tarun looked bewildered at what had just happened.

“You call that fair?!” shouted Shon as he jumped to his feet. He did not like the idea of someone making a fool out of his friend. “You didn’t even give him time to grip your hand!”

The room went silent as Smitt turned his eyes to Shon. Smitt squinted his eyes and pointed a thick finger at Shon as he hissed through gritted teeth, “Are you calling me a cheater, you little runt?”

Shon had pulled down his hood and was reading Smitt’s mind so he knew his words before they had even left his mouth, and his reply was quick. “You started without warning because you thought you might not be able to beat him, and you need all your men to think that you’re unbeatable so they’ll listen to you. Even now you’re thinking that with your advantage it was still tough to win!”

Suddenly Smitt pounded the table with his fist, and Shon realized that he had probably revealed too much of Smitt’s thoughts. He could feel the rage coming to a boiling point in Smitt’s mind, when a deep, gravelly voice unexpectedly came from the far corner.

“It’s not a difficult problem,” said the figure under the dark cloak, who didn’t seem so old to everyone anymore. “If you say you can really beat him, you should just do it again and get the bald boy to apologize.” Before Smitt could respond, the cloaked man stood up from his stool. This time some of the men were surprised enough this time to audibly gasp. As he stood straight up they could all see that what they all thought was a hump on his back was merely his own large shoulder when he stooped over while sitting at the bar. As they saw him now, he was tall enough that he would have to duck as he entered the door. Everyone was quiet as they waited to see what he would do next. “And if that apology isn’t enough to entice a rematch,” he said as he threw some coins to the table, “perhaps a friendly wager will help. I’ll wager that this time, he’ll beat you.”

No one said anything. Shon could tell that Smitt was in a difficult position now. After all, how could he refuse the chance to win some money by beating a man he had already beaten? But at the same time, Shon knew that Smitt was afraid of Tarun. After a couple of uncomfortable seconds Shon gave one of the men around the table a slight mental nudge, and he shouted, “C’mon, you can beat him, cap’n!” And all the other men joined in with a cheer.

At that point Smitt knew he couldn’t get out of it. He grinned in spite of it all and hollered over the cheers, “How ‘bout that, men? I’ll get to take their coins and their apology!” There was another great cheer as they all moved behind where Smitt sat.

The cloaked figure walked around the room, always able to keep his face hidden. As he stood behind Tarun, he whispered in his ear, “Don’t try to beat him right away, just make sure you keep your arm up straight. And for pity’s sake, this time be ready to keep your arm up no matter when he starts. You can’t expect everyone to play fair just because you do.” Tarun nodded his head and looked straight into Smitt’s eyes. He would not be fooled a second time.

“Go!” Smitt suddenly yelled, attempting the same tactic as before, but this time Tarun was ready to resist him and his arm didn’t even budge. All of the men behind Smitt were cheering and whistling, but some quieted a bit when Smitt didn’t meet instant victory. Smitt’s frustration was instant and hot, and his face didn’t hide one ounce of it.

More than a minute had passed and both arms were right were they had been when they began, though Smitt’s face was bright and beginning to turn red and sweat was moving down his forehead. Tarun didn’t take his eyes off of Smitt, but turned his head back a bit to ask, “What do I do now?”

“Put his hand down on the table,” came the deep-voiced response. And just as quickly as his opponent had ended things the first time, Tarun threw Smitt’s hand down on the hard table, leaving it instantly red and sore and ending all of the cheers. Shon turned his head in a vain attempt to conceal his grin.