Though Jona harbored serious doubts , the rumors must have been true . Something is rotten in Dalhurst . He smiled at his own wordplay under the handkerchief and set off toward what looked to be a village green .
North , toward the river , a tumbledown two-story building leaned over the green . Its many-colored roof tiles and faded whitewash spoke of many repairs . A sign that hung over the wide door proclaimed : ‘ The Cautious Badger ’ and sported an inexpert painting of a badger peeking from behind a tree stump . An inn , unless Jona missed his guess .
Across from the inn , a much more well-kept building of dark wood with glazed windows shaded by lace curtains must have belonged to the local leadership . Jona chose to approach the inn , though he had a suspicion that he would need to visit the other place before long .
The smell was lesser inside . He hung his hat and cloak on a peg by the door and leaned his walking staff beside them . He untied the handkerchief and moved it to the top of his head . Floorboards creaked under his boots , and the smell of roasting meat and vegetables undershot the still lingering curse-stench . A stone fireplace sat , cold , to one side and a bar polished smooth by years of elbows to the other . In between , mismatched tables and chairs crowded what space they could .
A corpulent man with thinning red hair stood behind the counter , cleaning a wooden tankard with an oily cloth . He looked up from his work as Jona approached but didn ’ t seem about to offer any greetings . Jona found a high stool at the counter and fished a blackened silver coin from his pockets to toy with . The first words of introduction often the hardest , as they set his reputation more-or-less in stone when it came to these more isolated villages .
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