No, you perverts, I meant her and the sword.

The sword looked pretty much the same, which makes sense, since inanimate objects don't change much. She, on the other hand, had had much more of an orphaned waif look going on last time I'd seen her (well, she had been one). Well, actually, I saw her a bit after that, but that was a good while ago. Amazing what a couple of years can do, innit? She spotted me, and ran over, which was certainly worth watching. She yelled a greeting, grabbed me off the stool, and gave me a bear hug, amidst envious noises from the peanut gallery.

"I'm glad to see you too," I managed to get out, "but could you please put me down gently? If you just let go, I'd probably just get squished to death. Pleasantly maybe, bust, I mean but, still dead."

Eventually, I got disentangled and replaced on my stool. She grabbed the stool next to mine, and most of the rest of the bar returned to their normal conversation. Plenty of glances shot our way, but Barbarian Hero(ine)s aren't exactly an endangered species, even if most of them aren't quite as attention-grabbing as she was. Which was one of the things I was curious about.

She spoke first, though. "We need you to..."

"Hold it," I interrupted, "If you want me to help you with something, let's go get a booth, so we're at the same level and I can actually pay attention to what you're saying."

There was an empty booth back in one of the corners, so I grabbed my drink and headed over there before she could react. Behind me, I heard somebody make an outraged noise, probably her, then several people sniggering, until there was a rather sickening crunch, and one of them screamed in pain. Barbarians can be so touchy sometimes.

I put my drink (root beer, yum!) on the table, then sat down. Then I thought better of it and stood on the seat, leaning back against the wall. She took to seat on the other side of the table. "Much better. Now, you tell me why you looked me up, because it obviously wasn't just to thank me for helping you fulfill some mystic destiny or anything like that. And hopefully answer my questions, too."

"Well," said another voice, from below the table, "It's like this."

"It'd be nice to be able to see you, if you must talk," I said.

"Oh. Yes. Quite right."

She reached down and unbuckled the scabbard from her belt, then placed the whole thing, sword included, on the table. "Like I was saying," the sword went on, "It's like this. We need to have something of ours recovered."

"And, let me guess, somebody else has it, and it's not somebody you can just hack in half and loot it from their corpse. Which is, of course, why you need me."

"Very succinct. Indeed, our efforts to reclaim the item ourselves have met with failure. Fortunately, however, the object is in this very city, and we decided that we needed professional help, that we could trust."

"So...why me?" I asked.

Juia laughed. "Of course we can trust you. You helped us before..."

Right then, we were rather rudely interrupted.

The interruption came in the form of Deos and Meos, not exactly a pleasant sight. At the time, they were working as enforcers for Donovon, a "noble" with far too much money and too little sense (not exactly an unusual state of affairs). Recently, he'd tried to hire me. It was an incredibly stupid job, and when I turned him down, naturally enough, he hired some idiots who bungled it. Somehow, he had determined that this was my fault. Or that my knowing he was involved in criminal affairs was dangerous. Or maybe he was just mad I'd been right. Half the city knew he was involved with the bungled job, but he could buy off the people who weren't afraid of him. Well, most of them. Anyway, Meos and Deos had tried to "persuade" me to do the job for him, for free, but I'd declined to hang around and listen to their arguments.

I'll give them this, though, they're persistent. Not too bright, but persistent. "Nice bandage, Meos, it looks good on you, it gives you a nice rakish look, tilted like that. I wouldn't recommend the chicken here, I think they use rat," I said, greeting them

Meos (the shorter one, incidentally), growled. "Our boss," he said, "wants you to do some work for him."

"Your boss...Oh, yes. Him. I'm sorry, I do believe my schedule is already full. And I do believe I already said no."

"Well," said Deos, the smarter one (there must be a thug factory, one that produces matched sets of shorter and smarter thugs, styled to your specifications), "then he told us to see if you would reconsider your refusal to accommodate him, and if not, to make sure that you wouldn't do the job for anyone else."

"Who, me?" I beamed, innocently, "Why would I want to do that? It's a stupid idea, like I said the first time. Besides, the statue he wants is bloody ugly and not worth the effort."

"Well," Deos replied, "Our boss thinks otherwise. He told us to make sure that you wouldn't be able to."

Meos smiled, showing a lot of teeth, and not in a friendly way. Obviously he still had some sort of grudge; I haven't the faintest idea why; it wasn't MY fault he stood up right in the path of a flying chair. Some people just keep these irrational grudges. Deos smirked and cracked his knuckles. Naturally, this was when my "barbarian" friend decided to intervene.

"Why you bother friend?" she asked, in a (to me) hideously faked northern accent.

"Stay out of this, wilder," Meos snarled.

I shifted on my seat, debating whether something on the table or one of the surprises I had hidden would make a better distraction, but Julia interfered with my planning.

She pushed back her chair and stood up. Turned out she was quite a bit bigger than either Meos or Deos. "Go away, you," she said, dismissively.

Damn. They turned toward her, and Meos laughed. "Somebody thinks she's a tough barbarian heroine, huh?"

He swung his fist at her, with the telltale glint of a blade hidden in it. "Look out!" I yelled, jumping on to the table.

I could already tell I was too late. She didn't even move, the blade was headed right for her chest. I couldn't get there in time. I winced as it hit and...bounced, with a loud clang. Wait a second, a clang?

Me, Meos, and Deos stared at her in surprise, Meos tried again to stab her, netting another clang. She smiled and caused his head to have a sudden meeting with the table, then he slid to the floor, unconscious and drooling. Deos turned, to try and get me. That's when I hit him over the head with an ugly ashtray.