Read Online Parabolis by Eddie Han - Free Book Online Page A

are even less welcome.”
    Dale turned and took a few steps. He stopped and walked back to the foreman. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest brothel is, would you?”
    “Ah. So that’s what this is about. Damn peaches, always looking for some exotic flesh to poke. The only brothel we’ve ever had in Azuretown was the Lotus House. And ever since the massacre, they shut it down. Now you have to go to Central’s Red Light District. They’ve got whatever you’re looking for over there, if you can afford it.” Then he leaned in with his shifty, narrow black eyes and a change in tone. “But if you’re interested, I can point you to some massage parlors, if you know what I mean. Easier on the wallet too.”
    “Thanks,” said Dale. “But I’ll pass.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    Dale walked back toward the waterfront. Along the boardwalk, just a few blocks from his house, he noticed a soft glow coming from within the windows of an old shop, a shop he hadn’t noticed before. The sign with the image of a grinning pig read, “The Broken Cistern.” He poked his head in to discover a desolate tavern. He was greeted warmly by the barkeep.
    “Welcome, friend. We’ve got seats if you’ve got a bottom.”
    Dale approached the bar. There were three fishermen huddled around a table going on their sixth or seventh round. And another two men sat in the back commiserating over a bottle of whiskey. None took notice of him.
    “What’ll it be?”
    “Bourbon on the rocks,” Dale replied.
    “You got it.”
    The barkeep was a short round man with a red face, bulbous cheeks, and a twinkle in his eyes. His thin lips stretched into a permanent smile and his voice possessed a cheer in it that seemed inconsistent with the setting.
    “You from around here?” he asked, sliding Dale his glass.
    “Born and raised. Never seen this place before, though.”
    “Yeah, we don’t get much traffic down here anymore, what with all them fancy pubs sprouting up everywhere ‘round the Central District.”
    “Interesting sign you got out front.”
    “Eh?”
    “The sign with the pig.”
    “Oh, right! We’ve been meaning to change that. And by ‘we,’ I mean ‘me.’ The place used to be called the ‘Happy Ham’ until recently.”
    “So you the new owner?”
    “I’m the old owner. Been here since—well, since it used to be called the ‘Blue Turnip.’ And the ‘Fishbowl’ before that. I like to change the name every few years when business slows down. Brings in new customers.”
    He winked.
    Dale couldn’t help but smile. He sipped his bourbon and took another look around.
    “It’s quiet.”
    “
Real
quiet. Feels more like a monastery than a bar,” the barkeep said with a hearty laugh. “But what we lack in revelry, we make up with longevity. Thirty years we’ve been open.”
    “That’s a long time.”
    “You bet it is. We’ve had our ups and downs so I don’t fret the slow seasons. Those old sods there were about your age when they started coming here.”
    Dale looked back at the fishermen.
    “Anyway, business will pick up, what with all this talk of coming war,” the barkeep added. “Nothing like anxiety to make a man thirsty.”
    He laughed at himself again.
    “Hey you wouldn’t know anything about a massacre in Azuretown, would you?” Dale then asked. “About ten years ago, maybe?”
    “The Lotus House Massacre?” The barkeep scoffed. “Sure I do. Lost two of my regulars in it. Why?”
    “What happened?”
    The barkeep leaned over and propped his arms on the bar. He brimmed with enthusiasm as he started to tell the story.
    “Well, it all started when the Grim Fox was killed in a freak accident,” he began. “That’s the old guild master of the Carousel Rogues. He ate eggplants that had been accidentally slipped into his lunch or something. Apparently, he was hyper allergic to eggplants. Can you imagine? You’re the most powerful underworld boss, and an eggplant gets you. I just think