A huge glass tower rose in the centre of the plaza, lit with white electric light like a Christmas tree.
Its modern design seemed almost out of place with the rest of the city.
Maureen thought its wide base, cylindrical design and triangular panes would have made it modern architecture even in a city such as London.
Through the glass, it was possible to see the staircase that wound its way up a white central column to the large platform that resided what - in Maureen’s estimation - was some five or six stories above the plaza.
The platform seemed wider than the plaza itself and would have cast the ground below in eternal shade were it not for the fact that it too was made entirely out of glass.
This would have been impressive enough if it wasn’t for the tethered airship that dwarfed the platform.
From her viewpoint in the plaza below it wasn’t possible to see from end to end, both front and back disappearing from sight over the top of nearby buildings.
The three stories of cabins that hung like saddlebags at the side of the dirigible helped enforce the sheer size of the airship.
Joseph caught Maureen looking skyward.
“The Empress of the Clouds,” he said, nodding upwards.
Maureen grunted.
I bet Ernest told you that too
.
She tried to calm herself.
It was no good taking it out on Joseph.
She was still angry that Ernest had chosen not to tell her what was going on.
It seemed everyone was lying to her, even Joseph to some degree - although at least he had now been honest about the deception.
Did they think that because she was a little old lady she could just be patronised?
Well, no more
, she told herself as they walked through the streets of New Salisbury.
You've given a lifetime of service and look how they treat you, like some idiot
.
Whether or not Joseph sensed her anger, he was silent until they reached the club.
By now the darkness was starting to give way to light at the horizon.
Another hour or so, and it would be daylight.
Surely it couldn’t be that late?
The club was still open.
To Maureen it resembled a church.
Perhaps it was one that had been converted?
Neon lights in the shape of a cocktail were affixed to the circular stain glassed window over the front door.
The umbrella blinked whilst similar lights on the old belltower spelt out ‘McNallys’ one letter at a time.
The muffled sound of music echoed from within as the stained glass windows lit up with the beat.
People seemed to be leaving, the doors opening every ten seconds or so, the music escaping out onto the streets, as the city's night owls returned home to bed
"Woah!" said a voice as Maureen and Joseph approached.
"Club's closing in twenty minutes.
You can take your date elsewhere."
Maureen to look over to see a leprechaun standing by the door.
He was unmistakably a Leprechaun, right down to his green top hat and buckled shoes.
The sight of someone so traditionally dressed surprised Maureen after all she had seen of the city.
"We're just stopping for one quick drink,” Joseph stated quietly.
"Yeah, well it's my fucking club, and I say we're closed."
Maureen didn't tolerate rudeness at the best of times, but today she was feeling particularly irritable.
Probably from her disrupted sleep patterns she told herself although she secretly suspected that Joseph’s revelations about being confided to by Ernest didn’t help matters.
"Do you speak to all your customers like that?"
She asked, not even trying to hide the acidity in her tone.
"I can speak to customers how the fuck I want, grandma.
As I said, my fucking club."
Maureen bent down and looked the little man in the eye.
"Well, if you swear at me again, your club or not, I will wash your mouth out with soap and water."
Joseph shot her a look that she knew said that she should stop, but she had such a mardy on today that she chose to ignore him.
Instead she glared at the leprechaun to make sure he knew she was being deadly serious.
"Alright," he said, slightly flummoxed.
"But just one drink, mind."
"Thank you," said Maureen straightening up.
"And drink up fast.
I don't want to have to be paying staff overtime while you sip at your drinks."
"Rest assured, Mr McNally, we won't be staying any longer than we have to."
Joseph shrugged, and followed Maureen into the club.
#
Truth be told, Maureen wasn't a fan of clubs.
Or nightclubs or discotheques or whatever they were called these days.
She didn't know why they had to have the music so loud that nobody could talk.
And everything was black, which meant in the darkness it was impossible to see steps.
Why did it have to be so dark?
Cubicles circled a small dance floor, topped by a DJ console at one end and bottomed by a thirty foot bar at the other end.
Four dance podiums with silver poles were equally spaced across the dance floor, and in the centre a single disco ball caught and reflected the lights.
The club was nearly empty; a couple of drunken couples propped each other up, and in the cubicles, groups of people were finishing up their drinks.
Joseph scanned the room as it was painted yellow, then green then red by the disco lights, before making his way over to one corner and sliding his bulk onto the seat.
Maureen sat beside him.
An elf sat opposite them, groomed almost to femininity with highlighted hair and manliner.
He was entertaining a large balding man who had his hands all over the elf, kissing at his neck.
"Sorry," he said, stroking the bald man like a puppy.
"I'm taken for the night."
Joseph laughed.
"Ain't looking for companionship, looking for information."
The elf pointed to the man.
"I'm working," he said with just a hint of campness.
Joseph ignored him.
"I want to know why elves are breaking into the apartments of wizards.
Attacking my friend here."
"Like I'd know, I'm just a fag elf."
"Come on, Brommi.
Everyone knows you're a fixer for the empire."
"Me?" he said holding a hand to his chest.
"The whole reason I'm in this shit hole is because the empire doesn't tolerate... my kind.
Stupid bullshit religious intolerance."
"Can we go somewhere private?" the bald man mumbled.
"Sure, baby," Brommi responded, then looking out toward the dance floor, clicked his fingers.
Out of the shadows, two trolls loomed that made even Joseph look slight.
They were dressed in tuxedos, though Maureen noted they wore no shoes.
The little bow ties looked almost comical against their necks.
"Wass'the matter Brommi?" one asked in a deep voice.
"These people bothering you?"
Larry McNally entered the club and on seeing the two bouncers stood next to a cubicle, walked over to join them.
"What's going on?" he asked, then seeing Maureen and Joseph said, "I thought you two said you were just coming in for a drink."
"Maybe I should just go," the balding man mumbled, burying his head into Brommi's shoulder.
"No!" Brommi exclaimed, then looking at Larry McNally told him, "they're scaring off my custom."
"Do you want us to deal with them, boss?" asked one of the trolls.
"Do I want you to deal with them?
Of course I want you to deal with them.
What the fuck do you think I pay you for?"
"Look, maybe another time?"
The man slipped out the booth.
Brommi reached out after him.
"No, please don't go!"
But the man was gone.
He turned and glared at Joseph.
"Are you happy now?"
Joseph shrugged.
"You could have just answered the question."
"Right," said Larry pointing at Maureen and Joseph.
"I want you two out of my fucking sight.
If I ever so much as see you again, I will not hesitate to fuck you up."
"I warned you about the swearing," seethed Maureen.
"I don't know the answer to your question,” Brommi responded to Joseph.
"I'm a rent boy not elven military intelligence."
"See," said Larry, "he doesn't fucking know.
Mark, Samuel, escort these cocksuckers from my club."
Maureen's patience was growing thin.
The
thud, thud, thud
of the disco and the voices being shouted over the top of it were giving her a headache.
And the leprechaun's constant cursing was starting to get to her.
He looked at her and she realised she was scowling at him.
"What?
What's your fucking problem, Grandma?"
She'd had enough of him.
She stood and took him by the ear.
"Ow!" he yelled.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?
Mark!
Samuel!"
She turned round to face the two tuxedo clad trolls.
"Don't you even move!" she demanded.
She wasn't in the mood to tolerate fools.
It must have shown as well, as the two trolls took a step back.
"What the fuck are you guys doing?"
Larry screamed.
"You're all fired, you hear me?
Mark, Samuel, you're out of here."
One of the trolls shrugged.
"No skin off my nose,” he laughed.
"Big Vern will hire us when he hears how you've been screwing him."
The other joined in.
"Come on Mark, I gotta see this."
Larry kicked and screamed as Maureen half dragged him across the dance floor and into the toilets.
"You're all dead," he yelled.
"All of you!"
Maureen hauled him in front of the sink and turned on a tap before reaching for the soap.
"You think it's fucking clever to pick on a little guy?" he yelped at Maureen - somewhat pathetically, she thought.
"Do you think it's clever to swear in front of a little old lady?" she retorted and rammed a bar of soap in his mouth.
She let go of his ear, as he leaned against the sink, the edge coming up to the top of his chest, and spat out the soap.
"You've made an enemy, lady," he said as he continued to spit into the bowl.
"I'll make sure I fu.."
He paused for a second before continuing.
"I'll make sure I track you down and make you pay."
"As long as you don't swear," Maureen said with a wry smile, walking past where Mark and Samuel were standing sniggering.
She felt good.
It was as if all these years she had been repressed and now the worm had turned.
She did find the excessive swearing very grating, and why should she put up with it?
Indeed, why should she put up with a lot of things?
She was fed up living her life afraid, hiding herself away, never letting anyone in the house, save for travellers to and from the gateway, afraid that somehow they might discover the secret in the basement.
And over the years, she'd become a victim to that fear.
What's the worst that could happen
, she thought.
Larry pulls out a gun and shoots me?
Better that, than just sitting at home waiting for unemployment, eviction or death, whichever came sooner.
No, here she could be a different person; someone who wasn't so passive, who didn't have to put up with other people's rubbish, and who would take a foul-mouthed leprechaun and shove a bar of soap in his mouth.
She still couldn't believe she'd done it.
She was actually quite proud of herself.
She found Joseph sat next to Brommi, the elf looking very uncomfortable.
"Are you all right?” asked a concerned Joseph.
"I'm fine.
Why shouldn't I be?"
"Well, Larry is a bit notorious round these parts.
He's got a bit of a reputation."
"He's now got a cleaner mouth," she mused as she sat the opposite side of the distressed elf.
"Now has your elf friend told you anything?"
"I told you, I know nothing.
He's got the wrong guy."
"Brommi here is the elven empire’s little spy in New Salisbury.
Rofen himself said so."
Maureen noticed beads of sweat start to form on Brommi's forehead, glistening in the disco lights.
Would an innocent man sweat?
Maureen wondered.
"I just suck cocks for a living.
I don't know what you are talking about."
"You know," Maureen said quietly, her eyes narrowing.
"If there is one thing I hate more than people who constantly swear, it’s people who lie."
She gave him her serious stare, just so he knew that she wasn't playing about.
He looked over in the direction of the toilets from which Larry still hadn't emerged.
Probably still trying to rinse the taste of soap out of his mouth, Maureen thought.
But all Brommi had seen was Maureen go into the toilets with the leprechaun and two trolls and then return alone.