‘It saw you,’ said Case, amazed. ‘It must have.’
‘Those things don’t seem to want to kill me. Maybe it was just too busy, for now. Come on. Let’s get to those buildings, get a roof overhead.’
‘Food in the belly,’ Case murmured.
35
The first building they came to did appear to be an inn. It was built like a large wooden cottage, two storeys, a sign out front with a painted bed, spoon and plate. All up and down a narrow side road running off the main one were several such buildings, perhaps with enough total beds to house a large army patrol. There was a smell of hay from nearby stables. Only a couple of the buildings had lights on, all the others appeared to be locked up. No people walked the street and there was eerie quiet. ‘Everyone’s hiding,’ said Case.
‘They might have heard the war mage and put out their lights,’ said Eric. In truth he feared walking into one of these buildings and finding a scene similar to the hunters’ hall, and it took more courage than he let on to go inside. As planned, Case donned the charm and followed him closely, trying to keep his footsteps in sync so they weren’t heard. The inn’s lower floor was a dimly lit tavern with round wooden tables and booths, deserted but for a girl wiping the bar and a pair of men, dressed in dark robes like druids, having a secretive discussion over cups of mead.
The girl stopped wiping tables and peered in utter bewilderment at Eric’s shoes, business shirt and slacks. She had the peculiar look of heavily Asian features with blonde hair and very pale skin. She seemed unsure whether hostility or reverence was required. The two druid-types also turned to stare, and kept staring at him, clearly unnerved, as though Eric were some kind of omen. ‘Your need?’ the girl demanded.
‘A meal, a bed. Two meals, if possible. I’m very hungry.’ Case pushed the scales into Eric’s pocket.
‘Where from?’ said the girl. ‘What city?’
‘I have no city.’
Wrong answer. The girl backed away, eyes wide with fright. ‘There are rules here. We follow them. What city?’
‘What’s the name of a city?’ Eric whispered behind his hand.
‘Trying to think, give me a sec,’ Case whispered back. ‘Esk! Esk’s one. They kept talking about swords from Esk, remember?’
‘I’m from Esk,’ Eric said to the girl.
She looked dubious, but approached him with a hand out for payment. He showed her a red scale, and her face lit up with wonder. She curtsied. ‘Good sir! I’ll fetch your meals. Your room’s second door, upstairs.’
‘Ale, too, if you please. Two mugs.’ She nodded and bustled away.
‘Damn it,’ Eric muttered, taking a seat by a window, out of view of the two strange men, who had gaped in disbelief on sight of the red scale.
‘What is it?’ said Case.
‘See how she reacted? The scale’s way too much payment. And keep an eye on those creepy guys. They might want to see if I’ve got any more of them in my pocket.’
The girl wasn’t long with the drinks, but food took a painful time longer. Eric felt the strange-tasting ale go to his head very quickly after the long day’s walk. He reflected that he could feel the softer edges being chipped off himself and hardened with each new day here. He had never been comfortable around hard men, biker types, gang types or even cops. Now he knew what death looked like, knew it was real, and could feel a change coming which there was no choice but to welcome, since it was needed.
The serving girl brought two more full cups without being asked. Case sipped from his discreetly, trying to hide its movements. If he clutched the cup for a little while, it fell under the charm’s influence, and vanished until he let it go.
A strongly built man in a kitchen apron, resembling the girl enough to be her father, finally brought out two steaming plates. Leeks, potatoes and slices of meat were piled on it. It looked fairly plain fare but Eric had never been more glad to see such in his life. ‘Good sir,’ said the man with exaggerated politeness, bowing. He eyed the two half-finished cups for a moment. ‘We’ve had issue with your scale.’
‘It’s real, I assure you.’
The man chuckled. ‘No question there! My heaviest cudgel won’t break it. But I’ve not enough gold in shop to exchange it fairly. None, in fact. Have you coin or other means?’
‘I don’t.’ And I think you probably know it.
‘Then I’m afraid you’ll be paying too much for your room.’
‘Exchange it as fairly as you can,’ Eric said. ‘I’ll take as fair a trade as you can manage.’
The innkeeper nodded, departed, and returned with a small tied bag of coins, which he dropped on the table. ‘Best I can do, good sir.’
Eric examined the flat copper and silver discs with no idea of their worth, but he made a show of his disappointment. ‘Some provisions for the road as well, perhaps?’
‘Aye, in the morning if you like. Not many pay for rooms at an inn with scales, as you’d know. Strange accent you have. Esk, is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Long way to come on foot.’
‘I know that much very well.’
‘You have no gear with you.’
‘I did, until recently.’
The man nodded, though his look was hard to read. ‘So you know, a patrol comes through tomorrow, and all beds are taken.’
Eric nodded as though this were no problem, but cursed inside; he’d hoped for a few days’ rest. When the innkeeper departed, Case whispered, ‘He doesn’t trust you. See the way he looked at the two plates, two cups? He smells a rat, wants us out with no trouble. Bet there’s no patrol coming tomorrow at all. He might’ve said that to see if you’ll bolt, see if you’re a fugitive. We better be careful here. Take it easy with that drink. Might have to think fast.’
They devoured their meal and their ales without speaking. The meat was of a kind neither of them had tasted before, apparently one of the native species, salty and tender, smothered thick in gravy. Eric ordered two more ales and let Case drink both.
The upstairs room was tiny, but had a sizeable bed with a straw mattress. ‘I’ll take a different room,’ said Case. ‘There’s plenty, all vacant. You keep the gun since I got the charm. They won’t see me in the beds.’
‘Hope you don’t snore,’ said Eric.
‘Hope I don’t piss the bed, too, but I just might.’ His footsteps padded away.
Eric had just lain down and deemed this scratchy dust-smelling excuse for a bed the most comfortable in all creation, when again came the war mage’s shriek, not far distant. A minute passed before it came again, closer, as though it had just passed over the very roof of the inn, and was speaking to him personally. Then there was silence. ‘Good night to you too,’ Eric whispered, setting the gun within reach as he sank into sleep.
The quiet sound of a familiar high-pitched, maddening laugh was what woke him, not the daylight. He might otherwise have slept for the whole day.
Kiown sat cross-legged on the bed by his feet, head tilted so his cone of red hair drooped down to the right, fists pressed to his chin. ‘Good morning to you,’ he said, head bobbing to accentuate each word like a whistling bird. ‘Mmmm! You have come so far, Eric of Otherworld, brave worthy Eric, inn-finder, roadwalker, magpie-slayer!’
Eric thought he was still dreaming. He glanced at where the gun lay hidden by his discarded shirt. ‘What are you doing here? How’d you find us?’
‘I stayed here last night,’ said Kiown. ‘Must have just missed you downstairs! Quite a coincidence. Or … is it?’ He cackled.
‘Is Anfen here, too?’
‘Nope! Which is curious. Because, although he isn’t, you are. And I thought we’d all agreed you were Anfen’s property. He must have a hole in his pocket!’
‘I’ll explain what happened. Just let me wake up first.’
‘I know some of what happened to you. But first, that black scale. Still got it? Do I ever have an offer for you.’