Chapter 3

A Good Night's Sleep

“All is Light, and Light is all

Reality itself is its grand creation

Darkness is all that Light is not

Darkness is nothing; therefore, it creates nothing

Fear darkness, not because it is nothing

But because nothing does not heed reality

Let Light guide you

Lest your all, becomes nothing.”

-Tanab of Amanhur, Maxims of The Mountain

Above the inn, a large wooden sign was hanging slightly crooked and read, "Salisa Inn." It adorned the front of a three-story terracotta building, the town square's most prominent structure. At its front entrance, a tall, lean man with a dark brown circle beard stood smoking a wooden pipe with a long stem. He was waiting for something or someone to emerge from the large plaza crowd. The temperature dropped remarkably over the afternoon, and more people roamed the town than earlier in the day. It was still fairly bright outside, but the sky's hue had transitioned from a clear light blue into a more idyllic peach-orange color. The man momentarily put his pipe beside his foot on a small wooden stool. He wandered a dozen paces toward the center of the town square before turning around to glance up at his establishment's sign. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head slightly.

"It's very much crooked!" exclaimed a voice behind him. He turned to see a short, chubby man with green eyes and a grayish-mustache, laughing loudly. The man was holding an umber brown donkey's reins. It pulled a swarthy wooden cart full of cabbage and small burlap sacks.

"You're late," the tall man said. His eyes darted towards the sky, indicating the sun was about to set.

"My apologies, the market was rather crowded today," said the chubby man, looking around the plaza, "Believe me, friend, when I say I was fortunate to acquire what you see in the cart. Given the recent rumors and that." The tall man glimpsed at the cart, and a slight frown settled. He gestured to follow him.

They returned to the facade of the three-story building. The tall man offloaded some of the cart's contents while the short man tied the donkey's reins to a wooden post. "I thought I told you last time that none of my patrons like the cabbage because it gives the soup a bitter taste…" the tall one said.

"I didn't have much choice; ever since the conflict at the border and with all these rumors of a 'shadow ravaging northern Bardaria,' Asarman supplies have not been coming through," said the short one, "the stalls had very little to choose from."

"Listen, Yahmi, our arrangement only works because I need your donkey and cart to haul merchandise back to my inn from the marketplace. What good is a donkey and cart if they can only transport unwanted stock?" the tall innkeeper said .

"Pff... 'Unwanted stock' is better than no stock when you run the town's biggest inn!" Yahmi exclaimed with a wide grin, "Look, I have the apricots your wife wanted. You'd much rather cross the desert on foot than go back home empty-handed, right ?" The Innkeeper, wanting to remain stoic, tried to hold back his smile, but with little success. He reached for his finely embroidered suhayl’s pocket as the short man laughed. He pulled out two gold coins and dropped them into Yahmi’'s hand.

"What of your wife?" the Innkeeper asked, adjusting the collar of his suhayl, "How fares her eatery ?"

Yahmi answered, "She’s fine. I do what I can to support her. But without her I w—"

Suddenly, a tall, cloaked figure casting a large shadow over Yahmi interrupted, "Are you the Innkeeper?"

Wide-eyed, Yahmi stepped back to look up at the one speaking. The Innkeeper turned towards the cloaked individual with raised eyebrows. He crossed his arms and said, "Who's asking?"

"An exhausted traveler," the cloaked man answered.

The Innkeeper was no small man. Yet, next to this stranger, he felt short. The sheer pressure of his presence made it feel like the stranger was towering above him. With a forced smile, the Innkeeper said, "I'm the one you're looking for. However, I'm afraid I have little business to discuss with someone who lacks the decency to introduce themselves properly."

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"My apologies. My name is Anur," said the stranger, extending his hand, "I've journeyed from Bardarin in search of someone. I would like a place to dine and rest for the night." The Innkeeper looked reluctantly at the extended hand, trying to decipher the stranger's cold expression.

"Alone?" the Innkeeper said, reaching out to shake Anur's hand.

"Yes," Anur replied.

Yahmi, still in disbelief and fidgeting with the gold coins he received, stepped closer and asked, "So you're Musafirin?"

"No," Anur replied, still looking at the Innkeeper.

"You expect me to believe you've traveled alone from the capital to Nisra without the help of Musafirin," the Innkeeper asked, brows furrowed, "Surely you understand my disbelief given the strangeness of your circumstances?"

"I do," Anur said, "But by Aldawi it is the truth."

"Very well," said the Innkeeper, "Regardless of whether I choose to believe you, I'm afraid we're out of rooms for the night."

"And your stables?" asked Anur, "I've tried every Inn with no luck."

"Also full," replied the Innkeeper, "However, should you want to set up camp somewhere in the valley, I can spare some firewood."

"Thank you," Anur replied.

"Aldawi guide you. My name is Lamat, and this is my associate Yahmi. Wait here while I fetch the firewood," the Innkeeper said, grabbing the door handle behind him. As he disappeared behind the door, Yahmi approached Anur, raising his arm for a handshake. Anur reciprocated the gesture, and the two men shook hands in serene silence. Yahmi walked back to his cart and grabbed a cabbage; with a big smile, he tossed it toward Anur. After catching the vegetable with remarkable ease, Anur nodded in thanks. Yahmi, humming and rummaging through the contents of his cart, opened a burlap sack full of apricots. He grabbed one of the fruits and strolled back towards Anur.

"I know it's not much, but take it," he said, opening his hand to reveal the small delicious looking orange fruit resting on his palm, "Lamat means no harm. It's just that lately…". Yahmi went silent, his bright smile had faded. He was staring at the ground with a rather tense expression.

"The shadow," Anur said.

Yahmi looked back up at Anur with his piercing green eyes, and nodded softly, then asked, "Where are you headed in the morning?"

"North," Anur replied.

The fire had begun crackling, and smoke rose into the deep purple sky. Flames were dancing to the softened hubbub of the town, casting a soothing light on the acacia tree. Anur removed his cloak and bronze-adorned cuirass before rolling out a sleeping carpet made of baqar hide beside the old tree. His body was aching; he could feel the fatigue in his legs, his quads almost giving up as he crouched to sit on the hide. With his back against the bark and legs straightened out, he used his cloak to cushion his head. He felt the veins in his legs pulsating, and his right shoulder felt so stiff he had difficulty freeing the tension. Wanting to clear the fog in his mind and the tightness in his shoulder, he took a series of deep and controlled breaths while rubbing his right shoulder with his left hand. The sun had entirely disappeared from the horizon; it was dark, with no moons in sight. The air was nippy; he could feel the dampness on his forehead and temples cooling down.

His meditation was interrupted by the sound of a muffled growl. It was his stomach. Hungry, he thought. Reaching for his leather bag, which he usually wore under his cloak, he pulled out a thin wool blanket, a loaf of bread, and the apricot Yahmi had given him. The bread was rubbery and dry but was gone in a few bites. Can't pick and choose, he thought, leaning back against the tree, the cool water from the canteen soothing his dry throat. Head tilted towards the dark sky, he raised his hand, holding the apricot in front of his face. He admired the fire's unpredictable luminance on the fruit, but not for long as he heard the light pattering of tiny paws coming from the darkness beyond the flames. Curious, he lowered his hand and attentively observed the night. Two golden glowing eyes appeared seemingly out of nowhere, staring at him with reciprocating attention. After brief contemplation, Anur concluded that the animal wasn't much of a threat; had it been, one of them would have been dead by now. He split the apricot in half, removed the pit, and slowly extended his arm, signaling the creature to approach and accept his offering.

"Share this with me," he said softly. To his surprise, the tiny creature approached as if it had understood what he said. Anur noticed the creature's two large ears as it came closer, fully illuminated by the campfire's radiance. The ears were almost twice the size of the animal's head. On his journey, he had seen this comical disproportion before; it was a Fannak fox. The tiny fox halted a couple of paces short, then sat down and resumed its observation of the apricot in Anur's hand.

"Are you afraid?" Anur said softly, "Don't be." He sat and waited for the Fannak to come closer, expecting it to understand him like it had done before. His eyelids were getting heavy, and he could feel a wave of fatigue. Impatient and tired, he gently lobbed the apricot toward the tiny creature so as not to scare it away. It didn't move. Unamused, he covered his legs with the thin blanket, leaned against the tree, and closed his eyes. One, three, five, seven, He counted in his head. This odd ritual usually helps him fall asleep, or at the very least, it calms and eases his mind.. Nine, eleven, thirteen, fifteen. As he kept counting, he heard the sound of a soft, wet squelch followed by chewing noises. A slight smile drew softly on his lips.