La’Var pulled down his jacket, which covered one of the bell tower windows. The afternoon sun beamed into the chamber, revealing a frown on the hunter’s face. He looked the same when he’d told Adria about her little detour into Gothsin Forest in the middle of the night. But there was also a slight difference. A twitch of fear.

“The inn yearns to serve the Liar,” he said, donning the jacket over his wide frame. “Can’t go against the inn’s wishes, can we?”

At the same time, nodding, Saint Goblin brushed past Adria and snatched a strange object from the corner of the room: an hourglass. The head of the inn placed it by the bell and knelt. Twenty crosses in her grip, she prayed. After a moment, the wisps of smoke and glowing magic matter shifted and began to flow into the hourglass.

Inside it, small particles slowly dropped into the bottom bulb.

“The bell must see a fixing hand before this hourglass fills,” Saint Goblin said. “Else…” she trailed off into a minute of silence before gesturing for everyone to go.

Adria stared into the device and remembered the Auditorium of Sorcercery. One of the Liar’s exercises required her to cast as many spells as she could handle before the minute ran out. She was left, by the end, heaving, throwing up and rolling on the floor.

Adria shook her head and drove the memories out.

Twenty years of study in that place and I could become a caravan sorcerer, she thought, heading for the stairs down the bell tower. Making endless chests of coins from places like our inn.

For a dozen minutes, she took orders and served customers.

Then, Saint Goblin descended from the top of the inn. She exited the corridors beyond the dining hall and headed straight for the Band of the North. Adria was in the middle of writing down a red-nosed man’s order: her eyes snapped to the head of the inn and she stopped the sketching.

“Excuse me?” the patron waved.

Eye narrowing, she shook her head and stepped closer, listening in on the conversation between the nun goblin and the hands of the Liar.

Killmun and Ratbite grinned.

“Have you, by any chance, changed your minds?” Killmun asked, adjusting his bangs of black hair. “The Liar remains immensely enthusiastic about dining in this fine establishment.”

“Indeed, we have,” Saint Goblin admitted with a sigh. “After a plethora of discussion, we have decided that what may seem evil might not necessarily be evil. After all, everyone deserves a plate of warm meat and cold mead. As long as the Liar pays a hefty price and follows the rules of the inn, he is welcome here.”

Killmun smirked.

“Very well.” He took out a scroll, raised it up and unraveled it. Like a carpet, the paper rolled down to the table, then to the floor and reached Saint Goblin’s feet. “Here is The Liar’s list of desires and requirements. He is a man of many needs. But also a man of great wealth.”

Ratbite took out a heavy pouch of coins and slid it across the table to Saint Goblin.

“Isn’t that the advance? Oh, yes it is!” he said. “When he arrives, one more bag will slide into your hands. When he finishes his meal and starts picking out the meat from his teeth? Guess what?! One last payment!”

Saint Goblin snatched the bag of coins and untied it. A grin formed on her face, showing crooked teeth. She licked her lips. Life returned to her eyes. The head of the inn stared at the treasure for a minute longer before closing it and tying it around her waist.

She extended a hand to Killmun.

“We have a deal, my child.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Not so fast.” Killmun laughed. “A deal means nothing -- it can be broken like a man in the times of war, I’m afraid. A pact, now that’s something entirely different. What do you swear on?”

Saint Goblin looked around. Adria was closest. Before she could react, the goblin snatched her and put a hand on top of her head.

“I swear on Hah’Dria.”

“Indeed. With the life of a goblin on the line, we have a pact.” Killmun shook Saint Goblin’s hand. “We, the Band of the North, will bring the Liar and payment. In exchange, you will provide everything on the list of desires. If you do not, we shall take the life of your fellow goblin.”

Adria shivered.

“Bring us more wine and desserts,” Ratbite spoke up. “I think my tongue fell in love with the taste of what you serve.”

Adria and Saint Goblin walked away from the table. Not only would the Liar--the most crooked being on the planet--arrive at the inn, they had to prepare everything from the long list of demands, or else she would die. The same fear of running through the forests of the north, down the winding roads of the south with riders and hounds on her trail, plagued her. She told herself that she would stick around with the inn until the end and that she wouldn’t run again, but the feelings still intensified.

Saint Goblin sensed Adria’s woes and wrapped a hand around her shoulders.

“You have good in your soul and the Twenty Gods will be good to you,” Saint Goblin said. “I saw a small fraction of your destiny. Everything’s laid out. It will be tough. But it will bring out the best in you, the parts that you try to hide and forget. You will go on to great things. Child, don’t worry about this pact -- we will serve The Liar and you will be fine.”

“Thanks,” Adria uttered.

“Now, bring those rascals their wine and their desserts. Just because they’re paying a fortune for the Liar’s visit doesn’t mean we can’t squeeze out more from them!”

In the kitchen, Adria snatched a few bottles from hidden cabinets and ordered U’lis to bake cakes and cookies. Serving the Band of the North wasn’t as terrifying as serving Killmun yesterday -- the hounds had fallen asleep and wouldn’t be sniffing her familiar scent.

The Band of the North feasted for an hour longer before picking up their luggage, waking the dogs and heading out. They left hefty tips: copper, silver, gold and platinum coins. All minted in the north.

Adria looked over her shoulders. Ba’Gan was nowhere to be seen. No one stared at her. She pocketed the tips, dividing the denominations. Gold and platinum for her, copper and silver for Ba’Gan.

A tinge of guilt stabbed at her.

I’m just method acting a goblin, she explained her actions to herself.

For the rest of the day, Saint Goblin’s Inn ran calmly.

La’Var, against Saint Goblin’s orders, went out into the forests for several hours, hunting rabbits and picking berries. He’d left exploring the crypts beneath the tavern for the night.

Darkness rolled around.

Adria, exhausted from taking twice the orders as usual, sat by an empty table whilst the last patrons headed out of the inn. Worries and thoughts of running away whizzed in her head, but the tiredness wouldn’t let her even think of acting on them.

The head of the inn returned to the dining hall and said the prayer, which closed the barrier for outsiders. Ba’Gan arrived too, taking Adria aside.

“Tips!” he said. “I’ve had a rough day of chasing after spirits and I need some coins to lift me up!”

“You spent all day running around possessed items for no reason,” Adria croaked. “You understand that it’s meaningless, right? Once you catch the haunted object, the spirits just move on to something else.”

“For a reason or no reason, running around all day is still tiring work.” Ba’Gan put out his hand.

From her left pocket, Adria took out a slew of silver and copper, and dropped them in the goblin’s little green hand. He snatched them like a hungry hound bit at meat. He played with the coins. Adria grew more and more frustrated at the waiter.

“You know it’s a little light, but it’ll make do,” he said. “Maybe if I let my tongue slip about a Mask of Roguish disguise in front of Saint Goblin, there would be a few more coins?”

Grunting, Adria shook her head and steamed off.

“Good night!”

“Why do I hear coins in your pockets?”

“Twenty gods,” Adria cursed under her breath.

She’d forgotten to put the Band of the North’s tips away. Most people and most goblins wouldn’t notice such a thing, but Ba’Gan’s nose, eyes and ears had a keen sense of anything coin related in his vicinity.

Slowly, Adria turned on her heel.

La’Var appeared.

“The inn’s closed and the moon just woke up,” he said. “You know what that means, Hah’Dria.”

“We’re going down there?”

“Yes, but first we must prepare: you’re not about to go on a hunt without bows, daggers, bait and a pint to heal the soul, are you?” He turned towards the backrooms. “And while we’re getting ready, I have a thing or two to tell you about what to expect.”

Leaving the dining hall, Adria glanced over her shoulder. The waiter, with a frown on his face, was muttering beneath his breath.