The noise level doubled as we entered the tavern portion of the inn. Laurel didn’t pause as I took in the organized chaos of the tables haphazardly littered around the room. People sat at most of them, separate groups in separate conversations that seemed to merge into an incomprehensible roar. And among them the wait-staff danced as if trained by the Priestesshood.

Laurel found a table at the opposite wall and waved to me. As I passed table after table, the smell of cooked meat and vegetables, fresh bread and herbs assailed my nose. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t eaten since this morning, long before the city walls came into view.

Halfway through the room, I realized the scent wasn’t the only thing I was picking up. I noticed the view of ankles beneath my cloak, the faint view of leg as I walked.

The stares felt worse now. Maybe because Matheas’s men had gotten used to it and for the past five days I didn’t have to be conscious of my robes and how out of place I was.

Still, no one said anything and no one approached our table.

“I’ll work on those dresses as fast as I can,” Laurel said as I sat down.

The meal came. The beef melted in my mouth and the vegetable stew tasted like Mauta’s embrace. I don’t think I paused until the meal was devoured.

Laurel watched me without a word.

I wiped my mouth at the end, “I’m sorry. That was lacking manners.”

Laurel shook her head, her expression serious, “No, I’ve seen Robert eat after a campaign. I know the trek from the port is strenuous.”

Laurel walked me to my room, promising to contact me soon. I opened the door to a room almost duplicate to the inn I stayed in at the port. The walls were gray; a small cot stood against one wall, a nightstand with a pitcher of water and glass next to it. The wall opposite the door had a fireplace and a small tub and chair in front of it. A small window rested high on the wall. Water filled the tub while a large kettle heated over the fire.

I used the fireplace tongs to pull the kettle off and dumped the steaming water in the tub.

Stripping, I settled into the tub. The water only turned lukewarm. Still, it felt like the best bath I’ve ever had. The innkeeper provided a small pumice and soap. Once I washed myself, I used the remainder of the soap to scrub my robes.

Hanging them to dry I lay down to sleep, assured by a lock on my door for the first time in my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn light pierced the window making a strip of light on the floor of the room. The fire had died in the night and the room felt chilly. Still, no armed guards burst through the door waking me up, making it the best morning I’ve had since coming to this strange land.

I sighed and closed my eyes. There was so much to do if I am to remain in this city. No, better wait or else another banishment may fall on me.

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I stared at my robes draped over the chair. Laurel said a few days. I rose, taking the blue dress from my pack—perhaps...I ripped the collar off, followed by the sleeves. Still the skirts had three layers and were heavy. On the back were intricate laces to close the dress that I could never hope to do on my own.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, the cold seeping into my bum, numbing me. I closed my eyes.

I pictured the Goddess as she was in the temple, standing perfectly poised, all six arms at her sides. A crying babe on the top right and a skull on the top left, the rest in various gestures of meditation. Her expression fierce but not angry, knowing by not revealing, loving yet hard. No Priestess had felt the challenge I faced yet that face did not appear concerned.

I trained my whole life and now I was afraid of being different? Being stared at? Being misunderstood? Did the Goddess mean so little to me that I would fear for people to see her robes?

I smiled at my own stupidity. The Goddess cares nothing for adversity, only life and death and this will not kill me.

I put on my robes and cloak, washed my face with water from the pitcher and headed downstairs.

I took a table in the shadowed corner of the tavern. A young girl, no more than sixteen approached me. She smiled but her eyes were curious, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m new here, what do you recommend?”

She nodded, unfazed, “I’ll bring you the special.”

Ten minutes later, a plate of scrambled eggs with two thick slices of ham and sliced tomatoes and a mug of water were served. Again, the food was delicious.

I mused that I hadn’t been able to practice the dances since I left Roki. I would have to find a private place. No, first I need income, not even the prince would be generous to pay for me indefinitely.

But what could I do? Priestess of Mauta dealt in life and death. But no one here would trust a stranger to deliver a baby and I certainly had blessed many births but never delivered a babe myself. I was also certain the king did not need a foreign, religious representative as an executioner. Not that Mauta would allow me to take a life as dictated by a man who did not believe in Her.

The blacksmith shop I passed popped into my mind. As Mauta’s executioners, all Priestesses were experts at weaponry, but I certainly couldn’t carry one. Still logic did not quell the feeling in my gut that said I needed to go there.

When the girl came to take my dishes and replenish my water, I asked, “I need directions or perhaps a guide to a blacksmith.”

The girl’s eyes widened, long seconds passed before she answered, “You should ask Mustaf as the desk, he can provide either.”

“Thank you,” I took a long swig of the water she poured before rising and doing as she suggested.

Mustaf didn’t seem happy to see me, much less oblige my request.

“Robert asked me to take care of you, why do you need a weapon?”

“I do not.” Did I owe him an explanation?

His eyes narrowed when nothing else was forthcoming. “Give a coin to the boy outside on the right, not the left. He will take you.”

I nodded, bewildered by the instructions. Still, I fished for one of my remaining coins at the bottom of my bag and followed his directions.

The boy on the right was a beggar child—a scrawny thing, no more than ten with dirty brown hair in a mop on his head, a patched shirt that may have once been white and brown trousers.

I sighed, “Boy, are you good with directions?”

He was by my side before I finished the question, “Sure am, Ma’am, can take you anywhere in the city.”

“I need to find a blacksmith; I saw the shop walking from the gate to the castle.”

The boy cocked his head, “Close to the gate or the castle?”

“The castle.”

He nodded once, “Sedge’s, I can take you there.”

I handed him the coin. He stared at it without taking it. “When I take you where you want to go, not before—safer for you.”

“Oh,” I said palming the coin, glad Mustaf pointed me to an honest guide.