Chapter 11 – The Lonely Oak Inn
A week had passed since the twins’ first night outside of Varin, and things had gone much as Sir Kyr had predicted they would. Trading away the deer hide for golden crowns once they had reached the nearest town, Zaphyr had purchased some fabric which she had then made into an improvised hood with a mask sewed to the front to help conceal Sir Kyr’s features. While they all agreed it was far from ideal, and they still often received curious looks whenever they entered a settlement, they had managed to conceal their guardian’s true identity and continue their journey without creating panic in their wake. With most of the leftover funds, they had purchased food and other supplies, and continued westwards towards the capital.
While they traveled, all three of them were careful to keep an eye out for anyone acting suspicious or who appeared to be tracking them for the Master. So far, their worries had been baseless. Consequently, Zaphyr grew more and more relaxed with each passing day, while Zull became all the more anxious and agitated, wondering where and when the next blow would finally fall. Sir Kyr’s thoughts on the matter, whatever they might be, had not been shared with the twins.
In a week they had seen much of the local region of Waed, traveling through grassy fields and small woods, until now, and as they walked besides a local dirt road, the three of them could all hear, off in the distance, the gentle yet steady roaring of a mighty river.
“The Angstroll River,” Sir Kyr said by way of explanation. “It flows from the Karthys Mountains down to the sea. It’s far too wide and deep for us to ford.”
“Then what do we do? Go around it?” Zaphyr asked.
“On foot, that would add weeks to our journey,” Sir Kyr said in response.
Zull frowned, deep in thought. “What, then?”
“The correct answer is often the simplest,” Sir Kyr told the twins. “There is a landing for a ferry which crosses the river, not far from here. We should reach it shortly after sunset.” He looked up at the twilight sky, then continued, “The ferry doesn’t cross the river at night, so we will have to spend our night besides the Angstroll, then continue in the morning. Last time I was in this area, there was an inn on this side of the river for that express purpose, so we shall rest there.”
“An inn? Odd,” Zull said. “We’ve slept in the wilderness so far, why change that tonight?”
“I know you are worried, but I see the exhaustion on both of your faces, boy, and I think that the two of you could use the night of rest,” Sir Kyr reassured him. “So far, we have avoided spending the night in any settlements for the express purpose of making it that much more difficult for the Master’s agents to track us, but should they show themselves here, I will protect you, as I have sworn.”
“Very well,” Zull said, clearly reluctant.
They continued onwards until, just as Sir Kyr predicted, they came across the ferry landing mere minutes after the sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon. The boat itself, a large, flat-bottomed vessel capable of carrying easily over a dozen passengers at a time, was tied to the end of a single lone pier, lit by a pair of lanterns hung from poles at its edge. Beyond this pier, the river flowed past, vast and bloated with waters so dark they seemed almost black which frothed and churned angrily as they surged downstream. Looking at the river, Zull gulped nervously, already vividly imagining drowning in the violent current. Zaphyr stared past to the opposite bank far away, where the faintest of flickering lights could be seen showing where the twin of their own pier stood.
Beyond the pier and a little further upstream, there were two buildings with a single oak tree standing halfway between the two of them. One of those buildings, the one nearer the pier, was clearly the associated boathouse, which for the moment stood unused. The other was a well-lit, two-story inn, the golden glow emanating from its windows beckoning towards the trio invitingly. A dark stable adjoined the inn which seemed empty, save for a donkey whose obnoxious braying they could hear even from a distance.
“Seems welcoming enough,” Zaphyr said cheerfully. “Let’s go. It’s cold out here, and warm in there.”
The others agreed with her reasoning, and together they quickly covered the remaining distance to the inn’s entrance, where they stopped as Zull inspected the freshly painted sign hanging above the door.
“The Lonely Oak Inn,” Zull read aloud, before turning to peer at the titular tree. “A fair enough name, I suppose. And you said you have stayed here before?”
“Several times,” Sir Kyr said gruffly. “And the innkeeper is as honest as they come. Unlike that pathetic excuse for a clerk at the coach house, he will not betray us.”
“If you say so,” Zull said, although he could not keep the faintest hint of doubt out of his voice.
Zaphyr pushed gently on the door, and it swung open as they stepped into the Lonely Oak Inn. Just as the door began to swing shut behind them, Sir Kyr froze, then spun, sniffing suspiciously at the night for a moment. When nothing occurred, Sir Kyr slowly but firmly shut the door behind himself. The night fell still by the pier.
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A short distance away, in the rolling hills, a figure, Zared Choler, strode along on foot. Wherever they walked, the area fell silent, even the hum of the insects becoming hushed, as if in fear. He wore a black riding cloak with the hood drawn down, concealing everything but their enormous smile of yellowed, decaying teeth. Zared Choler rubbed his scarred hands together in gleeful anticipation of what he would do when he finally caught up with his chosen prey.
“A week,” he muttered to himself. “A whole week wasted, and I still haven’t caught up with those children. Oh, but it will all be worth it…”
Choler was known for many things, but patience was not one of them. Ordinarily, after a day or so, he would have given up the hunt, moved on to easier victims, but the overwhelming fortune promised by the Master kept him on his task, and so he continued doggedly following their path. He worked differently from the other killers hired for this job, he knew that. He guessed the others would wait along the most probable route that the young hemomancers would take, carefully preparing traps and ambushes to take the most advantage of their select set of hemomantic skills. Such was not Choler’s style. He had headed directly towards where he thought his quarry would most likely have gone and begun searching for them. He had proven quite fortunate in that task, having soon come across villages whose inhabitants remembered the twins and their guardian passing through, often just a day or so beforehand, and he had been able to stay on their trail after that. He knew as well from interrogating more of the locals that the ferry did not operate at night, and that, without even realizing it, his unaware quarry had pinned themselves in a single location: the adjacent inn.
“Once I reach that inn,” Choler said aloud, his smile growing still larger, if that were even possible, “then it will all be finished. That fortune is as good as mine.”
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Upon entering the Lonely Oak Inn, both Zaphyr and Zull were bombarded with such a bewildering assault of sights, sounds, and smells that it proved almost overwhelming at first. The first floor of the inn was taken up almost entirely by the general room, while the sleeping quarters were located upstairs. That second floor connected to the bottom floor via a set of stairs across from the door which the twins stood beside. One end of the long room was dominated by a wooden counter, behind which stood a smiling innkeeper whose expression seemed carved into his face. At the opposite end was an enormous roaring fireplace built of stone, the only part of the building constructed from a material other than wood. A large boar’s carcass hung on a spit above the fireplace, slowly turning and roasting to a crisp perfection.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Between these ends stood a ring of a half dozen tables, three of which were occupied by present. In the midst of the tables stood a large, portly man wearing a gaudy green and gold suit who alternated between playing his flute and singing loudly. Occasionally, the inns’ guests would hurl coins at the man, although whether to make him continue playing or in a failed attempt to get him to stop, the twins couldn’t guess. Smoke from the roaring fireplace mixed with the thick, rich scent of roasted boar to make the air in the room almost heady. When this was combined with the dim firelight, it gave the entire atmosphere in the Lonely Oak a hazy, intoxicating feel.
“Come,” Sir Kyr said, guiding the confused twins past the tables and the stares of the inn’s other guests to where the innkeeper stood, watching them uneasily.
“Evening, Solomun,” Sir Kyr said.
“Evening, noble stranger,” Solomun the innkeeper said uncertainly, glancing around as if seeking a sign bearing the name of his newest guest. “Have we, ah, met before, Sir?”
“Aye, my name is Sir Kyr.”
Solomun’s eyes slowly widened in recognition. “Ah, of course, Sir. I take it you have finally chosen to remove your armor, then.” His gaze slowly traveled to where Zull and Zaphyr stood. “And these would be…?”
“My wards,” Sir Kyr said flatly. “I will be taking two rooms for the night, one for me, and one for them.”
“Of course,” Solomun said, bobbing his head agreeably. “Is there anything else that you require, Sir?”
“Three of your best meals for myself and my wards,” Sir Kyr said. He pulled out the pouch containing their remaining coins from the sale of the deer’s hide and, tossing them onto the counter, said, “I think that should cover our costs.”
“Just about,” Solomun said after hastily counting the coins. “As always, enjoy your stay, Sir, and, ah, your meals will be brought forth soon.”
Sir Kyr said his thanks, and then he and the twins walked over to an empty table and sat down, waiting patiently for their food. Seeing that there was nothing more of interest to be gathered from the newcomers, the other guests of the inn turned back to their own meals and conversations. Zull and Zaphyr both eased up a little when they did so, shoulders slumping forward from evident exhaustion.
“Don’t relax just yet,” Sir Kyr told them sternly. “Any of these men could still be working for the Master and simply have chosen a less obvious time to strike.”
“Wonderful,” Zull grumbled as he stared down at the table before him, wincing at the aching in his feet from their week of travels.
“How horrible, to have to go around like this, always fearful that the next person you meet could try to kill you,” Zaphyr said.
Sir Kyr snorted. “That is how I have lived ever since…,” He didn’t finish his thought, instead starting off bitterly into the fireplace.
Their conversation dwindled off into silence until, a short while later, Solomun approached their table, carrying three pewter plates heaped high with steaming boar meat and roasted potatoes, while somehow also managing to balance three mugs brimming with ale. With such speed and grace that his hands seemed almost a blur, he set all three of the plates and mugs before the three of them. Then, he reached into a satchel at his side and drew out utensils for the three of them as well, which he swiftly passed around. The whole time, Solomun the innkeeper remained smiling, although Zull noticed that he seemed quite nervous, especially around Sir Kyr.
“Will that, ah, be all, Sir?” Solomun said, bobbing and bowing as he did so.
Sir Kyr waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, that will be all.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Solomun said as he left, bowing all the while. Once he had disappeared, back into the general confusion of the inn, Zull turned to Sir Kyr and said, “he seems just as anxious and dishonest to me as that clerk did. How do we know we can trust him?”
“There was never an innkeeper as honest as Solomun,” Sir Kyr said reassuringly.
“Perhaps he was just scared of Sir Kyr?” Zaphyr offered. “You are quite intimidating, Sir.”
“Perhaps,” Zull said, “But something about this whole situation still seems somewhat off to me.”
Ignoring him, Zaphyr began eagerly digging into the food, saying after her first bite, “I don’t think I have ever tasted anything this delicious before.” Sir Kyr ate more carefully, picking up pieces at a time and slipping them beneath his cloth mask, careful that his wolf features would not be exposed. Regardless, he too seemed to enjoy the meal. Zull hesitated for a minute to see if the others suffered any adverse effects from eating, but eventually he gave in and enjoyed the delicious, rich meal with the rest of them. The three of them ate happily for a few minutes, and as soon as they finished their plates or emptied their mugs, Solomun would appear again as if summoned by magic and take away the offending empty tableware. Once finished, the trio lounged before the fire, enjoying the gentle warmth that it provided for them.
After some time, Zull frowned, noticing a board for the game Mills placed in the center of their table, the pieces arranged as to already be halfway through a game. “Strange, someone must have left this here,” he commented.
“I’m not going to play with you,” Zaphyr told him with a slight grin.
“Why? Because I always win?”
“Exactly.”
Shaking his head slightly, but unable to resist grinning himself, Zull pulled the abandoned board towards his seat and began studying the layout. “Black is winning against white,” he said quietly, quickly analyzing the board’s position.
“Are you going to seriously continue to play some stranger’s half-finished game by yourself?” Zaphyr said incredulously.
“It’s a good mental challenge,” Zull said absently, fiddling with the pieces as he tried to figure out the optimal play. “Especially if I take the side of white. The losing position is always more interesting.”
“Hmph,” Sir Kyr said, crossing his arms. “Maybe in games, but it would be foolishness to take such a stance in true combat. Nobody bets on a champion who always loses in battle.”
Zull’s frown deepened as he considered this. “I suppose that’s true enough.” He moved one of white’s pieces to the top right corner of the board, then gazed thoughtfully at the changed state for a moment before tsking sadly to himself and moving the piece back to where it had been originally. “No,” he said softly. “It’s a good move, but not ideal.”
“If I were you, I would move the piece at the opposite end of the board, there,” a new voice said. “If you do so, you can form a mill on your next move.”
Zull, startled, glanced up to see who had spoken to him. Leaning over his shoulder, gazing down at the board with interest was the man who had been singing earlier. As the man smiled, his triple chin bulged over the frilled collar of his gaudy costume, which up close the twins could see was faded and patched. He wore rings on all his fingers, and as his smile broadened, his front teeth, both of which were revealed to be made of gold, glittered in the firelight. Despite his somewhat clownish appearance, Zull saw that there was a spark of crafty intelligence in the man’s eyes.
“Do you mind if I sit down?” the man asked, and, before Zull or anyone else could reply, drew up a chair and sat between Zull and his twin. “Thank you. Now, as I was saying, if you move your piece to the bottom left corner, black will be forced to move their corresponding piece like so, to block you. This, then, will open an opportunity for a move in the center of the board, allowing you to form a vertical mill and remove the offending piece.”
“That only works assuming that the opponent does exactly what you want him to do,” Zull protested.
The man’s impish grin grew wider. “People always do exactly what I want them to do. It’s part of being an entertainer.” He removed his green cap and wiped the sweat from his balding head, then, puffing heavily, said, “I Say, it’s quite hot in here, isn’t it? I wonder if we could talk our worthy innkeeper into pouring some water on that fire. Of course, if he were to do that, then we would have the problem of the steam, but a little steam never hurt anybody, did it? I heard that it makes you sweat, and all that sweat is good for you. It must be good for you, considering how much I seem to do it.”
“Leave me and my wards’ sight at once, you blithering fool,” Sir Kyr said icily.
Ignoring him entirely, the man leaned conspiratorially towards Zaphyr and told her in a faux whisper loud enough for all four of them to hear, “I don’t think your guardian likes me very much.”
“What are you doing here, Sir?” Zull asked pointedly.
“As soon as you three marched in here, I had you marked down as a particularly interesting lot. You two, clearly related, so young and out here on the edge of the empire, alone save for your mysterious guardian,” the man saved, waving his hands around so the rings sparkled and flashed. “I love to collect interesting stories, and your stories have the smell of something special.”
“And what if someone does not wish to tell you their story?” Sir Kyr asked, leaning across the table towards the man as he did so.
Continuing to address the twins, the man said, “Hypothetically, if one were uninterested in telling me their story, then I do what I always do: continue to ask and ask until I get what I want. Normally, one of two things occurs. Sometimes, they get so fed up with me that they tell me what I want to know, simply so that I leave them alone. Other times, they batter and beat my poor person. That’s all right, too, because afterwards they might feel guilty and tell me the story anyway.”
Sir Kyr leaned back in his seat, yet his attention remained on the stranger. “Amusing, until someone decides to silence your yapping permanently.”
For the first time, the stranger seemed to notice Sir Kyr’s presence. “Were you speaking to me, Sir? Are you suggesting that someone would have an interest in silencing my humble self? I cannot see why anyone would wish to do so, most noble guardian of these fair youths. Most men find me far too ‘amusing,’ as you put it, to be disposed of in so vulgar a manner.”
Feeling as if his head were spinning from the strange conversation, Zull tried to cut through to the heart of the matter. “Who are you?”
The man tapped his fingers together. “Ah, now you are asking the real questions. I am a singer and tale-teller by trade, well known throughout this region of Waed.” He stood up and bowed as much as his girth would allow him to do so. “Vard the Bard, here and ready to serve, at your hopefully generous service.”