10 – The Hen’s Nest

Ward followed Fayella through town, down winding streets, up steep hills, and past buildings and folks of all kinds. The strangeness of the animals and people began to fade to a sort of background noise in his head as he saw more and more of the small, stocky folk, the colorful hair and eyes, and the completely alien-looking types. Fayella was patient with him as he paused to stare at interesting buildings and people making a spectacle of themselves.

One such group, a handful of people like the scavs he’d fought, performed a juggling act on a corner, howling and carrying on whenever anyone tossed copper-colored glories into the wooden box they’d set out for tips. After watching for a while, Ward felt obliged to do the same, so he dug his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out one of the small, light coins. It was easy to distinguish by feel from the heavier, larger coins in his pouch. He was careful to button up the pocket as he extracted the coin and tossed it into the box. The juggler in the front, a big, black-furred man, howled in appreciation. Ward chuckled and followed Fayella around the corner.

“It’s just up here. See the yellow paint?” She pointed ahead and to the left. Ward looked and saw a large, three-story yellow building with a tarnished copper roof. A carved wooden sign hung out over the sidewalk proclaiming it the Hen’s Nest.

“Colorful.”

“My aunt used to be a poultry farmer. That’s where I was last night, out on the farm.”

“Oh yeah? You work there, too?”

“No, it’s just a country home now. I was practicing my riding. I’m hoping to enter the next derby.”

“Derby?”

“Yes, they have a race at every fourth opening festival.”

Ward started to feel dumb with all his questions, but he pressed on, “Opening festival?”

“The catacombs! They open every six months, remember?”

“Right, right.” Ward followed her up the steps and through a pair of well-used double doors. The inside of the inn was just as brightly painted as the outside. The ample, open space was bordered by a bar on the left, a wooden stairway straight ahead, with couches, tables, and a huge fireplace on the right. The wooden floors were well-used but clearly maintained lovingly, just like the painted walls with their garish shades of yellow and red. Light streamed from the many windows, and the space was warm. Ward’s stomach began to rumble as soon as the aroma of roasting meats touched his nostrils.

“Auntie!” Fayella called out, walking toward the bar. Ward scanned the room again, noting the patrons sitting here and there, some with food and some not. A man with round spectacles sat on the couch directly before the fireplace, reading a newspaper. Ward kind of liked the image. He hadn’t looked at a newspaper since moving out of his dad’s place when he joined the Marines, and he felt a little pang of nostalgia seeing this one. “Ward, come here!” He jerked his head away from the fireplace to see Fayella standing by the bar, speaking to a middle-aged woman with features very similar to hers.

He walked over. “This your aunt?”

She beamed, pressing her cheek up to the other woman’s. “Yes!”

“I could see the resemblance, but I would have guessed you were her sister.” Ward grinned and leaned against the bar. The woman’s narrowed eyes relaxed a little, and she smiled back.

“Oh, that’s a good one! I’m plenty old enough to be this one’s mom, which is what I basically am, considering my good-for-nothing sister disappeared into the catacombs when she was just a wee girl.”

Ward didn’t reply immediately, looking at Fayella to see how her aunt’s words might impact her. She wore a smile, but it looked forced, so he changed the subject, “Ah, yeah. Well, your niece here sold me on a room. Stopped me from renting one from that place near the gates . . .”

“Ronald’s!” Fayella supplied, quick to capitalize on Ward’s fib.

“Oh? You stole him from Ronald, did you? Good lass. Well,” she turned to Ward, “what sort of room would you like? Will you be staying long?”

“Not really sure, to be honest—”

“He’s going in!”

“Oh? A challenger?” Fayella’s aunt looked Ward up and down a little more carefully.

“Not for sure!” Ward shook his head, chuckling at Fayella’s enthusiasm. “I’m interested in it, that’s all.”

“Well, the next opening’s tomorrow, so you best decide quickly; you’ll need to purchase an entrance ticket! I suppose for business's sake, I should hope you don’t go in, but if you do, maybe that could be good too. Do you think you’ll stop by and share your story if you come out? We haven’t had a victor stay at the inn in a long while.”

“Well, sure. I don’t see why I wouldn’t. I’ll need a place to sleep, won’t I?” Ward winked at her and added, “Something smells damn good. You think I could get a plate? Oh, as far as my room goes, something with a comfortable bed and privacy is all I really care about.”

“A bath?”

Ward scratched the stubble on his chin; he was still thinking like he was on Earth—apparently, bathrooms weren’t standard. “Uh, yeah, I’d like a bath. Look, I’m new to this world. Do the rooms have toilets?”

“Some of ‘em, aye. Sounds like you want a suite, and I can give you the Grand Rooster for twenty a night, dinner and breakfast included!”

“Twenty?” Ward nodded, glanced at Fayella, and made eye contact before looking back at her aunt. “Well, that’s awfully kind of you to offer me a discount, but I already agreed to twenty-five with Fayella while we walked this way.”

“Oh, did you, now? Well, if you struck a bargain, I appreciate you sticking to it. What a pleasure to have such a cultured guest! Why don’t you sit down here and have a meal while Fay gets your room ready?”

“Sounds perfect.” Ward shrugged out of his backpack and leaned it on the bar next to a high stool, then he took a seat.

“See you around, Ward.” Fayella squeezed his shoulder, a gentle touch that felt so good on his tired, sore muscles that he found himself yearning for more as she let go and left via the stairs.

“I’ve got stew and fresh bread at the moment. That be all right?” While she spoke, the aunt turned and picked up a large stoneware mug and held it under a tap. “House ale, too, of course.”

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“Sounds damn good.” Ward took the mug and sipped the beer, finding it a bit foamy and warm for his tastes, but, as he’d said, it was damn good on a dry throat. He took a long pull, set the mug down, and asked, “Never got your name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m Fanna, but everyone calls me Fan.”

“Fan and Fay, huh?”

“That’s right! Don’t let her grousing fool you, either; we get along quite well.” She watched Ward take another sip of beer, then turned to the door that, he supposed, led to the kitchen. “I’ll get your food.”

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Grace spoke up. The sudden sound of her voice, right beside him, startled him so, that he inhaled some foam off his beer. As he coughed and sputtered, Grace said, “You sure seem to be enjoying yourself, flirting with the townsfolk!”

He took a moment to swallow and gather himself before he turned to find her perched atop the stool beside him. “I’m not really flirting, and what do you expect? You don’t want me to be friendly?”

“There’s friendly, and then there’s friendly, Ward.”

“You’re nuts. I didn’t even say anything—” He cut himself off as the door swung open, and Fan walked out of the kitchen carrying a steaming wooden bowl with a thick wedge of fresh, buttered bread protruding from the rim. She set the dish before him and laid a spoon with a linen napkin next to it.

“Enjoy!”

“Oh, I will! Thanks, Fan.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his coin pouch. “Just a sec.” He dug around inside, bypassing the golden hundred-glory coins, and pulled out some silver ones. He set one of the small ones, about the size of a fingernail, representing five glories, and then two larger ones, ten glories each, on the bar. “For my stay.” The coins were minted in the same style, each with, strangely, Roman numerals on one side representing the value and then seemingly random etchings on the other. He’d taken a minute when Gonjin paid him to look at the images, but he hadn’t found any two coins with the same one. The variety seemed endless—faces, weapons, stars, even things like mountains or wagons.

“Thank you, good sir!” Fan reached over the bar to slide the coins toward her. “I’ve some other patrons to see to. Enjoy your food. I'm sure Fay will be along shortly to show you your room.”

“Thanks.” Ward tucked into the stew, enjoying the rich, flavorful broth, soft potatoes, and hearty hunks of meat. He couldn’t tell if it was beef or something similar, but it tasted good, so he didn’t spend much effort wondering.

“Good?” Grace asked, leaning close and sniffing his bowl.

“You can’t tell?”

She closed her eyes briefly, then smiled in a way that brought to mind a cat with a mouse under its paw. “God, that’s good.” She snatched a piece of carrot from his bowl and stuffed it in her mouth. “Dammit! Only really works when you eat it. I can taste what you taste, like I can see and smell and feel things through you.”

“That’s no fun. I mean being dependent on me tasting stuff.”

“Well, true, but I do feel your enjoyment, so that’s nice.” She spun on her stool, glancing around the big room, then back to him. “I haven’t noticed any people with any kind of glow in their eyes, not since the blue monk killed your friend. I don’t think wizards are common here.”

“Wizards now?”

“I told you, there are a million names for people like you—mage, wizard, witch, sorcerer, warlock, conjurer—”

“I get it, I get it.” Ward held up a hand in surrender, then stuffed some broth-soaked bread into his mouth, chewing with gusto.

“Anyway, I guess since Cinder is the lowest Vainglory world, not many actual wizards come here. That’s good news for you, Ward.”

“Yeah?” he asked around his mouthful of food.

“Yeah! Not a lot of competition on the challenges.”

Ward swallowed his bite and sipped his beer. “I’ve been thinking ‘bout all that. Why am I doing these challenges, exactly? I’m young and healthy; money doesn’t seem hard to make here—why not just try to start a new life right here?”

“Oh, brother! Is that the extent of your ambition? Don’t you want to see what’s out there? I open you up to a whole universe of possibilities, and you want to settle down in the first backwater town you stumble upon? Do you think Fayella is that cute? Come on, old man, think with your brain! What about that wizard duel? Didn’t that blow your mind? Imagine being able to say words like that!”

“Easy, easy!” Ward laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not saying I don’t want to see more, but, shit, from talking to Fayella and that old guy outside the gates, it seems the survival rate of these challenges isn’t stellar. You think I should risk everything?”

Grace slapped her hands to the sides of her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She muttered something Ward couldn’t make out, then she opened her eyes, folded her hands in her lap, and very calmly said, “Ward, I think I’m going about things wrong. I need to remember you don’t know shit about shit. Did you hear what I said about not seeing any other mages in this town?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“So, think about that. You’ve passed by hundreds, no, thousands of people! Don’t you see how uncommon it is to be able to gather and use mana? You have a real chance to be something special.”

“I was thinking about that. You keep saying that, but that scav I killed was bleeding tons of mana into the universe. I could only take a tiny amount of it. If it’s so great, why didn’t that guy mop the floor with me?”

Grace groaned and, through clenched teeth, said, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, old man! He wasn’t a mage! That mana came from his anima breaking down! He didn’t have any mana in his system, or if he did, he couldn’t do squat with it.”

“But I can?”

“Yes!” Grace frowned and added, “Well, potentially.”

“So, what can I do?” Ward finished his beer and started mopping up the last of the broth in his bowl with his bread crust, waiting for an answer. When none came, he looked over to see Grace was gone, but Fayella was approaching across the common room. “To be continued, I guess.”

Fayella leaned against the bar nearby. “Was your meal good? Need anything else?” Ward looked at her, wondering if Grace had been right. Was he flirting? Not in his opinion, at least not more than he usually did. Had he been accused of being a flirt before? Sure, but in his mind, he was mostly just being friendly. Besides, this girl was way too young for him.

“It was great, and I’m all set. The room ready?” He stood, pushing his empty bowl away from the edge and reaching for his backpack.

“Yep. After me, sir.” Fay grinned at him, and Ward couldn’t help smiling back. He liked how she didn’t make any attempt to hide her missing teeth. Getting a good look at them like that, he saw she was missing one on the top-left and one on the bottom beneath it. Had she been struck in the mouth? He didn’t see any noticeable scars. He knew the curiosity was natural, but also that it was not something he should ask about. Maybe she’d bring it up on her own eventually.

Fay led him up the stairs, down a short, yellow-painted hallway, and stopped at the end. “The Grand Rooster,” she announced, pushing the door open. Ward chuckled, stepping through the door; the name was funny, but he could see where it came from. The rugs on the wooden floor were red, the walls were painted red and black, and the big bed by the bay windows was covered in a fluffy red comforter. An alcove to the left opened into a partially separate room where an enormous copper tub sat beside an antique-looking toilet. Still, it was a toilet and not a chamber pot, as he’d secretly feared, so he was thankful for small mercies.

“Nice!” He walked over to the trunk at the foot of the bed and set his pack on top.

“You know where to find me if you need something. Oh, and thanks, Ward. You know, for making it sound like I did something smart for a change.”

Ward turned to see her still standing in the doorway, hands clasped before her. Her attitude was certainly a lot more subdued around the inn than it had been outside the gates. “Don’t mention it. Hey, let me know if I can help with anything else. I’m not sure what you were seeing the doctor about, but if it’s anything I can—”

“It’s nothing. Thanks for the offer.” She backed up quickly, pulling the door partway closed. “Enjoy your stay.” As soon as the door clicked shut, Grace was standing before it.

“I’m starting to think I can go ahead and walk about with you. I don’t think the people here are going to notice me.”

“Could run into that monk who melted Huseem.” Ward wasn’t sure he wanted Grace walking around with him constantly.

“Could…I guess.” She frowned, then walked over and hopped onto the bed, reclining on the thick pile of pillows. “Let’s get back to our earlier discussion. Seriously, Ward, we need to talk.”