26 – A Bed to Sleep In

“It’s this way!” Grace said, pointing up one of the side streets Ward had already passed by at least once.

“You’re sure? I don’t recognize that store with the balcony up there—”

“I’m sure!”

“All right, all right.” Ward turned up the narrow, winding street and, keeping to the right so his shoulder brushed the brick wall of a closed business, edged his way around a small crowd of night-time revelers who lingered at the corner. He’d been wandering a little while, pretty sure of the general vicinity of the inn, but not exactly. He didn’t mind, though—the sights and sounds around the town were entertaining at night, and he enjoyed watching the people, smelling the woodsmoke in the air, and generally savoring being outside in the fresh air.

He received his fair share of second glances as he ambled through the streets; his attire might not make him stand out, but his height and the pale white glow of his eyes were another story. Still, those who gave him double-takes quickly looked away, perhaps nervous about being noticed by a “sorcerer,” as Haley’s folks had called him. He rounded a corner and noticed Grace skipping along the cobbles near the center of the street. “You’re in a better mood. Glad to be in town?”

“Well, honestly, I’m just glad to see how Haley treated you when you admitted you have an invisible friend. She didn’t act freaked out or start examining you for demonic possession. I wasn’t sure how my kind would be received here. I told you I’d heard stories about how all sorts of cultures have given us a bad reputation—”

“I’m sure your people are totally innocent—nothing to do with stealing people’s souls or anything.” Ward shook his head, his earlier annoyance flaring.

“Ugh! That’s beside the point. I’m just glad not to have your friend instantly suspicious.”

“I get it.” Ward recognized the market area ahead and made his way across the street to more easily approach the bright red and yellow inn. His stomach rumbled, and his mouth began to salivate at the idea of a big tankard of Fan’s beer. “You know, she might have been giving me a bit of a pass, thanks to the ridiculous deference everyone seems to be giving me now that my eyes are glowing a little.”

“It’s not ridiculous! Sure, if we weren’t on Cinder, you’d probably see a lot more people with control over mana, but you’ve seen how uncommon it is around here.”

“Right, yeah.” Ward had sort of tuned her out as he climbed the steps to the Hen’s Nest and took in the sound of string instruments, a woman singing, and the smell of something delicious. When he pulled the door wide and stepped in, his smile was instant as he saw the festive atmosphere—a band with three fiddlers and a guy playing a set of weird bottle-like drums occupied the far corner, and a young woman warbled a raucous jig about riding a mare to market. People danced in a cleared-off area of the floor near the fireplace, and a couple of dozen people stood around the bar, drinking and laughing, toasting and carrying on.

“Welcome in!” Fay called, her back still to the door as she spun between tables, depositing baskets of food. Ward let the door swing closed, then pulled off his pack and began pushing toward the bar. People he passed by got quiet and stared, so by the time he’d reached the counter, half the common room was a good deal less boisterous than when he’d come in. Fan saw him coming, and she smiled hugely, reaching behind her to fill up a tall stoneware mug with frothy beer.

“You survived!”

“And I came back!” Ward laughed and took the beer.

“A man of his word!”

Ward noticed the people he’d squeezed between to get up to the bar had cleared away from him, and he laughed, gesturing to his filthy attire. “Do you have a room? I should get cleaned up before I hang around people with noses.”

“Ugh! I’m sorry, but these folks are in town for the fall festival, and I’m totally booked up.” She frowned and looked around the room. “Hang on, and I’ll kick someone out!”

“No!” Ward laughed again, then, after chugging several big mouthfuls of bitter beer, said, “Is there another place I could stay? Hell, if I could borrow a tent—”

“Nonsense, no, no! You’ll stay with us! Fay can sleep with me, and you can have her bed. I’ve got a great big bathtub, too. You’ll love it.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course I’m serious! I promised you a room, and here you are, weary and worn, and I don’t have it ready for you. That’s that! You’ll stay with us. Wait a moment while I get Willard out of the kitchen to watch the bar, then I’ll show you up.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Ward was already buzzed from the beer—likely something to do with eating nothing but plums and then sleeping for—apparently—weeks. He leaned against the counter and watched as Fan went through the kitchen door, waving off the shouted requests for drink refills. When she returned, a big, bald man followed her, wiping his hands on a dishrag and nodding as Fan told him to watch the bar.

“Come on, Ward!” She walked around the end of the bar, and Ward drained his mug, slammed it a little harder than he’d intended on the bar top, then turned to follow. She wended through the crowd toward the stairs, and Ward nodded along to the music, enjoying the lively strings and the girl’s high, energetic voice. That’s when someone shoved him from behind, and he stumbled. Ward turned, scowling, ready to tell Grace to cut that shit out, when he realized it was a burly fellow in leather pants and a blue and black striped sweater who’d shoved him.

“Watch your step!” the fellow growled, his words slurred and his eyes bleary from too much booze. Ward figured he had a couple of inches and a good twenty pounds on the guy, but he didn’t have to square off with him. He’d just made eye contact, scowling when the bristly end of a broom whooshed through the air and thwacked into the side of the aggressor's head, sending him stumbling sideways.

Holding the broom's other end, Fay screamed, red-faced, “Durnish! You’re cut off! Out!” She had time to give Ward a double-take, squint up her eyes in a happy smile, and then she was off, chasing the burly local out the door, smacking him again and again with the business end of the broom.

“Come on, Ward!” Fan grabbed his arm and pulled him back into motion, directing him up the stairs, past the second floor where his room had been before, and up to the third. “Only three rooms up here, and the best is mine and Fay’s. Don’t feel funny about this now, you hear? We’ve let trusted guests bunk with us before—times are tight, and every spare glory is helpful, you know?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Uh, sure.” Ward was still a little befuddled by his run-in on the dance floor. “They get rowdy like that all the time?”

“Oh, sure! Especially when there’s something to celebrate! He didn’t hurt ya, did he?”

“Nah, just a shove.”

“Well, thanks for not bringing the wrath of the gods down on him, hmm? I can’t afford to rebuild the inn.”

“Nah, I don’t—”

“Don’t go telling people what you can’t do!” Grace had chosen the perfect moment to butt in, startling Ward to the point where he lurched and banged his forehead on the lintel as he followed Fan into her home. “Goddammit,” he groaned.

“Sorry, Ward!” Grace didn’t seem to be laughing, so his surge of irritation began to cool.

“Are you all right? Goodness! What happened?” Fan turned to see Ward rubbing his forehead.

“Nothing. Too much beer and not enough rest, I guess.” Ward looked around the little room, and it was apparent that two women lived there. Floral prints dominated the space, with plush rugs on the hardwood floors and lots of vases, flowers, hanging plants, and needlework art in frames decorating the space. Room dividers built from polished wood and silky, flower-printed panels separated a sleeping area in the far left-hand corner. Doors led away to the left and right, and Fan gestured around, pointing out the room’s features.

“That’s Fay’s bed—your bed for now. The door on the left leads to our amazing bathroom, and this door is my bedroom. Stay out, mister!”

“All right. You’re sure Fay’s okay with—”

“She’s fine! Listen, I don’t know what you’re wearing, but it should be burned. Do you have other clothes?”

“Nah, they got ruined.”

“Oh, goodness! Leave that thing on the floor outside the bathroom door, and I’ll see if I can rustle you up some pants and a shirt from one of the guests or maybe Willard.” She wrinkled her nose, then added, “Rinse off a couple of times before you fill the tub, won’t you? We have plenty of soap in there.”

“I will.” Ward nodded emphatically. “I will. I know I’m disgusting right now. I’ll rinse the tub out when I’m done, too.” Ward followed her over to the bathroom, where she showed him around amenities similar to a modern American home but made of brass and a hundred times more stylish. The light was provided by a hanging gas lamp that glowed brightly in the center of the room. As Fan had promised, the tub was huge, and a rack of soaps and jars of dried herbs sat beside it.

Fan gestured to the soaps and said, “Don’t be shy—”

“I won’t!” Ward laughed, taking the tenth hint about his odiferous nature to heart.

“Leave your dirty clothes outside the door—”

“You told me, Fan! I will!”

“Should I try to wash—”

“Burn ‘em!” Ward set his pack down, leaning it against the sink counter, and started to loosen the straps on his armor.

“What about that armor?”

“It doesn’t fit me all that well. I’ll probably try to sell it and buy something better.”

“All right, I’ll see you when you’re all cleaned up.” She pushed past him, and Ward watched her go, admiring her energy and positive demeanor. He supposed he was lucky to have a bath and a soft bed to sleep in; it hadn’t occurred to him that the inn might be full. Still, he hadn’t been exaggerating—after spending time in the catacombs, he wouldn’t have minded sleeping under the stars. Fan paused in the doorway and smiled at him, and Ward found she was a lot younger-looking and prettier when she did that. He choked the thought off, not letting his mind go down that road. He had enough trouble without having romantic thoughts about the innkeeper he was bunking with. “Do you want me to put aside some food?”

“Yes! Please don’t let all those rowdy bastards eat everything!”

“Perfect! We’ll see you soon, then. I’ll put something for you to wear outside the door.”

“Thanks, Fan!” Ward called as the door clicked shut. Then he got to work prying the dirty, blood and grime-stained armored shirt off. He felt a million times better when it was off, and then when he’d peeled off the sweaty, filthy, scratchy blanket poncho, he sighed with immeasurable relief. He piled it into a ball and set it outside the door with his ruined leather shoes. A shiver tingled his spine as he shut the door, and he whirled, expecting to see Grace spying on him, but he was alone. “I know you’re around, but just pretend you aren’t until I get in the tub, all right, Grace?”

True to his word, Ward stood in the tub and dumped a few pitchers of hot water over himself, removing a lot of the grime and sending it down the drain before filling it with hot, steaming water. The brass pipes came up from the floor and traversed the wall to spill into the big tub, and Ward could hear them rattling a long way off through the wooden floor. He wondered what sort of boiler the inn used. Was the water provided from the city, or was a cistern somewhere up above him? It seemed like the people of Cinder had some know-how when it came to building roads and steam-driven vehicles. They had gas lines, so it wasn’t hard to imagine they might have sewer and water lines.

Those were some of the things he thought about as he soaked in hot, soapy water. He also thought about Nevkin and how he wanted to catch that little bastard and wring his neck. At the very least, he meant to take his mana-well back from the kid, but he might not stop there. If he put up a fight, Ward wouldn’t be responsible if he had to hurt him.

The kid was dangerous with that rapier, and now he had the means to do magic. If he’d been willing to leave Ward and Haley to an uncertain fate against monstrous lizard-men, would he be willing to harm them more directly? Apparently, he’d committed some crimes as he left the town. Why would he do that? Had the power of the artifacts he’d taken gotten to him? Had he found something else before he escaped?

“What are you doing? You’ve been soaking for almost an hour! I thought you were hungry!”

Ward opened his eyes, for once not startled by Grace’s voice. “You’re going to make it so I don’t have any reaction to being startled. Is that what you’re trying to do? It might backfire if I don’t flinch when I should—”

“Oh, quit being dramatic!”

“All right. Well, I don’t suppose you could hand me that towel?”

“You know I can’t—”

“So give me a minute, would ya?” Ward was starting to get used to Grace being around, and she’d certainly seen enough that he didn’t have any hope of modesty, but it was sort of the principle of the matter—he liked to imagine he could still have some privacy. He smiled when she didn’t argue; it seemed he was getting through to her.

He dried off, wrapped the towel around himself, and then opened the door to see if Fan had come through with her promised change of clothes. Folded neatly on the little chair beside the door was a pair of rough-spun, loose-fitting pants with a draw-string waist and a similarly made shirt with big wooden buttons. They were both a nondescript shade of tan. “I’ll take it!” Ward smiled, pressing the shirt to his nose to smell the clean fabric.

Looking back at the stool, he saw a pair of well-worn, oiled leather slippers with a soft cloth lining. He was surprised they fit on his rather large feet, with room to spare. The clothes were simple and plain, but they were clean, and Ward felt like a million bucks after he’d clad his well-scrubbed body in them.

He stood before the full-length mirror in Fan and Fay’s living area and gave himself a once-over, peering with amazement into his softly glowing eyes. “Not too shabby.”

“You are absurd!” Grace laughed from the doorway. “Come on! Aren’t you hungry?” Ward gave himself one more look, still a little in awe of his youthful skin and dark brown hair. Wouldn’t it be something if Andrea could see him now? He wondered if she was still happy with Mark. Catching himself before his mind wandered too far down that road, he shook his head and banished the thought. Why should he care?

He opened the door with a grin that exposed his white, healthy teeth. “All right, sidekick, let’s get some food in my belly.”