The tavern was beginning to have regulars. Aside from Haytham and Hyacinth, there was a group of satyrs who came for stew and potions. Kaitlyn would swear they were an adventuring party.

One, Nah, dressed as a warrior with leather armor, a large sword, and a shield. Another, Akut, wore a bow and green tunic. Yet another, Shymzox, carried a staff and stared at Kaitlyn’s magic hands.

The final member, Kekin, looked different most visits. In one visit he wore nothing but a loincloth and carried a hammer. The next time he carried a lute, which he tried to play until the warrior smashed it. Kaitlyn had very quietly slipped Nah an extra bowl of stew for free. In this latest visit Kekin was wearing a mantle that once had been white with a symbol of a tree on it.

Kaitlyn brought out their stews and said, “I also have something new, a blackberry mead.”

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” Akut said, “We will have a round. On me.”

“It is three coppers a cup,” Kaitlyn warned. “And I will say, it is fairly strong.”

“Wonderful!” Shymzox said exuberantly, “I’ll have two.”

Kaitlyn brought out the cups of mead, her second batch and this time made in the still. It wasn’t quite as strong, and when the satyrs tried it, their eyes went wide. Nah looked at her and said, “Mistress Kaitlyn, this is… glorious! We shall come here more often now.”

“I look forward to it,” Kaitlyn said.

The dwarves which came regularly had been taciturn, and she didn’t know their names. She could tell two them were miners, though she had no clue where they might have a mine anywhere in the forest. Although there were hills, she didn’t believe there were mountains or deep veins. Several other dwarves were clearly scholars, tinkers, or smiths of one kind of or another. This second type of dwarf often came alone with either a book or a project they were working on.

“Excuse me,” Kaitlyn said as she set down a bowl of stew and a tankard of mead for a smith dwarf who had come.

“Ah, thank ya miss,” the dwarf said, and then returned to trying to pry a jewel from a box of iron.

Kaitlyn paused and then said, “Would you mind answering a question?”

“Only if I can have some of yer bread free.”

“Certainly,” Kaitlyn nodded, “why do you come here sometimes? I thought… I’m sorry if this is rude, I just want to understand better…”

“Dwarves ain’t good always underground,” the dwarf interrupted her. “Royal mandate says we have ta go above ground once a month. Some of us go up a little more ‘cause the fresh air is good for us. Me? I like to get away from the hub of the tunnels and the noise. Helps me think.”

“Thank you,” Kaitlyn said. It helped to understand what her patrons might want, and knowing the dwarves needed this time above ground, she then started making sure to have flowers on the table when they came. The ones who looked anxious or unhappy, she could have Cilvic come into the front yard and work on something loud. It surprised her to see this helped them relax. Cilvic thought it was hilarious.

Linnmel began coming as a patron as well, and the first time she transformed into a human woman Kaitlyn stared at the dragon woman, mouth hanging open. Linnmel didn’t look entirely human, she still had horns and slight green tinge to her skin, her nails were claw-like, but otherwise she looked incredibly human in a dragon-leather dress which clung tightly to her form.

“How do you think dragon can have children with almost any other race?” Linnmel asked. “We can change our forms into most creatures if we choose, though some are easier than others and some we can get better with practice.”

“I… had never heard dragons had this ability,” Kaitlyn stammered.

From the side Fapallo whistled, “Dragons are almost all mages. Mages can do this thing.”

“Could I…. Could I learn this?” Kaitlyn asked, looking between son and mother excitedly.

Linnmel laughed and said, “Most certainly in a century or two. It takes more than raw power, it requires a knowledge both of your original form and the one you attempt to join which is difficult to develop. Most dragons master only one or two forms in their first few centuries.”

“Ah,” Kaitlyn said and then folded her hands and said, “How may I serve you Lady Linnmel?”

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Linnmel smiled and said, “I am meeting a friend of mine here. We have not seen one another for many decades. This was a good…. neutral place.”

Linnmel’s ‘friend’ turned out to be a dragon of white and silver twice her own size. Kaitlyn couldn’t help but try to listen a little to the dragons speaking with one another, the silver dragon transforming into a snow-white troll covered in a white-fur outfit. The little Kaitlyn heard and understood, they really were just ‘catching up’ with one another. Linnmel however soon became a very regular customer meeting with friends of various species over either tea or mead.

The first time fairies came to the tavern Kaitlyn almost banned the species. To say they were invasive and rude would be generous. They followed Kaitlyn constantly, she even caught one trying to watch her through a crack in the outhouse door. If Javorora had not been present, Kaitlyn might have actually banned them. Instead, Kaitlyn set some very firm rules when they arrived and soon began to appreciate the collection of fairy dust she was able to routinely gather after they hosted a party.

By far, Kaitlyn’s favorite patrons were werewolves. She was surprised when the beast men walked to the edge of her clearing and shook out their wolf forms. The pack of six were four males and two females and sat at an outside table.

“Welcome to the Witch’s Brew,” Kaitlyn said as she approached. “I can offer you herbal teas for a copper a pot, stew for a copper a bowl this size, or mead for three coppers a cup.”

“Stew for each of us and three pots of tea, six cups,” the male who had previously been a grey wolf with black front feet.

When Kaitlyn returned with their food, she found Fapallo sitting with the pack, chatting amiably. Two of the werewolves could speak some dragonic and Fapallo was telling a terrible joke. The female who could understand was a redhead with blue eyes, and translated the joke as Fapallo whistled.

The pack howled with laughter and the pack leader smiled at Kaitlyn when she set the bowl down. He mouthed, “Thank you” to avoid interrupting the dragon kin and she felt heat flush her cheeks.

After they had eaten, the werewolves began a bit of singing and drumming. They were joined by the dwarf who sat at the other table, and Javorora came outside to dance on the table while they sang.

Kaitlyn took the dishes back to the kitchen and had her magic hands begin to scrub them while she began kneading more dough for bread. She looked up at a knock on the door to see the werewolf standing in the doorway, looking a little sheepish.

“Forgive me mistress, was our singing too much?” he asked.

“Not at all, I am enjoying hearing it,” Kaitlyn said with a smile. “It’s very nice to hear so much fun around here. even if it’s just a song.”

“Well, if your stew is always this good, we will certainly come again,” he said.

“I am Kaitlyn by the by. I’d offer to shake hands, but mine are covered in flour.”

“If the smell of that bread is any indication of the available option here, I will not be the least insulted you didn’t shake my hand,” he flashed a grin and she finally paused to really look at him.

He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and hair that was almost a grey color but also brown. His beard was dark, almost black and contrasted with his green-grey eyes. He wasn’t handsome, but he was not ugly either. He was simply… solid.

“I am Rashir, the alpha of this pack,” he said. “I wanted to make sure our singing was not unwelcome, please feel free to come and join us.”

Kaitlyn did. She was very glad when Javorora pulled her into a happy jig, and laughed at the mock fighting the werewolves engaged in later, pretending to fight with exaggerated claims and much laughter. The werewolves were great customers every time they came to the tavern after that. They eventually brought a drum, a fiddle, and a horn which some of the members could play.

Rashir sang. He occasionally would agree to sing a ballad or other song which was sad and beautiful. The tone of his voice and the songs he knew brought tears to the patrons’ eyes, and to Kaitlyn’s eyes. She always made sure to make the best honey bread as soon as they arrived, and if they sang, danced, or mock-fought they got at least one loaf for free.

Werewolves, dwarves, dragons, and elves also made good patrons because all of them could help if another patron began to be unruly. Kaitlyn had never had problems until she began serving mead, but then she began to see the meanest and the saddest emotions from people who drank.

She had quickly asked Master Garthis for new spells. He gave her a new spell book which was designed for battle mages. She didn’t like most of the spells, but did modify a distraction spell which put an illusion in front of a creature. She asked him why he would not teach her more aggressive spells.

“Honestly, there are two reasons,” he said. “The first is that you have a well of power that… I am worried it still can get out of control. What happened when you unraveled the people-eating spell, you took a spell that is not supposed to be used that way…. the only beings I’ve ever known who could manage that kind of plant control had a natural affinity like dryads. But they are limited to their own trees. You are not, and the amount of power you can pull on… I want to make sure you can control what you are doing.”

Kaitlyn crossed her arms and said, “You make me sound dangerous.”

Her master reached out and put a hand on her arm and said, “You could be. If I taught you how to cast a full fireball beyond the flame spell you already know… what happens if you get too much and set fire to the forest? I don’t want you to lose control of something like that.”

She looked at him, hurt. He then said, “I also don’t want you to have the guilt of hurting someone more than you mean to. Killing a sentient being is not something to take lightly. If I can protect you from ever experiencing that, I will. Even if it’s an accident because you made something too powerful, that is a guilt you can never erase. Unicorns turn black with each life they take. I don’t want to learn whether your hair turns black with each life you take.”

Kaitlyn considered this and then nodded a little. She trusted Master Garthis and she appreciated his honesty, even when she didn’t want to hear all of it. She also sensed he was trying to protect her, which both felt very good and very frustrating. She slowly unfolded her arms and nodded, “Ok. Non-lethal spells. Probably better for business if I don’t kill my patrons, either by accident or on purpose.”