An Inn west of Seana, Eganene
Agatha was up and gone by the time he regained consciousness, and a glance out the window showed him a wall of white. His brain felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand knives. His mouth was filled with cotton. He’d felt like this a few times when his sister got drunk, but obviously he’d done it himself this time.
The performers had been right about the storm, which meant he would get to spend an extra night in the Inn to sleep off his hangover and stay warm. Drinking, he thought, was a dangerous past time.
On the table in the corner was a basin of water. Although he had resigned himself to a lack of toothpaste, he was desperate to remove the film in his mouth. Gingerly, he stood and shambled to the table. He scrubbed his teeth with his fingers and then his shirt, thinking about the black teeth his had seen in the mouths of the Inn’s patrons. When he was done, he set his clothes outside the door, put on the rough cotton robe, laid back down, and fell asleep.
This time, when he woke and looked out the widow, he saw only blackness. There were no stars and no moon, although the wind and snow was alive and battering the glass. While he may have slept, his previous exhaustion and new hangover had taken a toll on him. He thought about staying in bed, but rolled over with resolve. Food would do him a world of good.
He found his clean clothes piled neatly at the foot of the bed and realized Agatha had come and gone while he slept. His clothes didn’t smell like soap, but his long johns were no longer stiff with sweat and dirt. Jamie changed and headed downstairs smelling bread and meat, his stomach rumbling angrily.
“Milord!” the barmaid called as soon as his foot hit the floor.
Rushing over, she curtsied, her blond hair falling limply against the front of her chest as her too big eyes tried to see beneath his cowl.
“Jamie!” Agatha called out at almost the same time, waving him over to their table.
He could hear a few of the other patrons laugh. The bar was full, despite the fact that the players hadn’t started their performance yet.
Hurrying over to Agatha, Jamie inclined his head to the waitress, doing his best to ignore the comments. The room was chilly, even with the roaring fire. The Inn’s hearth room was constructed of heavy logs that fit one beside the other, the cracks filled with a crushed rock plaster. The massive wooden beams above him looked sturdy enough, and the wind was lost in the babble of voices and clanking dishes.
“Food, sir?” the barmaid asked before Jamie’s was able to sit.
Agatha ordered and waved her off. “You must have had quite the headache,” she remarked. “I think the barmaid was ready to wake you up herself. The poor thing has been pacing by the steps all day.”
Jamie grimaced, “I really didn’t mean to tip her like that, you know.”
A tankard of ale arrived in front of him and Jamie wondered if the people in Eganene drank anything that wasn’t alcoholic.
“Agatha?” he asked, when the girl had gone. “Do they have water?”
She laughed, “No, but they have tea. I’ll get you some when she returns. Oh, wait, here she comes back already.”
The barmaid set a plate of honey and ginger chicken, fresh bread and potatoes in front of him, and his stomach rumble dramatically. Grinning at the sound, the girl made some simpering noises, and then rushed off to get the tea Agatha ordered.
“How was the rest of your night?” Jamie inquired between mouthfuls. The chicken was blackened on the outside, but moist and delicious inside. Sweet with a little kick, he downed the ale before the waitress brought the tea.
Agatha looked uncomfortable, and Jamie stopped chewing, “What?”
“There was some bad business last evening,” she replied, checking her hair.
Jamie noticed that she had tucked her pendant beneath her shirt.
“One of the performers, a nice gentleman, was speaking with me.”
Jamie smiled at her discomfort, and she adverted her eyes. “These two men came over were causing problems. One of them pushed me...”
“What!” he asked, “Who would push an old lady?”
Agatha shushed him, color spreading across her cheeks. “Well, the gentleman I was speaking to didn’t appreciate his actions either and knocked the man out.”
Jamie tried to cover his smile with his napkin, but was unsuccessful at hiding his laughter. “I leave you alone for a few minutes and you have men fighting over you! Agatha, that’s priceless! I wish I’d seen...”
The waitress dropped off his tea and then dropped a curtsey that left little of her to the imagination. She sauntered off, swishing her hips.
“God,” Jamie breathed. “She just won’t stop.” He scanned the Inn’s patrons, “So which one is he? Did they kick him out?”
Agatha glanced up, “The one at the end of the bar standing next to the guy with the white hair. Green cloak, hair in a ponytail. The one glaring at me.”
Using the last heel of bread, Jamie sopped up the rest of the juice on his plate and stuffed it into his mouth. When he could speak, he said, “Agatha. It might not be entirely your fault that guy was acting that way. He and I had a misunderstanding last night, too.”
“Over what?”
“The barmaid,” Jamie replied with a sigh. “He thought I was monopolizing her attention, I guess.”
“Your money was doing that for you. Speaking of your girl,” she continued, “it looks like she’s headed back again.”
The girl dropped into another, ridiculously low curtsey. “Milord, have you need of anything else?”
Agatha answered, “No dear. We’re fine for now. We’ll call you if we need you.”
If he hadn’t known better, Jamie would have thought the waitress was glaring at Agatha. “As you will, Mistress.”
Agatha harrumphed and fixed her hair again. “Do you like board games, Jamie?”
“A bit,” he replied.
“There’s a board over by the fire. Care to try your luck against your betters?”
Jamie grinned. Why not? With the storm outside, they weren’t going anywhere for awhile. “My elders, maybe. Sure, why not.”
Agatha left the girl money while Jamie went to set up the board. It was different than anything he’d played on Earth. Of course, there weren’t any directions, so he spent a few minutes awkwardly staring at it until a little girl from the musicians group took pity on him and came over to help. She tried her best to get a peek at his face, too, but Jamie was quick to discourage her. He gave her a thumbs up when the board was done, hoping that the universal sign worked in all the universes.
“I’m Kretsca,” she told him, squirming in her chair. “What’s your name?”
He shot a glance at Agatha. She had told him not to talk, but there was no one else around and the child seemed harmless. “Jamie.”
Her tiny nose crinkled at his odd pronunciation, but she didn’t scream or run away. “Are you cold?” she asked him, her eyes on his hood. She had taken one of her scarves from her pocket and was running it in and out of the rungs of her chair.
He shook his head, thinking about her performance last night. That was probably a safe topic of conversation, “You were very good at dancing.”
“Thank you. I love to dance. My sisters and mother showed me how when I was only four!”
“How old are you, now?” he wasn’t an expert at identifying children’s ages, but he didn’t think she looked that much older than that.
Kretsca seemed to understand his confusion, “I’m eight. I’m just little for my age.” Snug orange stockings hugged her thin legs, and a purple blouse and patchwork vest warmed her upper body. Small bits of colored glass sparkled in the firelight, woven like jewels into her hair.
“And you’ve been doing this all your life? You travel around singing and dancing?”
“It is a great life, yes,” she agreed with him. “We see the whole country, meet all its people. There are lots, you know. All kinds of different, interesting people. Some of them are like us.”
She put her hand under her chin in a thinking pose. “We were west before, past the tall mountains. It took us many days to climb those, but there are people up there who live free….” she trailed off, the smile fading from her face.
Jamie fought his desire to ask what ‘living free’ meant. Instead, he watched the fire, listening to the conversations ebb and flow around him. A few weeks ago, he would have never believed that a world like this could exist. Now, he was having a conversation with an eight year old traveler who, in a few hours, would dance so beautifully she would quiet a few dozen drunk men.
“You are a Hunter?” the girl asked, breaking their silence.
He nodded, thinking he might as well claim ownership of his attire. The man in Faenella had mistaken him for one before, and Agatha said the clothes marked him as one. He might as well just accept it It wasn’t like he could explain his situation to the girl.
“You have a sword?” she asked. “You are good?”
He shrugged, thinking of Ian. They had left him magically tied to a tree, and while Agatha had promised he would be fine, Jamie couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving him there was wrong. He knew exactly how awful it was to be bound by Agatha’s magic.
Seeing your parents and brother murdered was enough to break anyone’s mind. The kid needed some serious mental help and a lot of counseling. Ian had needed to blame somebody for what happened. That’s why Jamie had been his target. Maybe if they hadn’t been armed with real steel, they might just have had an explosive argument. Instead, Ian had almost killed him.
Jamie still felt an enormous amount of guilt for leaving him like that. Agatha had explained that the road was well used and that someone would come along and release him. At least her magic would keep him safe from the storm. Still, Jamie had spent enough time alone with his thoughts when he’d been bound by her. He had plenty of sympathy for the boy.
Hopefully, Ian would make it back to his town. There had to be people there would help him. Tobius and Sam, the father and son who’d sold them the horses had seemed nice enough, as well as that Hunter. And it had been weeks since the Family had been there. It might be just the time to return.
Jaime shook his head. There was no way to know what would happen Ian. He needed to focus on finding his sister and getting out of here.
“You are good? At fighting?” the child asked again.
The scarf she was playing with was dyed red and orange, and Jamie watched her tie it off into a circle. She wove it between her fingers and held it out.
He recognized the game. His sister had made him play it for hours. Jamie plucked two of the strings and wrapped them under and through the center of the ring. Kretsca took them from him with a happy smile.
“Are you good?” she asked a third time.
Jamie sighed, wishing she wouldn’t drop the questioning. “Yes, I know how fight. But it isn’t something I enjoy. I do it because I have to.”
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Kretsca nodded, seeming pleased with his answer. “You didn’t see my brothers’ act last night.”
“No,” Jamie admitted. “I think I went to sleep before that.”
The little girl prompted Jamie to take the next move.
The game was called Cat’s cradle. He probably shouldn’t be playing with her at all. The blue edges of his scars were visible beneath the cuffs of his jacket. He looked up, but her eyes were on the strings and not his hands.
“They are very good,” the girl continued. “They throw the knives. It takes a lot of practice, but now their aim is perfect.”
“What do they throw them at?” he asked, curiosity making him bold. Agatha had told him not to talk to anyone, but Kretsca was just a child. Checking on Bekka’s grandmother, he found her talking with one of the performers. He appeared to be about her age, with a forked beard and very bright clothing. Jamie noted that he wore a knife on his hip and carried a cane similar to Agatha’s.
It was probably fine, he thought. She would have come over if she didn’t approve. And it was nice to talk with someone again.
“To each other!” Kretsca giggled.
Jamie pulled the strings out and under. He thought this move was called the Soldier’s bed.
He gave her a weak smile. Of course that’s what they were doing. Throwing knives at each other. What did he expect? He let the strings drop and sat back, feeling the hard wood of the chair press into his back. The fire felt warm against the side of his leg.
“I haven’t learned it yet,” the girl said, unwinding the game into her scarf again. “But I will.”
Jamie nodded absently thinking about learning how to fight with Ian and Agatha. He was so much better than he’d been when he started. And yet Ian would have killed him if it hadn’t been for Agatha. He still didn’t know what happened during the fight with the strange sound.
He scratched his chin, feeling the beard that now grew there. It had been like the whole world had slowed down. One minute he’d been defending himself desperately, and then next he’d seen everything perfectly, slowly, with all time he needed to get his blade up to avoid Ian running him through.
“I do know a few things,” Kretsca said proudly.
Jamie noticed that she’d turned her scarf into a flower while they were talking. She seemed to be waiting for a response, so he nodded encouragingly.
She glanced around, “I’m not allowed to practice yet though. When we were in the western mountains, they let me practice.”
Jamie figured there wasn’t much to do on a caravan road trip in this world. He tried to imagine Kretsca with a tablet or phone and couldn’t. What would these people think of Earth with it’s gadgets and efficiency and leisure? It would blow their minds.
“You could show me,” the girl was saying, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “I need to know soon.”
“You’re eight,” he countered. “I think you’ve got some time.”
She frowned at him, “But you’re a Hunter. You know it is dangerous.”
Jamie shivered, thinking about the creature Agatha had told him about. The one in the room with her just before she’d attacked him.
“What scares you the most?” he asked, feeling a glimmer of remorse for asking a little kid a question like that. “Why do you want to know how to fight?”
Kretsca put her hand under her chin again in her thinking posture. “Hmm. I guess that depends. When we were in the mountains, it was the Boudin for sure.”
“The what?”
“Oh,” she sighed dramatically. “You don’t have them here so you probably don’t know them.” She spread her arms wide, “They’re this big. Bigger. And the ugliest things you’ve ever seen.”
She tapped her forehead in thought, “Ugliest one I ever saw had two heads. It’s eyes were all stuck in the middle of the two heads.”
Jamie felt his mouth drop open, “Umm… that sounds terrible.”
Kretsca grinned, warming up to her audience and leaning in closer. “It was terrible! It was first thing in the morning and it was still sleeping when we found it. I think it would have been much worse if it had been fully awake.”
“What happened?” Jamie heard himself ask.
Kretsca clapped her hands, “Remember when I told you that my brothers are good with their knives. They were able to blind it in those weird eyes it had between its head. My grandfather killed it after that.”
“Jeez,” Jamie breathed. “Are you sure it would have hurt you? It kinda sounds it was just sleeping when you found it.”
“Oh yes! They love to eat people. We’re their favorite.”
Jamie shuddered, trying to figure out how much truth there was to the girl’s story. Was she saying there was a race of mutant cannibals where they’d been traveling?
“Why was it by itself?” he asked.
“My brother said it was a scout. It was far away from its obelisk so we were surprised to find it. We’d taken a very very long way to try and avoid them.”
Looking up, he caught the waitress’s eye. She started his way, but Jamie managed to wave her off before she got to close.
“You don’t like her?” Kretsca asked. Jamie noted that her scarf now resembled a swan.
“I just don’t need anything right now,” he answered. He could hear the defensiveness in his voice and took a deep breath.
“But you like girls?”
He glanced at Agatha desperately. This was definitely not the conversation he wanted to be having.
“I have some sisters, you know. Older ones.”
“Mmm…hmmm,” he muttered, keeping his eye on Agatha. She just need to turn and look at him. What was she talking to that old man about for so long anyway?
“We need to go find them,” Kretsca said, her voice suddenly sad.
Jamie fought the urge to ask a follow-up question and was rewarded with Agatha meeting his eye. He raised a hand, and she understood, excusing herself from her conversation and making her way over.
When she arrived, Jamie asked, “Did I set it up right?”
“Your friend did,” she replied, gesturing at Kretsca.
The kid had taken a seat not too far away from Jamie, crosslegged on a stump seat. Jamie felt bad for the way the conversation had ended. She had to be bored. There didn’t seem to be any other little kids running around for her to play with. Still, he wished she would find something else to do. All the scrutiny made him nervous.
Agatha explained the rules, and Jamie asked a few questions to clarify. The game seemed much like chess, although the special rules he wasn’t too sure of. The waitress came by, and Agatha brusquely ordered more tea. Jamie lost the first game.
He felt a flash of annoyance. No one liked losing, and he was usually pretty good at these kinds of games. He set the board back up, careful not to knock over the pieces with his long sleeves.
To win the game, he would have to take both the Queen and Princess. There were no kings or castles. Instead, he placed the two doors on either end of the row. The door could move as many spaces as they wanted, although not on a diagonal. In addition, the Princess could never be next to the opposing team’s door or she was removed immediately.
Agatha won again, but this time Jamie knocked out her Princess. The traveling girl gave him a little applause when he did it. Her smile was huge and white against her tan face.
“Not bad,” Agatha conceded. “I thought you said you didn’t play much.”
Jamie fought the urge to grin. “I didn’t say that. Obviously, I never played this game before, but I played some chess in New Orleans. There were always people playing in the parks when I was waiting for my sister.” The mention of Elisabeth peeled the smile from his face.
“Anyway,” he continued, “this is better than just sitting around. The traveling circus people look like they’re about ready to set up again.”
“Performers!” Agatha chastised, glancing about with concern. “They are skilled masters of their craft. It takes years and years of work to become that good! I think....” she sputtered, realizing that she had been gushing.
“Well, I thought they were good, too,” he said, glancing at Kretsca. She was gone, helping the boys to set up their act by the fire.
Agatha made her opening move, pulling one of the pawns into the open. Her eyes weren’t on the game, however. She kept glancing at the older man who was now carrying a guitara. His beard was forked and braided with ribbons, and his eyes were trained on Agatha.
“So that’s him?” Jamie asked, moving his knight into the lead position. He wrapped his arms around himself, fighting back a cascade of shivers. If only he could move his table closer to the fire.
Agatha twitched as though he had pinched her. “What? What?” she stuttered.
Jamie nodded towards the man. “Is that him? The guy from last night? The one you were talking to?”
He couldn’t imagine what Agatha saw in him, but then again he wasn’t a billion years old either. The man was wearing a yellow, beaded blouse and orange and green pants. His enormous mane of white hair was swept back into a ponytail at the nap of his neck, and he was definitely watching Agatha.
She nodded.
Jamie won that game. Maybe he’d gotten better, but it seemed like Agatha was too distracted to concentrate.
“So what’s his name?”
“Artemus,” Agatha replied. “You really do have some talent for this game, you know.”
Jamie grinned, “Don’t change the subject.”
Agatha clapped her hands like a school girl, “Oh, they are ready to start.”
The performers were very good though and soon he couldn’t think about the board game, either. After the tumblers and fire tossers, came the woman with the beautiful voice. Kretsca returned to his table and sat next to Jamie’s feet, continuing to sneak peeks beneath his hood.
He tried his best to keep his face tilted away, but it was difficult to remember. The woman’s haunting song filled his head with images of summer, green leaves, flowers and the smell of honeysuckle. Agatha had her eyes closed, as did many of the other patrons. Jamie wondered if that was their schtick. Maybe they were lulling the crowd to sleep and then stealing their money.
The song ended and he glanced at the girl. She was staring at him with wide eyes. Nervous at what she might have seen, he felt his heart skip a beat.
“Where’re you from?” she asked.
“Not here,” he replied, without thinking. Eventually, his heart returned to a normal rhythm.
Kretsca gave him a smile and then turned away to watch the tumbler’s second act. Agatha was watching Artemus, oblivious to the exchange.
The next few performances passed quickly, and Jamie enjoyed each one. Artemus played a fast, happy tune that set the crowd clapping and singing. Ponytail gave the waitress a dance. She did well, keeping her eyes on her partner and avoiding his feet.
Jamie tried to relax. The barman had added wood to the enormous fire, but it was still just so cold.
“Milord, have you need of anything else?” the waitress said to him when she returned, curtseying low.
Jamie’s eyes snapped open and he quickly shook his head.
“Sir?” she asked again. Jamie glanced at Agatha, but she was entranced by Artemus, the old man just now taking the stage, his guitara in hand.
Jamie shook his head again, keeping his chin low and his hood over his face. He had hidden his hands beneath the table.
The waitress remained where she was.
“Sir? Are you not feeling well?” she asked. “I am well versed in herb lore. Perhaps some tea, a healing kind. Or perhaps my lord just needs more rest? I would be happy to help you upstairs.”
“Now girl,” Agatha started, finally noticing Jamie’s distress.
But the girl was already pulling Jamie up by his arm, showing Agatha her back. Jamie didn’t know what to do. He could see the barman was watching them with a smile on his face. If he did the wrong thing here, would they get kicked out?
Walking as slowly as possible, Jamie let the girl lead him to stairway. The huge fire looked warm, and he wished he could sit by it. Unfortunately, it looked like he was going to be spending the rest of the time in his room. As soon as he got rid of the barmaid, that was.
Just as he reached the stairwell, another hand grabbed the waitress. She let go of Jamie’s arm. Quickly, Jamie moved to rush upstairs, but a man stepped in front of him. Jamie stumbled to a stop, keeping his hood low. He did not look up.
“Aren't you just a wonder?”
Despite the hour, Ponytail’s voice was slurred. Food was stuck to his coat, the patches of wet a darker brown than the rest. Jamie shrugged, trying to indicate that he didn’t care about the girl and just wanted to go upstairs, but the man didn’t understand.
“Oh, so you agree with me then,” the man said, anger filling his voice. “Don’t have anything to say? You planning on taking her upstairs for the next few hours?”
Jamie shook his head, feeling his sweaty palms. His breathing was shallow and his skin hot. The patrons nearest him elbowed each other, laughter echoing off the high rough-hewn beams.
Jamie’s fists balled at his sides. All he wanted was to go upstairs.
The barmaid extricated herself from Ponytail’s grasp. “Run along now, you. I’ve got business to take care of. Have a beer with Marcus, love, I won’t be long.”
Squeezing in between Jamie and Ponytail, the waitress pressed herself against him, her body radiating heat. She followed him as he stumbled back, wrapping her arms about his waist.
Jamie flinched, his panicked heart thundering in his chest. He had to get out of here. Shoving the girl away, he made for the stairs again, never hearing the crash as she hit a chair and fell to the ground. He heard her scream though.
Marcus was a blur from his right side, the man jumping up to help, real concern showing in his eyes.
“Xia!” Ponytail yelled, ripping Jamie’s cowl from his head and swinging him around. “You could’ve hurt her!”
Jamie tried to pull the hood back up, but it was too late. Gasps had replaced the crowd’s laughter. The sound was followed by angry murmuring as the Inn’s patrons saw the bluish veins that crept up his neck.
Ponytail took several steps back, his eyes going wide. “Monster!” he cried, his arms spread wide to protect those behind him.
“It’s just scars!” Jamie shouted back without thinking.
The room was filled with the sound of chairs sliding along the wooden floor, of gasps and curses. The Innkeep came around from his bulwark carrying a club in his hand. The man was huge, three hundred pounds of fat and muscle. He did not look pleased.
“Get out of here,” the Innkeep declared, his voice rough with anger. “Get your things and get out.”
“The storm…” Agatha started, coming up beside Jamie.
“Doesn’t matter,” the barman replied, taking a few steps closer.
The only ones who hadn’t reacted were the traveling musicians. They stood watching with curious eyes. Jamie put his hands palm up, “I meant no harm. It was an accident.”
Marcus and Ponytail flanked the barman, several of the other men following suit.
“Your voice betrays you. What man would hurt a woman so? What man would hide himself behind a hood for all his days? Get your things and be gone!”
Jamie backed up, Agatha following suit. Angry murmurs followed them upstairs.
“What have you done?”
Jamie stepped back, hand out in front of him, “It was an accident!”
Agatha wrung her hands together, worry making her look a decade older, “By the gods, Jamie.”
“But Agatha, I....”
“They saw your scars.”
Jamie stumbled back further, his back against the door. “I... I.....”
“They know what you are, Jamie! They’ll tell the next Hunter or Family man who comes in here.
“I didn’t mean to...”
“You shouldn’t have pushed her.”
“Now, wait a minute Agatha. I didn’t mean to hurt her. She was all over me. I thought she was going to see my face...It was an accident. I just pushed her away from me.”
Jamie felt for the door knob. Maybe he could just leave for awhile. If she would just calm down for a minute, they could figure out what to do.
“No!” she said, pushing his hand from the door knob. “You can’t go back down there! That crowd will tear your face off. You’re not listening to me, Jamie. You hurt a woman. In front of them. They’re not going to let that go. Not when you look like…”
“Agatha,” he tried again, frustration making his voice lower. “I didn’t mean to. I was just pushing her away.”
“What kind of man...”
Jamie stalked past her to the bed and sat, his face in his hands. “What kind of man am I? Was that your question, Agatha?” He felt his stomach clench, “I’m not a man anymore, Agatha. I’m a monster.”
The old woman shook her head emphatically, “Don’t try to put this on me, Jamie. Just because you were hurt, doesn’t give you the right to hurt others.”
Curling his hands at his side, he fought his rage. The injustice of the whole thing was just too much. After all he had been through.
“Agatha,” he said, glaring at her. “It was an accident.”
“You shouldn’t have…” she started again.
“Enough!” he yelled, standing, towering over her. “We are done with this conversation.”
Hand on her hips, she glared back up at him. “Don’t think you can just...” she began.
“No,” he growled back. “We are done. You hurt me before, but I’m not scared of you.”
Satisfied with her silent, shocked expression, he continued, “You wouldn’t use your majic in here. You used it on Ian, so they already know we’re close. Drop it Agatha, it was an accident.”
There was a noise at the door, and they both jumped. Jamie didn’t hesitate, but grabbed his sword and threw open the door, prepared do whatever he had to do to survive.