Talis arched upright and pulled off his backpack, and strode towards the inn's steps, so exhausted and cold he could barely walk straight. All he thought of was food and fire at the hearth and sleep. The front door opened with a creak as he stepped through into the warm glow. The air smelled like the roasts back home at the fall festival, of pork and smoke and sweet pies. He inhaled and found himself drooling.
The great room was lined with cedar planks and pine beams spanned almost forty feet across. The once noisy room grew quiet as they entered and all eyes turned and stared with suspicion. The barkeep, a short stocky man wearing a bloodied apron, scanned the newcomers as he ran his stubby fingers through his beard.
His expression darkened. “What do you want?”
Rikar strolled forward and handed the man a silver coin. “Food…and drink, for my friends and me.”
The barkeep inspected the coin. “From Naru-long ways from home, aren’t you?”
“If you care to show us to a table.” Rikar tapped his finger on the worn, wooden bar-top.
The barkeep grunted, as if annoyed by his comment, then motioned Rikar towards an empty table.
The tension melted and the room went back to talking, eating, and drinking. Two girls, of a similar age to Talis, sat together on a wooden bench next to the fire. They wore white silk dresses with lavender flowers embroidered along the bottom trim. One girl was taller and had vibrant silver hair and a mousy face. The other girl had flaming red hair and long, dangling earrings. Her face was painted white and chalky, cheeks rouged, a seven-pronged star drawn on her forehead.
Could she be a mystic? Legend had it they were trained starting at age three: to read faces, read minds, read tea leaves, read the wind, animal bones, and even the future. Their powers were legendary, and it was said that royal houses all over the world valued them at court for their divination skills.
Turning their heads, they giggled as Talis sauntered towards the fireplace, blushing when they caught his gaze. The girl with the star seemed to know some secret about him that she was unwilling to share. Mara darted past and plopped herself onto another bench opposite the girls. He warmed his hands then sat next to Mara, yawning sloppily.
“I’m hungry and sleepy at the same time.” He glanced at the girl with the star, her grey-sapphire eyes danced as he looked at her. She whispered into the silver-haired girl's ear and laughed, tossing her head back, sending her long hair flying about.
The silver-haired girl blurted out, “Is she your girlfriend?”
The other girl paused a moment, leaned forward, and gazed into his eyes. Talis couldn’t break from her stare, and he could feel Mara seething next to him.
“Not yet…” the girl with the star said mysteriously. She laughed freely. “He doesn’t know a thing. Boys…” Mara blushed as he glanced at her, and Talis wondered if what the mystic said could be true.
Then Rikar and Nikulo strolled over to the fire and eyed the girls with unconcealed attraction.
“I’ve never seen a girl with silver hair.” Rikar grinned wolfishly at her.
She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe if you took a bath more often girls could actually stand to be around you.”
Talis chuckled, then stopped, realizing he probably smelled just as bad.
“You’re travelers…like us? From the west perhaps?” Nikulo said.
“We’re just passing through,” said the girl with the star, and glanced shyly at Talis. “This is my sister Nuella.” Her eyes locked sweetly with Talis for a moment, and she said, “And I’m Lenora.”
Rikar bowed, trying to act like a perfect nobleman, but came off like he was arrogant and pretentious. He introduced everyone, staring way too much at Nuella in the process. She suppressed a glare each time he looked at her. Rikar was too stupid to even realize it.
Lenora bowed awkwardly, and sniffed suspiciously. “You’re runaways, like us.”
“We’re hardly like you,” Mara said, her tone sharp and dismissive. Talis chuckled as Mara stared contemptuously at them.
“Now, now, no fighting.” Nikulo tilted his head at Lenora and smiled. “But we’re no runaways, we’re on a quest.”
Lenora ignored Mara, and lowered her voice as she leaned forward. “Our city was destroyed by the Jiserians. Burned to the ground. Only a few of us escaped with our lives.”
“Father says we’re lucky.” Nuella frowned. “But I miss my mother and our home. I miss the parties and the dances and the knights in silver and gold.”
Talis stared at the fire, knowing the same fate could happen to Naru. He glanced up at Lenora. “You’re a mystic?”
Lenora flushed. “I was trained as one…not seasoned, not tested by Sisters yet. Too late for all that.”
“Never too late.” Nuella ran a finger along her sister’s arm. “You remember what Sister Eayla said…about the wind, the wind speaking to you.”
“I haven’t heard a thing from the wind yet…I just hear mother’s screams, that’s all I hear in here.” Lenora touched the side of her head, then looked at her hand as if wondering what it was doing.
“After crossing the desert and these barbaric woods, I’m in dire need of a drink.” Nikulo sighed. “Ale anyone? Cider? Red wine?”
“Father doesn’t let us drink…says we’re too young.”
“Nonsense,” Nikulo said. “In times such as these, ale does the soul good.”
“Well I suppose…” Lenora grinned like she was willing to hide anything from her parents.
Nikulo trotted towards the tavern owner, and returned with several mugs, handing them to the girls first. They glanced around the room nervously, and peered inside.
“I tried the ale…you wouldn’t like it.” Nikulo hiccupped. “I tried the wine too…dreadful. You wouldn’t like that either. Cider seemed like the best option. Harvest time of the year, after all.” He nodded his head knowingly at Nuella and lifted his mug in a toast. “To youth…may you always refuse to die.”
Lenora took a sip, and whispered, “Does your quest have anything to do with the Jiserians?”
Talis edged closer to Lenora. “We share a common foe. Just last week, our city, Naru, was attacked by Jiserian sorcerers. But they haven’t defeated us yet…at least I hope not.”
“Do you have any idea how powerful the Jiserians are?” Rikar said, and squinted at Talis. “Without the most powerful of magic, we’ll be useless against them. You haven’t got a clue what is needed.” He drank the cider, and wiped the sides of his mouth.
“But we can stop them.” Mara glared at Rikar. “That’s why we’re on our quest. Turn things in our favor.”
Lenora looked doubtful. “Father is leading us to Khael. They say Khael and the lands to the north are free from the Jiserian’s grasp-”
“Father said they are allied yet protected,” Nuella said, her voice uncertain. According to Master Holoron, the city of Khael was an outlaw city, filled with pirates and brigands. If Khael was allied with the Jiserians, they probably wouldn’t be welcome. But they needed to go through Khael to find passage by sea to the island.
Just then a big man with sagging jowls and darting eyes came stomping over. He glowered at them and grabbed the mugs from the girls’ hands. “What are you doing? Why are you talking to these people. And why are you drinking this!” He set his eyes on Talis and looked him up and down, and huffed, the smell of garlic and liver wafting from his lips.
“I think you misunderstand, Father,” Lenora said, standing firm. “These travelers are from Naru, recently attacked by the Jiserians-”
“Naru? You’re from Naru? But why would the Jiserians dare attack your fair city?”
The big man relaxed his shoulders, studied Talis more closely, then finally sat next to his daughter. The bench groaned under his weight. He wrung his hands as if they were wet. “Don’t pay any mind to my gruffness…who can trust strangers?” He smiled, as if trying to assure them his suspicion was natural. “Tell me, has Naru fallen?”
“Nay.” Rikar put a whetstone to his dagger. “We repelled their aerial invasion. Unlike, it sounds, your village…”
“Not a village lad, a great city, Bechamel Downs, lain waste by hoards of Jiserian mongrels. Strange beasts, made of mud and sticks and twisted vines. They sieged our city for weeks, as if toying with us, sending us petitions for our surrender each night at dusk. Our foolish leaders refused each time-”
“I’ve never heard of your city.” Rikar twisted up his face. “Well it doesn’t surprise me, honestly, your leaders probably sold you out in exchange for titles in the new Jiserian Empire…people do that, you know. They did it at Onair and countless other cities along the western coast.”
“Who are you, boy?” Lenora’s father said. “You talk as if you’re a king-”
“Perhaps one day…mother says that’s a possibility.” Rikar looked at the beams, eyes blinking rapidly.
“The Lei Family line is in waiting for the throne,” Mara said, her voice terse.
“They’ll be waiting a long time if they’re dead. Enough of this talk.” Rikar stared at Lenora’s father. “Our party is in shambles…ruined by an attack from Jiserian necromancers in the desert. Your daughter here tells us you’re traveling to Khael. Yes? So, so, we also travel to the coast… Shall we, bind together, safety in numbers and all that?”
“I don’t see why not.” Lenora’s father shook his fat jowls left and right. “Yes, it’s decided. Travel with us to Khael, join me and my daughters, and our two servants. Together we’ll be nine.”
“We’ll need to talk it over…as a group.” Mara glanced at Talis.
“All this talk is making me hungry.” Nikulo jutted his chin at their table. The barkeep had just set down a huge bowl of stew filled with pork and cabbage and potatoes, and roasted bread, topped with what looked like garlic and butter. It smelled better than it looked.
“If I didn’t have the gift of sight,” Lenora said, “I wouldn’t say our paths are intertwined. Because they are. Somehow the way ahead is made clearer after meeting you…”
The way she spoke made Talis feel as if fate had spoken. If he resisted, the gods would be angered. For a brief moment, when she had voiced the words, it was as if time stilled, and her eyes were illuminated with some strange fire. He couldn’t resist even if he tried.
Mara elbowed him in the ribs. “Snap out of it.” She pulled his arm, leading him to the table.
Talis was about to grumble, then he thought the better of it. When Mara was determined like that it was impossible to say a thing. He filled his bowl and ate, thinking about Lenora. She might be a mystic, but from Mara’s expression of contempt, Lenora was a witch.