Chapter 3

[3488 Novembreo 4 17:11 Midweek]

The thunder they raised must have alerted the guards. Chris could almost feel the fear emanating from the village as they rode up. By the time they arrived, the gleaming green and white gate had been closed and barred. On the walkway atop the wall, about a dozen archers nervously aimed their weapons down at the pair.

The friezitaurs pounded up toward the gate, as if to crash right through it. The gate archers' hands shook even more at this. At the last moment, the two riders both reined up. The friezitaurs reared and bellowed at this. Their fearsome racket caused the already-nervous archers to cower behind the stone battlements. The two gate guards flinched visibly. Even the innkeeper himself, with his short spear and shield in hand, was daunted, though ready for the worst, or so he thought.

"Oh, it's you again!" he groaned in annoyed relief. He called down in a severe tone which might easily have been a scolding, "I wish you would not scare my people half to death with your antics! From the thunder on the road you two generated, we thought the whole Westport army or a tribe of angry centaurs was coming up here!"

Chris and Darnak exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing. Even the innkeeper chuckled at his own joke. He turned to his crew and waved the off-duty personnel back inside. The archers had stopped shaking by now. They began to make their way down from the wall, headed back to their interrupted tasks. Many of them threw dirty looks at the boisterous pair. The two guards clambered down and began the noisy chore of reopening the heavy gate.

"Sorry," boomed Darnak to their host for the night, still grinning. He didn't look the least bit sorry, though his heavy beard and mustache made it hard for anyone else to tell. "We were having some fun and got a little carried away."

Once the gate was open, the two rode inside at a walk. They stopped to greet the innkeeper, who had climbed down the wall stairs last to meet them. They dismounted with a flourish before the somewhat flustered man. He and Darnak reached out and clasped each other's right wrists with their right hands briefly in a hearty greeting.

"Welcome back," the innkeeper said, a little out of breath.

"It's good to see you again, too, Jeremiah," said the big knight.

Jeremiah smiled broadly. He was considerably smaller than Darnak, as most men were, though not much shorter than Chris. He had an air of living-in-comfort about his stocky build that exempted him from the Legend Societies. His receding dark brown hair fought back some gray. His brown eyes sparkled freshly young with the aspect of age that had found new life in the two men just arrived.

"Master Finewell," Chris said.

Jeremiah clasped Chris's wrist, still holding his spear in his shield hand. Then he inclined his head slightly, subtly, toward Chris.

"Your grace is most welcome," he said softly, such that others around would not hear him. He pretended to ignore Chris's frown. Then he went on in his usual tone. "You're wet. Welcome to the Eaves Inn, once again, friends. Do come in and partake of some ale. I have a new shipment just in from my centaurian supplier in Palfindia. It's really good: I have it kept just the right temperature for best flavor and thirst quenching. Jovann!" he turned and yelled suddenly. "Come get these magnificent steeds into the stables again! Have them groomed and fed immediately!"

The two riders unstrapped their saddlebags from the friezitaurs. They hoisted them to their shoulders as the stable boy arrived to collect the two huge animals. He was a little awed by them, but he had tended them before. As he led them away, both snorted and shook their proud heads. The young man ducked at this as their horns came close to smacking him soundly on his head. Darnak chuckled as he watched the boy lead the animals away. Then the trio began walking toward the inn doors themselves.

"My lord," Jeremiah said quietly, once again pitching his volume to be audible only to the two men. "There are some persons staying here who seek you out." More loudly, he said, "You know Jovann, the smith's boy. He was the one who cared for your friezitaurs while you were away." In a loud, conspiratorial whisper, he added, "I think he has an eye for my daughter. They are friends already, as you know."

Chris smiled and waved once toward the stables, behind the nearer tower of the inn.

"How many and of what guild?" he inquired softly in response.

"Two separate groups," said the innkeeper. "Hey, Stally, try to keep that wagon upright, will you?" he yelled at a man dressed in peasant clothes who was overloading a wagon with some packaged goods. "The first group to arrive numbered five - a sorcerer, a thief and three rangers, I think. They seem to be somewhat uncertain as to your arrival, but they described your knight here right down to his weapons and hair color."

He paused as they made their way past a man and a boy who carried some large, heavy sacks toward the gate. After they had passed, Jeremiah continued.

"It's odd, though, now that I think about it. They didn't mention your beards, gentlemen. They professed only to know our lord here as a minstrel, although they may have known more than they let on. The second group arrived only yesterday, and they number but four. They seem like more reputable folk to me."

"How so?" Chris asked, puzzled. The group of five sounded like some people he already knew, but Jeremiah's description left too much unsaid to tell.

"They dress like men of some standing, and they did not appear to be armed. The first group were all armed and resembled assassins to me. The other four looked like merchants or other caravaneers. They did not give detailed descriptions. They only asked for a giant, muscular knight and a slightly taller than average zentek," he finished as they approached the front doors of the main inn building itself. "We can talk later in my office."

"The taproom during the show would be better," Chris said quietly. He felt certain that the innkeeper had reckoned the two groups in exact reverse of their actual nature. Then he raised his voice to a normal, innocent conversational level. "You have a show tonight?"

"Of course, good sirs," said the innkeeper, opening the main door wide. "A repeat act from a minstrel who hails from Westport, and a small troupe of human dancers from Palfindia."

Several chandeliers lit the large foyer inside, their clusters of candles casting thousands of pinpoints of light from their many crystals. Rich, dark woods unlike the forest trees outside paneled the walls. One passage let out to either side near the front, with more toward the rear on the far wall. The floor was also wood, its gleaming polish almost gone from heavy foot traffic, except on the shiny, multi-colored, natural wood mosaic inlay. This artwork lay a pace or two before the foot of a wide, large, carpeted stairway that led up to a small balcony overlooking the foyer, then beyond to the guest rooms above.

The three men walked right past the large registration desk on their right. They crossed the foyer directly toward the huge staircase, approaching the mosaic on the floor just ahead.

The mosaic depicted a masterful image of the world-famous Southeast Gate of Kalsharia City, the capital of the Duchy of Kalsharia, the Four Duchies, and all of Idlewild. This gate had withstood the concerted centuries of attack from the Romulan armies of old, under the malevolent direction of the Manticora Cult. The huge, heavily armored gate symbolized security and stability in the minds and hearts of many people. Those who had heard tales from the minstrels about that time and place, far away from this inn, found the mosaic reassuring.

Chris stopped at the mosaic. He walked around it to view it as if at the gate itself, from the foot. He smiled gently.

"Nice workmanship," he said softly.

Darnak and the innkeeper remained silent. Before they had a chance to move on, an attractive, barefoot young girl walked demurely into the foyer. She wore a rather shapeless knee-length, short-sleeved, plain leaf-green tunic. She came in from the side passage farthest from the door. She crossed over to stand directly in front of them, both feet planted firmly on the mosaic. Chris frowned a quizzical smile as Darnak cleared his throat. The innkeeper took her by the arm and pulled her sharply to his side, off the piece of art.

"My daughter, Guenifer," he said by way of reintroduction. "She has grown up some since last you were here, but clearly not enough." He turned to his daughter to continue, "Do not walk on the mosaic, dearest. It betrays a lack of respect for our history, and our guests hie from Kalsharia originally."

Guenifer blushed a deep red, then curtsied low in apology. Chris immediately decided that she had indeed grown, far more than her father appeared willing to admit.

"I knew not, my lords," she said in a melodic yet soft voice. "I came to tell you that your rooms are ready."

"And which ones would they be, girl?" asked Darnak in a gentle boom.

"You have the two room suite at the rear of the inn that crosses over the back stairs," she said, standing straight. She craned her neck to look at his face. "It has the handiest access to the taproom and the house dining room."

Chris smiled at this while Darnak chuckled deeply. Jeremiah looked somewhat embarrassed but stood firm on his ground beside the girl.

"You readied for us, Jeremiah," Chris said. "The baths?"

"All drawn and ready for you," said Guenifer boldly. "Shall I pour the hot water for you?"

Jeremiah turned a bright red and almost choked at this. He seemed ready to take the girl aside for some serious disciplinary action. Chris defused him with a few choice words.

"Thank you, young lady, but you should reserve that privilege for your future husband."

"We'll pour our own, so long as the water is hot. And we know the way, girl," said Darnak in as tactful a tone as he could manage.

"Well, I will see you at dinner, then," the innkeeper said. He turned and marched his daughter off toward his office. They crossed the foyer and disappeared down a side hall on the other side.

The zentek and knight both exhaled slowly as they turned to climb the ornate staircase directly behind them. They made their way swiftly to the rear of the inn, barely able to contain their mirth. When they finally reached the rooms, they burst in, closed the double doors and collapsed on the sofa inside. Darnak guffawed with gusto while Chris chuckled along with him.

"She has grown," said Chris as he began to recover first, "more than her father would like, or admit."

He stood to unload his saddlebags and backpack into the closet. Darnak began to pull off his dusty boots.

"She has indeed," he said. "That tunic is no longer as shapeless as it once was."

He dropped his pack and saddlebags on the floor in the opposite corner beside the sofa. He removed his shield, axe and weapon belt as well. Then he stretched.

Chris fished his ruined cloak out of his bags and hung it on the closet bar. He settled his saddlebags over the bar, then hung his backpack on the door hook. Finally, he, too, removed his damp boots. He set them down by the hearth in the wall beside the sofa, where a small fire warmed the room nicely. They would dry quickly enough.

"I will check the baths," he said while he extracted a clean set of clothes from his backpack.

He headed toward the adjoining room door, unlacing his vest as he did. A thought struck him about their conversation of a moment ago. He paused, his vest half off, as he reached the door.

"I trust you hold no ideas of entertaining Guenifer just yet," he said, clear disapproval in his tone.

Darnak grinned as he removed his under-armor tunic. Then his smile grew broader.

"No, of course not, my lord," he said. "She is but a child, and our host's daughter." He paused. "Bold, though."

Chris nodded, satisfied. He continued into the other room while Darnak threw the heavy iron bolt on the doors to dissuade any intrusion.

They climbed into the tubs and sat back, groaning as the hot water worked its heat into their weary muscles and relaxed them. Darnak yawned, loud and wide, as Chris began to use the soap he found set in a small niche inside his large barrel-tub.

"I see that she already took the liberty of pouring the hot water for us," said Darnak as he too began to soap himself up. "Well, this may not be running water, but it sure beats a cold river bath. It's nice that there's a place out here in the middle of nowhere that has a tub big enough even for me."

"They may save this one just for you, my friend," chuckled Chris. "Unless they wash the ponies in it in your absence."

Darnak snickered dryly, only mildly amused by his lord's comment. He was proud of his hefty, muscular mass. He had built his body over the years through a combination of exercise and guild skills. He planned to do even more when possible. His strength and endurance had saved his life many times in the past.

"You should be careful, though," he said with a steel smile Chris could not see. "You might get lost in there."

Chris was a full head shorter and substantially lighter as well. Still, he too kept himself in good physical shape. He had once carried Darnak for three days while the knight was paralyzed, until they could find the right kind of help. Darnak went on washing himself in silence. At least, Chris noted, he had dropped back into their usual, casual manner.

After they had washed and dried, Darnak sprawled on his bed clad only in his towel. Chris donned the clean clothes he had brought to the room with him. He padded barefoot back into the entry room to drop his wet road clothes and the towel into the hamper beside the door. Someone would come up from the inn staff before the evening was out to pick up the dirty laundry for cleaning during the night.

He silently offered a blessing to the Justinus Duke who had thought of decreeing these inns, centuries ago. He felt quite satisfied to be a descendant of that person, however distantly. Finally, he walked back to the bedroom where Darnak was already asnore on his bed. Chris noted the sword and dagger at his side with a smirk.

He looked around the room. The bolt on the back door to the hall that stood between the two washtubs lay locked in place. He went back into the entry room again. He stood straight and still in the center of the room, took in a couple of deep, relaxing breaths, then began his automotion exercises for the day. He completed the routine in exactly four turns and five rounds, then returned to the bedroom.

He sat cross-legged on his bed with his back straight up beside the wall and extended his arms to rest lightly on his knees. Finally, he closed his eyes to go within, to begin his second daily autodyne meditation.