The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  "I'll be happy to take care of your horses…," he began to say, but the tall one cut him off.

  "We came by ship, boy." She looked off toward the tavern. "You have a bathing room I hope?"

  "Last two doors," Sim said pointing down a hallway to his left.

  "We'll be taking a bath first, but I expect two plates of tonight's special and a bottle of good wine waiting for us on a corner table when we are ready."

  "I'll see to it, kind mistress," Sim replied, half mockingly.

  "This way, my Lady," the tall one said turning to the blond haired beauty and pointing toward the stairs. For just a moment, the blonde's sapphire eyes locked onto Sim's eyes leaving him paralyzed. Her lips curved into a half smile and without a word she floated past him, following her companion up the stairs. It wasn't until a short time later, when Sevin smacked him in the back of the head and yelled at him for his laziness, that Sim came back to reality and tried to put the mysterious beauty out of his mind.

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  Of course Sim tried over that next hour to think of something, anything other than those two women, but his efforts were futile. He was still lost in the grip of those sapphire eyes, unable to sort out rhyme or reason, doddering around the common room like a lovelorn fool. Never before in his short life had Sim felt so weak and helpless. He'd never encountered so exquisite a creature, one who could put him in such a sorry state of unrest. So engrossed was he in the vision of her gently swaying hips climbing the stairs to the second floor, that Sim had completely forgotten about his father's secret meeting later that evening.

  The dinner period was beginning to wind down, and the tavern was barely half full when the two women came down to the common room and sat at a corner table which Sim had carefully prepared himself. He had spoken earlier with Sevin about their unusual guests, as women of noble stature seldom came to stay at the inn, and Sevin agreed that they should take special care to attend to any needs the two ladies might have. While Sim was observing their arrival with an air of apprehension, Sevin, Sim guessed, was seeing only the size of their coin pouches.

  They ate their meals in silence; the tall one vigilantly kept watch over the common room as she methodically worked on her plate of ham. The blond followed Sim's every move around the tavern, studying him as though he was an equation she couldn't solve. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end every time he looked up and saw that her eyes were still upon him. Between the lovely noblewoman in the tavern and Maehril staring at him from the kitchen, it was all he could do not to flee from the inn screaming with insanity. He had never understood women, nor had he wanted to.

  "Oh boy!" the tall one shouted out suddenly, nearly causing Sim to drop a handful of dishes he'd been carrying to the kitchen. When he regained his balance, he set his load on a nearby table, and slowly wiped his hands on his stained apron. Reluctantly, he walked toward their table hoping this would be a quick and less awkward encounter.

  "My name is Sim, not boy," he grumbled irritably, but more because of his own strange anxiety around the two women than because of her patronizing attitude. "What can I do for you, my Lady?"

  "Lady Relador would like a word with you," she spat, gesturing for him to sit, "I suggest you address her in a manner befitting a woman of her station."

  Sim looked uncomfortably down at Lady Relador, who once again had that mysterious half smile across her rosy lips. He looked back toward the bar, fearful that if Sevin saw him sitting down he would catch a smack to the back of the head. Sevin was leaning on the bar watching the confrontation with a look of amusement and simply nodded his approval for Sim to obey the wishes of their strange guests. Trying to find the courage to look Lady Relador in the eyes without acting like a complete fool, Sim slowly pulled out the chair and sat down.

  "There's no need to worry here Sim, I promise you. I am completely harmless." Her voice resonated in an almost musical way, adding to Sim's already burgeoning infatuation. He looked deeply into her eyes, and all of his senses seemed to slip away. "My name as you now know is Lady Enaya Relador. This is my guard and companion, Givara. Please forgive her rather tempestuous attitude. I'm afraid she is sometimes overly protective of my well being, and inns have a way of bringing out the worst in their patrons."

  "You mean because of the ale," Sim nervously shouted, barely realizing how loudly he'd spoken, then wanting to kick himself for saying something so foolish.

  "Uh, yes, because of the ale." She was looking at him as though she believed he was a fool. "Sim, Givara and I are adventurers of sorts. We've been traveling the world for some time now, looking for something that was lost to us many years ago. This is our first time in your fair village, and the sailor who brought us into port, suggested we seek out this very inn. He seemed to think we might find something interesting while we were here. Givara believes I'm wasting my time with you, but I believe you may be able to help us. Will you help us Sim?"

  Although she wasn't making any sense at all to him, Sim was hopelessly lost in her vibrant eyes and gentle voice. "I'm not sure what I'll be able to help you with, but I'm happy to help you in any way that I can."

  "That's wonderful, Sim," she said, smiling for the first time, and giving a Givara a strange sideways glance. "I'd like to ask you a few questions if I may?"

  Sim just nodded.

  "What is your full name?" she asked.

  It seemed harmless enough. "My name is Siminus Kelmor."

  "How long have you been working at this inn, Siminus?"

  "Well, I've been here all my life. This is my home." He wasn't sure what was going on or how these simple questions were going to help her.

  "Are you sure about that Siminus?" she asked with an expression of confusion slowly drawing across her face.

  "Of course. Look, that's my father Sevin behind the bar. You can ask him if you like," Sim answered.

  Astonishment was the only way Sim could describe the look that came across Lady Relador's face as she looked from Sevin to Sim. She seemed to think for a few moments as though some great mystery had just been presented to her. For the first time since he had sat down, Sim looked at Givara and noticed that the scowl which had seemed to perpetually adorn her slender face, had been replaced by a small but unmistakable smile. She was staring at Sim now, as though he were some treasure, and he suddenly realized that he was sweating.

  "You mean to tell me that the barkeep is your father?" Lady Relador said, never taking her eyes from Sevin.

  Sim glanced over his shoulder in confusion. He saw that Sevin was talking to a farmer at the bar, but glancing suspiciously every few moments at his table. He was sure that Sevin couldn't hear their conversation, but he guessed that Lady Relador's staring was making him very uncomfortable. "Lady Relador, I'm not quite sure what you're getting at here, but I swear to you that man is my father."

  The words seemed to weigh heavily on Enaya's mind and she sat silently with a deep furrow across her brow, for several moments. Givara continued to look at Sim with that same curious smile. Sim slowly began to notice that the nerves he'd been feeling in Enaya's presence were beginning to fade as curiosity took their place. The day had been so strange thus far and he soon understood that this unusual conversation was to be another layer on the cake.

  "Was there anything else you needed, my Lady?" he asked, starting to rise from his seat. Enaya caught him by the arm and gestured for him to sit back down. She looked deeply into his eyes searching for something she couldn't find.

  "I'm sorry Siminus," she said at last. "I can't imagine what you must think of me right now. It's just that you bear a remarkable resemblance to someone I know. It's startling really. Your father, Sevin is it? He looks to be of Massoniel descent. That race has very distinctive features, qualities that are hard to overlook. You Sim, don't seem to possess any of those features. That is why I was confused."

  "I'm afraid I don't know anything about these Massoniel you speak of. My
father was born and raised here in Dell." Sim was actually lying to Enaya about the question of his father's descent. Some months back a drifter had come to the inn, a man of considerable wealth and a thirst for gambling. He'd tried all night to find a few takers for a high stakes game of cards but in Dell any games of wager are typically done with nothing more than pocket change. When he had finally given up on assembling a game, he sat at the bar and tried to engage Sevin in a conversation. Sim could clearly remember the stranger mentioning that Sevin looked like a Massoniel, and that Sevin had been irritated by the question. The next morning the drifter was gone before Sim woke up. He had thought it strange at the time but passed it off. Now the memory of that night was playing vividly on his mind.

  "There seems to be quite a bustle downtown, Siminus. What is this Othoran Festival all about?" Sim wasn't sure, but he sensed that she was stalling.

  "Othoran wheat is the lifeblood of our economy. Caramour is the only land in all the world where it can flourish and mature. We have a festival every year to commemorate the harvest. It’s a celebration for all of the hard work and dedication it takes to grow the othoran. And of course, the celebration is on the same week that merchants come to port for the yearly trade." Enaya wasn't listening to a word he was saying. Her eyes constantly wandered back to the bar and Sevin.

  "Have you ever been off of this island, Siminus?” Enaya asked very suddenly, holding his eyes firmly in her gaze.

  "No, Lady Relador, I haven't," he replied dejectedly.

  Enaya leaned in close to him, her lips nearly touching his ear, her hand holding his arm in her delicate grip. "There are sinister events afoot in the world, Siminus. Do you know of this?" Sim just nodded ignorantly. "I'm afraid few in these parts are aware of the horrors indigenous to people of other lands. The world is not nearly as large as you may believe Siminus. Eventually all of us will be responsible for standing up to the tyranny that plagues our time."

  Once again Sim wasn't sure what she was referring to but he could feel a sense of excitement surging through him. "My Lady, are you referring to a man named Desirmor?" He could feel her grip on his arm tighten at the mention of the name.

  "What do you know about Desirmor, Siminus?" she whispered as Givara surveyed the room looking for eavesdroppers.

  "I really don't know much of anything," he answered, "it was only earlier today that I heard the name for the first time. Before that I'd…."

  Before he could finish, the booming voice of Sarimus called out from the entrance to the common room. "Sevin, my faithful innkeeper, too long it’s been since last our paths crossed." Sim swung around with a leap of excitement upon seeing his father's old friend stride into the room a few steps ahead of Farrus. Sarimus was a tall muscular man with thick graying hair that fell long and unkempt about his weather worn face, tickling his broad shoulders. He still had the same perpetual five o'clock shadow that Sim could recall scratching his hands against as a child, and his dark green eyes belied a wisdom gathered from years of travel. He strode across the common room with the grace of a nobleman, a smile beaming across his face at the sight of his old friend. "A tankard of ale, noble innkeeper," he roared as he approached the bar, "and a pint for my shadow, Master Farrus, whom I daresay is still on duty and therefore, must keep his wits about him."

  "Ah Sarimus, it’s been too long," Sevin exclaimed, extending a hand shake across the bar. Turning to the kitchen he called out, "Bella, in case your hearing has failed you, our old friend Sarimus has arrived, silent as always. A plate of your finest fare for this sea-weary old dullard."

  Sarimus laughed loudly at the jest, his voice a deep baritone filling the entire room with its infectious mirth. "And where is the boy, Sevin? Where is Sim?" Sevin pointed in Sim's direction and Sarimus turned his infectious smile to the table where Sim sat with Enaya and Givara. Sim was so caught up in the spectacle of Sarimus' arrival that he'd barely noticed the vise like grip that Enaya now held on his arm. Ever since the old sailor had arrived, she had been training her mysterious gaze back and forth between Sarimus and Sim.

  "My Lady," Sarimus offered, bowing his head slightly to acknowledge her station. "I see you've met the finest lad in all of Caramour. Did you find what you were searching for?"

  Enaya looked once again at both men before answering with that unnerving half smile, "Perhaps I have fair merchant." She motioned to Givara and the two women rose to their feet in unison. "I fear it's time for me to retire this evening." Turning her attention to Sim she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Until we meet again, boy." Then she gracefully walked across the common room, closely followed by Givara, and left the men alone to contemplate her mysterious behavior.

  The tavern was silent for a few moments in the wake of Enaya's departure. Sim couldn't help noticing a strangely conflicted expression on Sarimus' wind-beaten face. Just as the lingering silence began to become uncomfortable, Bella emerged from the kitchen followed meekly by Maehril. Roughly dropping a plate heaping with meat, cheese and bread on the bar in front of Sarimus, she looked him up and down with a scolding eye. "I see you're still a codgy, good-for-nothing old sea dog, who'd rather drown himself in spirits than give an old friend a hug."

  Sarimus aimed a quick wink at Sevin before wrapping his arms around Bella, lifting her right off the floor and swinging her around one time, finishing with a sloppy kiss on the cheek as he gently let her down. "I'd have grabbed you sooner, you saucy wench, but I thought the rendezvous was to be later tonight in the stable."

  Bella lashed out with a well aimed slap on the chest. "How dare you!" she shouted with blushing cheeks. She smoothed out her apron and hair, and then shoved a crooked finger in his face. "You foul, disreputable old cur. I've a mind to go fetch my soup ladle and give you a proper thrashing. No less than you deserve. Scoundrel!" With that she marched off to the kitchen, but Sim could see her smiling the whole way.

  It took a moment for the laughter to die down, then Sarimus turned a soft gaze on Maehril who had continued to stand quietly, staring at Sarimus with a wide eyed look. Sim could only guess, but he was certain Maehril had been no more than six or seven when last Sarimus had come to visit. He couldn't imagine that Maehril might remember Sarimus after all this time, and was even more surprised when Sarimus took her into his arms with a tight embrace as though she were a long lost daughter returned to him after years of searching. Maehril returned the hug with equal ardor, her eyes closed, and a tear slowly sliding down one cheek. At last Sarimus pulled back and took her face in his hands, tenderly wiping the tear away with one swipe of his thumb. "How you've grown, my dear girl," he said choking back his emotion. "What a beautiful young woman you've become." Maehril smiled and began to weep openly, though the tears were joyful. "We've much to talk about, you and I, don't we?"

  Maehril nodded, and slowly pulled away. Suddenly acting like the silly girl Sim had always known her to be, she turned and gleefully skipped off to the kitchen in search of Bella. Looking once again at Sim, Sarimus wiped at his moist eyes. "You've raised them well Sevin," he said. Then after a long pause. "It's been far too long."

  With an effort to break the emotion of the moment, Sarimus reached for his tankard and emptied it with a few hearty gulps. "A fine draught," he shouted, slapping his hand on the bar, and shoving his empty tankard at Sevin. "The brew at sea hasn't nearly the bite as the drink here at the Kelmor Inn." He reached for the plate Bella had brought out for him. "And now to see if the mistress still has her touch."

  Sarimus began to devour his dinner, eating like a man who'd been starved for days. Every now and then he'd pause to wash it down with a heavy pull from his tankard. Sevin and Farrus watched him with amusement until he leaned back from his plate, and rubbed at his belly. "Finest meal I've had in about ten years," he said, breathlessly. "Would you be interested, fine innkeeper, in letting Bella come work for me as cook on my ship? I would pay you handsomely."

  "The wife is not for sale, Sarimus." Sevin smiled, and rubbed his own round belly. "Without
her around, I'm afraid I'd be as thin as Sim."

  "Healthy and fit, like the boy here, eh?" Sarimus said motioning for Sim to come and stand beside him. "Well we can't have that now, can we? Sim, my boy, how you've grown since last I came around."

  "Why has it been so long since your last visit?" Sim suddenly chose to ask him.

  Sarimus exchanged a guarded look with Sevin and Farrus. Sim saw Sevin motion to the doors and nod at Farrus. "Why don't you head on up to bed, Sim?" Sarimus said, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. "We can talk later. I'm sure Sevin won't mind finishing up for you tonight."

  "Run along, Sim," Sevin grunted. "Sarimus and I need to speak alone."

  Sim didn't hesitate. Sure he was upset that after an eight year absence he wasn't being given a chance to see Sarimus. There was so much he wanted to know, and in Sarimus, he was certain there would be answers. Still, when he was relieved of his duties, Sim said his goodnights and headed off down the hall towards his bedroom. He had been waiting all day for this moment to come, and at last it was time.

  Sim slowed up as he approached the linen closet, reaching for the doorknob with a sweaty hand. He was just about to open the door when he noticed Farrus standing, arms folded across his chest, at the end of the hall, presumably standing guard for prying ears. As Farrus' steely gray eyes accusingly bore down on him, Sim froze unsure of what to do next. Thinking quickly, he reached into the closet and pulled out a neatly folded white linen bed sheet. He waved another goodnight to Farrus, then continued on his way down the hall, discouraged but not quite ready to give up. He made a right turn at the end of that hallway, and waited with his back against the wall. Perhaps, if Farrus would give up his watch and return to the common room, he could sneak back down to the linen closet. After waiting for about a minute to pass, Sim peered around the corner only to see Farrus still standing guard.