Innkeeper's Assistant

by Alex Quill

  “You are refugees, yes dear?” she said, without ever peeling her eyes from her work.

  “Yes, from Tolren,” said Synago.

  “Tolren, hmm? I’ve been there. Nice place, but strange people. So tall and so blonde.” Synago had nothing to say to this, so there was an awkward pause. Yolanda barreled right through it and spoke first again, this time serious.

  “I can assume it was the Wraithen that have drove you from your home?”

  Synago nodded. Instead of saying anything, she let Yolanda speak some more.

  “What did you do before this, in Tolren? You’ve worked at an inn before, yes dear? You seem helpful enough. More so than the other useless lumps they sent me.”

  Synago screwed her mouth shut into a tight frown and shook her head. No, she’d never worked at an inn before. Gods damn it, would she really be discovered and kicked out this early?

  “Speak up girl,” barked Yolanda. Synago forced some words out in an attempt to please her new boss.

  “I was a Devologist. I was looking for a cure for Devah’s plague at Tolren’s research University. I’ve never worked at an inn before and my sister, well she’s…” Synago trailed off and they both looked at Mellie. She had one of the towels Synago had handed her over her head and was singing a song about pirates Synago taught her years ago. Synago looked back at Yolanda, and Yolanda at her. Yolanda’s face was softened somewhat.

  “A devologist. And you take care of your sister, too?” she said, her eyes still resting on Mellie. Synago nodded. Caring for her sister was no easy task, but she’d managed it all throughout her schooling. It helped that Mellie was mentally around five years old, so she could mostly entertain herself quietly wherever they went, and the small University graciously agreed to pay while she studied there, as if she had a child.

  Synago watched Yolanda tear her eyes away from Mellie’s antics to look Synago straight in the eye instead.

  “Well, we need all the help we can get. And you seem more competent than half the others they’ve sent me. I’m sure we can find something for you and your sister to do. I’ll take you on as my assistants. Come on.”

  Yolanda stepped down the miniature staircase and walked over to the doorway. Roland, who had been listening to their conversation in the background, stepped up and took the ladle from Synago. Yolanda walked right past Mellie and slid the door open. “Come, come,” she said, “I haven’t got all day for this, my dears.”

  Synago walked over and removed the towel from Mellie’s face. Mellie smiled at her and Synago took her hand.

  They followed Yolanda down the hallway and she motioned at each door as they passed, telling them what the purpose of each was. “This is a party room here. For large parties of people who want to have a room to themselves for dining. This is a small kitchen room, with a place for a fire to keep the food warm for the big parties in that other room,” she said. She went on to explain where everything was and Synago made special note of it all until it felt like her brain was full and could spill over at any moment. She mentally thanked herself for the long days of study at the University, which made memorizing the layout and purpose of the rooms easier.

  Finally they arrived at what Yolanda told them was a supply room. She stopped them and went inside. She came out carrying a large bundle of clothes, rags, and glass bottles filled with liquid. She handed them to Synago and Mellie each and then stood back with her hands on her hips and a scrunched up expression.

  After a few moments of thought she said, “Yes, I think that’s everything you’ll need. Uniforms, soaps, rags. Come back to this closet if you need anything, yes?” she said. Synago nodded and swiped the glass bottles from Mellie, who was holding them up to the light and shaking them.

  “Good,” said Yolanda, and she lead them towards a staircase. The staircase wound up several stories and by the time they reached the top Synago was out of breath. At the very top of the staircase was a big hallway with doors on either side, and a dead end. Yolanda took them to the second to last door.

  “This is your room. It’s plain, but it has everything you need. I will leave you here and tomorrow morning at sun’s rise I will see you for training. Is there anything else we need to take care of before that?” she said, whilst rapping her knuckles on the wooden frame of the sliding paper door to their room. Synago thought for a moment, and then realized their horse was still tied outside in the pouring rain.

  “We have a draft horse with saddle bags tied at the front of the inn. He’ll need to be stabled,” said Synago. Yolanda quirked one of her eyebrows and spoke to Synago through a smirk.

  “Oh, you own your own horse, dear? Do University jobs pay that well?”

  Synago stood stunned for a moment. She didn’t think anyone would ask about her stolen horse. She realized now how odd she must have looked to people, riding in on a beautiful draft horse but clearly not rich enough to own one. When she didn’t say anything to Yolanda’s comment, Yolanda winked at her.

  “Quite all right, dear. We have to do what we have to do to survive out here. I know you’re not some no-life thief. I’ll have one of my stable boys take care of your horse. Anything else?”

  Synago’s shoulders slumped with relief and she laughed.

  “Nothing else I can think of. Thank you,” she said.

  Yolanda smiled. “Good to see you lighten up, kid. See you tomorrow morning. In uniform, please. Bright and early!”

  She left Synago and Mellie to their own devices. Synago slid open the door to their new room, not feeling even the least bit prepared for whatever life might throw them next.

  She was damp, half starved, and hadn’t had a lick of sleep for the past 48 hours. It was finally time to rest, and gather her bearings. Her meeting with Yolanda had gone well. She seemed to have a connection with the old woman. But she didn’t have much time to mull this over. She settled Mellie down for a nap in one of the two small cots at the sides of the small, plain room. Then, she laid down for a nap of her own.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Party

  THE FIRST TWO months assisting at the inn were spent training. Synago was assigned things like cleaning dishes, washing windows, or making beds and Mellie followed her around “helping”.

  Yolanda seemed to understand that Mellie’s “help” was more of a limit and never assigned them anything they couldn’t handle together. Her son Roland explained how to do everything properly. The dishes, pots, and pans they washed must be put away exactly so and the towels had to be folded just right or else they’d start all over again. It was plain to Synago after just a few days of this why the other assistants failed. Synago did her best to work hard, but was nonetheless thrown in a constant state of exhaustion.

  The morning of the first day out of training seemed like a normal one at first. They woke just before dawn and got dressed, brushed their teeth, and then went to the common area downstairs where Yolanda held her morning gathering with the rest of the inn’s staff. The room was full of other yawning assistants, chefs, and maids by the time Synago and Mellie took their seat amongst the others.

  Yolanda climbed on top of a tall stool and cleared her throat. The room quieted, and then she spoke in her half-bark of a voice.

  “As most of you know, today is a Wraithen holiday. We have a large amount of parties coming in to celebrate. As this is the neutral zone, you’re all expected to behave politely regardless of their… Affiliations. I know many of you have lost your homes to these people.”

  Yolanda’s eyes lingered on Synago and Mellie, and Synago sunk down in her seat while she spoke, “But we must carry on business as usual.”

  Synago pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest. A Wraithen holiday? She was expected to serve the very men who destroyed her home? Her eyes flicked to Mellie, who was staring at a spider crawling across the ceiling. Gradually, her anger dissipated and she returned her attention to Yolanda, who was giving out assignments.

  “Crew one, party A. Crew two, dishes. Cre
w three, kitchen cleanup,” she said. She listed off many teams before she reached Synago and Mellie. Each crew got up to leave as soon as their jobs were given, so it was only Synago, Mellie, and Yolanda left in the common area.

  “At last, crew thirty. Hello dears. There is special party for you to work today,” she said. Synago watched Yolanda sit down on her tall stool, and their eyes met in the middle when she next addressed them.

  “It won’t be easy like the other jobs I’ve given you. These men are rude. Just take them to the room, serve the food, and clean up after. Just like we taught you.”

  Synago’s stomach turned. She had the distinct feeling that this was some sort of test from Yolanda. That these men were a little more than rude. But there was nothing she could do about that, so she just nodded at Yolanda to indicate she understood.

  “Good, I have much work to do. It is our busiest day of the year. Your party will be here in an hour. Clean up this room until then. Good luck!”

  Yolanda left, as always, without waiting to say goodbye.

  Synago reached deep into the pockets of her work apron and felt for the Devah’s egg, which she always kept with her. She fiddled with it for a moment out of nervous habit, then grabbed a rag from her other pocket and turned to Mellie. She was still watching the spider crawl across the ceiling. She decided to leave her in her chair and get to cleaning up by herself.

  By the time the hour was up, she’d dusted the whole room. She put her hands on her hips and stared at the door to the inn, which was adjacent to the common area she was cleaning. People had been filtering in and out all morning now. Every time the door opened her hopes at it being her party were dashed with a subtle nod of the head from Roland.

  The door to the inn opened, and again Synago peered at the visitors, wondering if it was their “special” party. Instead, it was that old woman she’d seen a week back when they first arrived at the inn.

  She leaned over the reception desk to speak to Roland. The woman turned to leave and their eyes met once more. Synago opened her mouth to say something, but the woman was already heading out the door, and in moments she was gone. Synago scratched her head. Who was that woman, and what did she want with Roland?

  Soon after, a group of four men entered the inn. They were tall, all of them with black hair and skin that was tanned from long days in the sun. Their clothes were plain. Their shirts were of cotton cloth and they had patches on the elbows, sewn there by weary wives. On their legs were brown canvas cloth pants that frayed where they met the floor. Their shoes had soles so worn that they likely had holes in them. They looked the part of laborers, with dirt under their nails and on their faces. The largest man, a great hulking mass of muscle with spotted scar tissue over his right eye, spoke in a rumbling voice to Roland.

  “We’re here for my reservation,” he said, and then squinted, “Hey, aren’t you the Yuka I saw here last year?” he said. Synago saw Roland nod. He fidgeted with the papers on the reception desk and cleared his throat before speaking in a higher-than-usual squeaky voice.

  “Yes. Same room as last year, correct sir?” he said. He motioned for Mellie and Synago to come forward, so Synago grabbed Mellie’s hand and they walked to the reception desk. The large man turned to them. A sour look came over his face.

  “Well what have we here. You two aren’t from Tolren, are you? Blond hair, gray eyes and all that,” he said. Synago swallowed hard and looked the man up and down. Clearly, he didn’t like the look of them. He was coming here to celebrate a Wraithen holiday, for High Mother’s sake!

  One of the others, the smallest man of the four, elbowed him and a strained look passed between them.

  “Come on now, be nice to the ladies would you Rob?” said the small man in a smooth, even voice.

  “I was just asking,” grumbled Rob.

  Synago decided to use the accompanying awkward silence to change the subject.

  “I’ll show you gentlemen to your room if you’ll follow me,” she said. The distraction seemed the work and the men eased. Roland handed Synago a slip of parchment with the men’s room information on it, just as he’d shown her in training. She saw that they were eating in one of the small feast rooms. Synago smiled at the men and turned to lead them away to the room.

  As they were walking a gleam of something from Rob’s beefy hand caught Synago’s attention. He was wearing a ring with the Wraithen symbol on it. Synago’s mouth dried. Could these men hurt them here, even though they were in the neutral zone? Is that why he’d seemed so threatening when he figured they were from Tolren? She cursed herself for not seeing Yolanda’s implication sooner.

  She settled the men in the room. It was one of the largest rooms in the inn, suitable for many more men than just the four in the party. In the center of the room was a vast table with benches on either side rather than chairs. The men sat on the left side of the table, with Rob taking the large and only real chair at the head. He sighed as he leaned back into the velvet cushions on it.

  When all of them were comfortable, Synago whispered to Mellie.

  “Go wait outside. I’ll do this all myself today, okay?”

  Mellie looked at her with wide eyes, then nodded her head slowly, and left. They’d been in enough sticky situations that Synago knew Mellie would take her tone of voice as dead serious.

  Synago went to the corner where a large jug of water and many goblets were waiting for her. She passed them around and then poured water for each man. Rob’s eyes screwed into her as she worked, never leaving her for a moment. His stare sent chills down her spine. As soon as she finished pouring their water she left the room at a cautious, slow pace. She didn’t want them to know that she was scared.

  Outside in the hallway she leaned against the sliding door, closed her eyes, and sighed. She willed her heart to stop beating so fast with a few deep breaths.

  “Syn, are you okay?” said Mellie, patting Synago on the shoulder. Synago smiled at her.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, and then hugged Mellie. Mellie smiled, satisfied, and then sat down and began to play with one of the rags in her apron. Synago watched her twist and untwist the cloth, until a man with a rolling cart full of food cleared his throat to grab her attention.

  “You’re the ones helping those Wraithen guys, right?” he said.

  “Yes,” said Synago.

  “Good luck,” said the man. He left them with the cart, whistling as he went. Good luck? Were these guys really that bad? As if to answer her question, Rob shouted from inside the room at them.

  “Oy! You girls! Where’s our food?”

  Synago slid open the door and pushed the cart inside. “Stay here, okay?” she whispered to Mellie, who nodded at her and went back to playing with her rag. She closed the door behind her and then began to serve plates of food to the men waiting for her at the table. As soon as she set the plates down, the men began to eat ravenously, none of them waiting for the others to be served first.

  Just as Synago was about to slide open the door and leave again she heard a loud crash behind her. She turned and saw that Rob had smashed his plate on the floor. Shards of ceramic were all over the wood, each piece covered in shining fat from the meat he’d gobbled from on top it. He grinned at her from his place in the velvet chair.

  “Better clean that up, girl,” he said.

  Synago pursed her lips into a thin line, but held her tongue. She wanted to scream at him, but wanted to keep Mellie safe more than that. And if she blew up he’d certainly threaten them both. So she grabbed a small broom and pan from the cart and swept up the plate, Rob watching her all the while.

  The smaller man elbowed Rob again and Rob shrugged him off.

  “Come on, Rob. You’re givin’ the poor thing such a hard time,” he said.

  Rob looked at the smaller man as if he’d grown two heads.