by Dawn Cook
“Lacy,” Strell said, pulling Alissa stumbling forward as if a shield. “This is Alissa.” He ran a hand over his chin, and a puff of what Alissa thought was disappointment escaped the woman. “She’s traveling with me, as are Connen-Neute and— ah—his guide, Lodesh.”
“Guide?” Connen-Neute muttered into Alissa’s thoughts, and she frowned, not liking Strell’s introduction. A traveling companion? Was that what she was?
“Good tide,” Lacy murmured to Alissa. Her gaze ran from Talon on her shoulder to the mud on her shoes peeping out from under her damp hem. Something in her expression carried a mocking question, and Alissa suddenly realized she was far out of her element, not knowing the first thing about the devious subtleties of society.
“Steady wind,” Alissa said tightly, remembering the proper response Strell had told her this morning. Her jaw clenched as she refused to let this tart of a woman make her feel lacking.
Lacy turned to the two men. She smiled, her teeth standing out against her dark skin. “May the Hounds keep from your heels,” she said formally to Lodesh and Connen-Neute, her eyes shifting from Connen-Neute’s bandages to Lodesh’s yellow hair.
Lodesh beamed, stepping forward to take her hand. “And the Navigator’s Wolves from your dock, mistress ship-holder,” he said, touching the top of her fingers to his chin.
Alissa’s mood darkened further. Lodesh, too? she thought.
Strell started. “Ship? How would you know—”
Releasing Lacy’s hand, Lodesh stepped back and made a grand flourish. “By the music of her steps,” he said. “Such a melody can only mean she has a ship.”
Not liking Lacy at all, Alissa retreated to take Connen-Neute’s elbow. If Strell and Lodesh wanted to make fools of themselves, that was fine with her. This woman with her bells and child was no threat. Clearly distressed by her withdrawal, Strell fidgeted. Lacy, though, was beaming, probably thinking she had scored points in whatever game she was playing.
“Ma’hr Lodesh is right,” she said, giving her foot a shake under her skirt. Alissa smugly thought the sound wasn’t nearly as nice as her string of bells. “I have a boat,” Lacy said. “A boat and a husband to pilot it. She’s a small vessel, but large enough to make it up-coast in winter, if need be.” Lacy leaned closer, her eyes going sad. “It’s what I thought I wanted, but if the truth be told, I miss the comfort of my husband much of the time.”
Strell’s face went slack in alarm, and he took a step back. “It doesn’t look as if you’re ailing too badly, Lacy,” he said, glancing at her daughter. Then he hesitated, looking closer at the child. Seeing his brow furrowed, Lacy subtly shook her head. Strell took a relieved breath, and Alissa’s eyes widened at the unspoken question. Suddenly Lacy’s game had an entirely new significance.
“You’re hurting me,” Connen-Neute said into her thoughts, and Alissa forced her grip on his arm to ease.
The child on Lacy’s hip began to fuss, and the woman jiggled her. “I married the spring after you left. This is little Mantia, born the next fall. Had I known you were staying—”
“I did leave,” Strell protested. “I never intended to come back.”
“You named your daughter after a fish?” Alissa asked.
Lacy smiled, and Alissa forced her breath to stay even. “A very fierce devilfish,” the tiny woman said proudly. “Just like she is going to be. She’s a terror on the docks already. Her singing reaches high street when she’s hungry.” Another jump and jiggle, and Lacy beamed from her child to Strell. “I have accounts to settle yet today, but I can send Tia to get your room ready. Your friends are welcome, too, of course.”
Strell rubbed his chin as his smile went stiff. “Well, ah, we were planning on staying at a public house. It’s easier to earn a coin there.”
Real disappointment dimmed Lacy’s eagerness. “Oh. I understand. Where are you staying? I’ll stop in and buy a tune from you.” Her smile turned devious, and Alissa felt a wash of ire. “You know the one I want, Strell.”
Strell flicked a glance at Alissa, his smile going stilted at the pointed look she knew she wore. “We, uh, haven’t decided. Has Kole fixed his ceiling?”
Lacy nodded, and Connen-Neute pried Alissa’s fingers from around his arm. “I happen to know he doesn’t have anyone playing there, either,” the woman added, clearly aware Alissa was upset. “And even if he did, Kole would throw them out when he finds you’re back.”
Strell bobbed his head once. “Then that’s where we’ll be.”
Alissa stiffened as Lacy ran a finger over his beard again to brush the rain from it. “I wish it was for me,” she said. She reached to give him another embrace, and Strell took a step back. Lacy bit her lip in the awkward silence, and her daughter began to cry from the brightening sun. “Good fortune, then, Strell,” she said, forcing a smile as she touched his arm.
“Good fortune, Lacy. And I’m happy for you.”
Alissa grew smug. Gathering her skirt up, Lacy hitched her child up higher and walked away. An adolescent girl Alissa hadn’t even noticed before trailed behind them with a large, leather-bound book. Almost cowering, she moved silently with nothing on her ankle but a simple band. Suddenly conscious of her bedecked ankle, Alissa frowned at the disparity. The girl clearly had no status, walking with the stance of a beggar.
Strell cleared his throat nervously, and as one, Lodesh and Alissa turned to face him. The crowd moved around them like water past a rock.
“Make up your room?” Lodesh drawled, reminding Alissa why she was angry. “A hole in a tavern’s ceiling? I don’t think we knew our good minstrel until just this moment, Alissa.”
His face grew closed as Strell looked everywhere but at her. “It was winter. I was icebound. Her father enjoyed long desert ballads. I was a guest until the weather broke, that’s all. And the hole in the ceiling wasn’t my fault. Let’s find a clothier on the way to the Three Crows.” He reached for her arm, and she pulled away. She didn’t know what she was feeling right now, but it wasn’t pleasant.
Strell hesitated, then drew himself straight. “I don’t need to explain myself,” he said, his brown eyes taking on a glint of anger and worry. “Look. Kole’s tavern is up there on the right. You can see it from here. I’m going over there.” He pointed. “I need to get a hat. I’ll meet you at the Three Crows, all right?”
“What’s wrong with the hat I gave you?” she said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.
He paused as if to say something, then, swallowing whatever it was, he strode away. His back was hunched, and his steps were sharp. The boy with the cart behind them hesitated until Lodesh gestured he stay with them. Alissa’s mood went more sour still. Strell was going in the same direction that Lacy and her little drudge had gone. And there was nothing wrong with his hat. “Make up his room,” she muttered, knowing she had no reason to be jealous of something that had happened before she met Strell. That she was made her angry with herself.
Lodesh took her arm, and they continued to the wide porch of the tavern. His steps were noticeably lighter, and he bobbed his head at everyone who met his gaze. Connen-Neute sighed, stoically making his way behind them without help.
They slowed as they approached the tidy inn. Its roof was of red tiles, and it had brightly painted shutters to keep out the winter’s cold. A preadolescent boy was sweeping the damp off the raised porch. At the sound of Alissa’s anklet bells, he hustled over and pulled a rag from his belt. “Let me clean the bottom of your shoes, Ma’hr,” he said, kneeling before her.
Alissa stopped short, never having had that particular title of respect aimed at her before. “Uh,” she stammered, glancing uneasily at Connen-Neute and Lodesh.
Lodesh grinned. “What’s the matter, Alissa?”
“He wants to clean my shoes,” she said, giving him a helpless look.
“Well, they’re muddy, and that’s his job. If you walk in like that, he’ll get his ears boxed.” He eyed the boy. “Isn’t that right?” he asked, and the boy
nodded emphatically.
She lifted her skirt a touch higher and peered at her shoes. “They’re all right,” she said, and the boy looked scared.
“Let the boy clean your shoes,” Connen-Neute asserted. “I want to sit down.”
“Let him clean your shoes,” Lodesh whispered, and she shivered at the sensation of his breath on her neck. “It comes with the bells. How many do you have down there, anyway? It sounds like more than three. Did Talo-Toecan give you one as well?”
“He gave me three,” she muttered, and he made a small grunt of surprise.
“Six?” he breathed. Instead of answering, she extended first one foot, then the other, balancing with Lodesh’s help as the boy wiped the mud from her soles. Looking relieved, the boy got to his feet and opened the door for them.
“Touch the top of the sill,” Lodesh said as he drew her to a stop before the threshold. “It keeps the bad luck you might bring in from entering.”
“How quaint,” she grumbled, thinking the only bad luck would be if Connen-Neute hit his head on the low lintel. Her fingers brushed the wood as she passed. It was worn and black from use. Talon chittered as they entered, and they hesitated just inside the doorway as their eyes adjusted. It was quiet, with only one man sitting at the tables, hunched around a mug in the corner. He looked up at them before going back to staring at nothing.
A man with badly gnarled hands was knocking a spoon against a pot over the hearth. There was a rag tucked into his belt, and by his gaze, half-wary, half-expectant, she guessed he was the innkeeper. Alissa ran her attention over the ceiling to find one corner by the hearth had the bright finish of boards that had only seen a few winters’ worth of soot. Her brow furrowed, and she wondered if she really wanted to know.
“Afternoon, and good tide,” Lodesh said as Alissa made a show of leading Connen-Neute to a table. Her bells were almost silent as she tried to walk quietly, uncomfortable with the deference the boy outside had shown her. Perhaps she ought to remove one or two bells. She had imagined she would have liked the attention but was now having second thoughts.
“G’d tide,” the man said, eyeing them up and down as she sat beside Connen-Neute. The innkeeper was short and stocky, not even as tall as Alissa. His hands looked twice as old as the rest of him. “You aren’t from around here,” he said shortly. “What do you need? A room? Supper? I can arrange for an introduction to a merchant.”
Lodesh smiled, taking off his cloak and shaking it dramatically to get the last of the rain from it. “We need a room for four, and possibly board.”
“I only see three of ya.”
“My associate is shopping,” Lodesh said dryly. “Apparently, he needs a new hat. Your establishment came highly recommended. I hope you have something.”
Lodesh’s words were well-schooled in comparison to the innkeeper’s, and the man with his earthen mug in the corner began to take notice. Wiping his hands on his rag, the innkeeper slipped behind the end of the counter to become taller. Alissa guessed the floor was raised there. “How long, then?” he asked, all business.
“A few days, if all goes well. Can we pay by the day?”
Again he nodded. “It will cost you more.”
“Fair enough,” Lodesh said. “Room and board for four.” He pulled a small sack out from his belt and shuffled through it.
“I’ll be back,” Alissa whispered to Connen-Neute as she rose. She hadn’t had much opportunity to see coinage before, all her dealings having been by barter. Careful to keep her movements slow, she made the trip with barely a chime. Lodesh smiled briefly as she came even with him. Alissa peered over his shoulder, watching him put a few coins on the counter. He somehow knew how much, and she was glad he was here to take care of it.
“That’s two nights,” the man said gruffly. “You can have an upstairs room, but the bird stays outside.”
“Outside!” Alissa cried, her hand going protectively to her shoulder. Sensing Alissa’s alarm, Talon chittered and raised her feathers.
“Or in a cage. I won’t have it loose in my tavern,” the innkeeper said.
The man slumped in the corner was now watching with bloodshot, tired eyes.
Lodesh put another coin on the counter. “Perhaps if we confined the bird to our room—”
The taverner shook his head tightly. “The mess. The flies. No animals in my inn.”
“But Talon is the eyes of the blind man,” Alissa lied.
“Then why is he on your shoulder?” the innkeeper asked.
“Talon is a she, not a he,” Alissa said, stiffening. “And she stays with me.”
The man kept his pointing finger just out of Talon’s reach. “Then ya both stay outside.”
Lodesh shifted uncomfortably. He hesitated when light spread over the floor and Alissa turned at Strell’s familiar footsteps. He still had on his old hat, and Alissa sourly wondered what he had really been doing.
“Have a heart, Kole,” Strell drawled, making his accent unusually thick. “It’s not like you to make a woman sleep on the porch. Besides, the bird belongs to me. Part of the minstrel costume. You won’t begrudge me that, will you?”
The innkeeper started, his black eyes lighting up. “Strell!” he bellowed to shake the dust from the ceiling, and the man in the corner winced. “Strell Hirdune! I thought you’d left.”
Alissa exchanged a weary look with Lodesh as the innkeeper strode to Strell. The boy with the cart was quietly unloading their packs just inside the door with the help of the boy who’d cleaned her shoes.
“You said you were leaving!” the squat innkeeper said as he pounded Strell on the back. “Where’ve you been? Up-coast? There’s been no mention of ya.”
Strell grinned and pushed his old hat back off his forehead. “Here and there. I made it through the mountains all right, but I got sidetracked before reaching home.” Strell held a hand out for Alissa, and she came forward, still miffed. The jingle of her bells was loud, and the innkeeper went red as she came to a chiming halt. “Kole,” Strell said formally, “this is Alissa.”
“Ma’hr,” he said, his eyes dropping to her unseen ankle. “I do apologize. Your steps were so soft before. Of course you may keep your bird loosed. Is there anything I can get you for her? Mice? Snakes? We don’t have any in my inn, but I can find you some.”
Alissa managed a wry smile. The difference wasn’t Strell but the bells on her ankle.
“And that is Connen-Neute, there, and Lodesh,” Strell added as Lodesh cleared his throat.
“Not alone anymore, eh?” Kole bobbed his head. “Good. That’s good.” He eyed Alissa, and she flushed as he glanced at her unseen feet again. “Sit. Sit, sit,” he said, gesturing. “Let me get you something. I have a cask I’ve been waiting to open. Stay here.” He pushed at the air with his palms. “I’ll be right back.”
The squat man hustled to a back room, cheerfully mumbling about a six-bell woman in his inn, and how pleased his wife would be.
Hearing him, Strell turned to her. “Six bells?” he asked her, his long face going dark as he looked at Lodesh.
Connen-Neute put a restraining hand upon Strell’s shoulder. “Talo-Toecan gave them to her,” he said softly, and Strell went easy.
Before they had finished arranging themselves at the table, the innkeeper was back with a cask no bigger than a pumpkin. He tapped it right there at the table, making more of the ordeal than Alissa thought was necessary. Strell closed his eyes in delight as he sampled it.
“Your best yet,” he said, but Connen-Neute coughed violently at the first sip. He set his tall mug aside, making a face as he reluctantly swallowed.
“What’s the matter, Connen-Neute?” Lodesh said merrily, topping off his own mug. “I thought you liked blueberries.”
Alissa reached for her shallow cup, eager to know what it tasted like. “Don’t drink it, Alissa,” Connen-Neute warned in her thoughts, still coughing and rubbing his eyes through his scarf. “It’s fermented. Too much will block your ability to make wa
rds.”
“Lodesh doesn’t seem to care,” she said, eyeing the Keeper as he downed a mug, showing his appreciation with watering eyes and pounding the table once with a closed fist.
“Lodesh can’t fly, either,” Connen-Neute answered dryly.
She pretended to take a sip, nodding at the innkeeper’s expectant expression. It tingled on her lips, and when she licked them, they tasted of blueberries and warmth.
“You can have a room, no charge,” the innkeeper said, topping off Strell’s mug. “But for it, I want you here after sunset.” He settled back and ran a hand over his greasy hair. “And you will take requests this time, desert man.”
Strell nodded. “I can promise one night,” he said, and the innkeeper’s brow bunched.
“Leaving already? Stay. When word gets out you’re back—”
Strell shook his head. “As soon as I find a ship, we’re away.”
The innkeeper’s eyes brightened. “I knew it!” he shouted, making Talon chitter and the man in the corner groan. “I knew the sea called to you. Just sit apace, a week maybe, and I’ll have you your choice of destinations. Though I’ll be sorry to see you ruining your hands at sea.”
Eyes distant, Strell ran his thumb over a rough spot in the mug’s glazing. “I’m not looking to crew,” he said. “Passenger, only. But if it lowers the fare to entertain, I don’t mind.”
“Just passage?” The innkeeper turned devious, his thin lips curling at the corners. “Lacy’s got a boat now. Her husband— sorry, lad, but if you leave ’em, they jump ship—her husband is up-coast getting the first of the leather, but he’ll be back in a week or so, the Navigator willing and the winds stay right. You can room here in the interim.” He glanced behind Strell to Alissa, Lodesh, and Connen-Neute. “All of you. Strell, you can eat what you will, but the rest of you will have to make separate arrangements.”
Alissa blinked. A room and food for Strell’s music? A room worth more money than she had ever seen in exchange for Strell’s promise to lure people in with his music?
Strell took a long drink, setting the mug down with a satisfied, contented sound. “I ran into Lacy outside.” He flicked a glance at Alissa. “We need a bigger boat than what she has. I’m looking to see deep water. I want to see that blue current you all tell me about.”