The Smiling Stallion Inn

by Courtney Bowen

  “I looked at your accounts,” Jawen had said. “There were some gaps between what you earned and what you charged. Not to mention the paintings in your den, which are the originals of the duplicates you sold as originals in Coe Wana. And what about mama’s mirror from Pakka? It should have gone on to Coe Anji with the rest of the merchant train passing through Coe Dobila, but you stole it, along with numerous other pieces around the house. I can’t even fathom how much all of it’s worth.”

  “Be that as it may, you have to figure in the costs of my trips, both ways,” Lapo had said. “My salary doesn’t cover all those costs, not to mention the side trips and transportation partnerships.”

  “How much do they cost?” Jawen asked. “And how much do you earn from them?”

  “Not nearly enough,” Lapo said. “I need to ensure I’ve full coverage with my livelihood if anything goes wrong with one of my trips.”

  “Or if you do anything wrong,” Jawen remarked.

  “Anyway, as for these other pieces of furniture and decorations, well, I paid for these goods, the same as anybody else, even though the price might have been different for me in the end.” He thumped his hand down at this point, startling Jawen and setting her teeth on edge. “I might as well enjoy the fruit of my labor.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Jawen said.

  “The baron knows about it, by the way,” Lapo added. “He understands I have to do this for the sake of our family.”

  “And your friendship with the baron doesn’t factor into it?”

  “He’s my friend, but most of the time, that doesn’t have anything to do with my job. He’s still one of my employers and partners.”

  “And you give him a generous cut once in a while.”

  “I’m the only merchant who will handle Coe Baba’s trade!” Lapo cried. “Without me, there would be no outside trading! None of the other merchants in Coe Anji or Coe Dobila or Coe Wana will even come to Coe Baba! I talk to them, try to arrange some trades, to get some of my partners to invest in Coe Baba, but they think we are too backwards, unprofitable, and dangerous. They don’t think it’s worth their time and effort. But I’m committed to this job and I can be trusted to handle it.”

  “But father, I still don’t see how you can justify out and out thievery,” Jawen said, though in a timid voice as she started to see her argument failing.

  “Look, Jawen, I know you think life should be fair, and that there should be a balance in the world with everyone earning what is fair and reasonable, but that’s not how these things work,” Lapo said. “You have to fight for your share in this life.”

  “I know, Father,” Jawen muttered. She’d been through this type of conversation with him many times. Ever since she was little, she’d been told that she could depend on him to give her everything she’d ever wanted. After a while, his arguments always wore her down until she finally agreed with him. And sometimes it didn’t matter to her what her father did, as long as he didn’t try to interfere in her personal affairs. Even though she didn’t exactly like what he was doing she knew he had his family’s welfare at heart.

  He was ruthless in protecting what belonged to him and what he loved. He was her father, after all, and she loved him. Now, if only he’d look upon Basha with favor…

  Jawen hesitated at the front door, her hand on the knob, conflicted about what to do. Her father had always told his children to never settle for second-best, but to always keep negotiating for the best offers. Though she was old enough now to be serious about finding a potential husband, she knew Basha wouldn’t be a respectable-enough candidate for her father—or for herself. Her circumstances as the merchant’s oldest daughter carried a certain amount of prestige. The townspeople didn’t know the full extent of her father’s indiscretions, and neither did she, but they all saw him as highly respectable.

  If she kept putting Basha off and he got it into his head there wasn’t a thing left for him here—he often told her he didn’t feel as if he belonged here—he could leave Coe Baba for good. He could join the Border Guards and might never come back. There was very little holding him here, aside from his family. And her.

  Jawen heard a sound and turned around to see Annalise standing in the hallway, framed by the tapestries and wallpaper on either side of her as she grasped her dolly. Annalise asked, “What are you doing?” to Jawen.

  “I’m just…go back into the kitchen,” Jawen told her little sister before she opened the front door to Basha. Even knowing who would be there, Jawen’s heart leapt at the sight of him. He looked ridiculous standing there with his pathetic bouquet and holding up one arm up to smell his armpit; obviously, he was very nervous. He reminded her of the little boy she’d made fun of long before she’d ever gotten to know him. And long before she’d ever fallen in love with him. He couldn’t be more different from what her father had planned for her than if he had two heads. Yet, when she looked at him, she didn’t think much about respectability. Or money.

  * * * *

  Basha lowered his arm and stood at the door, staring into her blue eyes. There were some who wouldn’t consider her pretty. Her features weren’t at all delicate; they were hearty and full of class. An old blue cotton dress covered her shapely form. Basha couldn’t help but notice the laugh lines around her mouth and the coy glint in her eyes as he saw her throat move when she gulped.

  She looked past him, apparently checking again for anyone watching them, just as he said, “I’ve come here…” He inhaled, trying to calm himself down, “to ask you…”

  “Are you here to woo me, or have you come to help me feed the pigs?” Jawen asked.

  “I come to you with a yearning heart!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. His heart had been yammering so fast that nothing could touch it, but now it came crashing down.

  “Respect me, and accept me for who I am, and what my feelings are!” he insisted. “At least don’t joke about my love for you,” he said, pulling back his flowers in frustration. “Can’t you ever be serious?”

  He should have known she’d do this. He could almost hear Oaka laughing at him. He’d hoped she’d take him seriously, just this once, especially with the Courtship Ritual taking place tomorrow.

  Jawen, expecting steam to spew from his ears at any moment, tried not to laugh. He reminded her of a frustrated puppy with such short legs, he couldn’t follow his long-legged mother up the front steps. His little nose flared up, and his large brown eyes, usually as intense and somber as a scholar’s, lit up in exasperation. It was priceless.

  It seemed she always ended up teasing him. It was easier, she supposed than trying to acknowledge her own feelings for him.

  There had always been a certain amount of tension between her and Basha, a back-and-forth game of affection and love ever since they were little. She’d not recognized it as such early on, but as they’d grown older, their ritual of fight or flight, chasing each other around and trying to hide their real feelings for one another, developed.

  Jawen didn’t know her little sister stood behind her until Annalise poked her in the ribs. “You know you shouldn’t be seen with—”

  Jawen cut her off. “Be quiet! Go away! This is none of your business.”

  Annalise finally went, but she was bound to blab to their father. Jawen had to get Basha out of here. Jawen was angry at Annalise and angry at Basha too, for putting them both at risk.

  “You shouldn’t have come here. You know I can’t commit to you. Not yet. What more do you want from me?”

  “I want you to say you love me and accept my proposal of marriage for the world to see!”

  Jawen frowned. She knew she couldn’t keep putting him off; eventually he’d give up and she’d lose him to the militia or the Border Guard. “I care for you, Basha; you know that.” She softened. “I just don’t know if or when I can say it in front of anyone, especially my father. You know how he is.” She smiled grimly. “Maybe I can say yes when Mount Doomba turns to ice.”

 
“Jawen, be serious.”

  “I am being serious!” Jawen groaned. “Can’t we wait just a little while longer?” she wheedled. “I haven’t lost you yet, have I, Basha?” She knew she was being ridiculous, but she hoped it would be enough to keep him satisfied until she was ready to get married.

  “Jawen, you haven’t lost me. But I don’t want to wait around forever.” He sighed and added, “I want to move on with you to something better than kissing and cuddling. I want us to get married, and prove to the world that our love is deep enough to survive their worst fears. That’s why I’m asking for your hand in marriage tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow! Basha! We haven’t even gone out on a real date yet!”

  “A date? Jawen, I know we need to spend time together, but you don’t want to be seen with me. How can we date when you’re ashamed of being seen with me?”

  Jawen hesitated as she tried to find the right words. Her mind told her heart to stay calm. She knew he was right. She was ashamed to be seen with him. How could she even think about accepting his proposal of marriage? She couldn’t do this, could she? She’d be leaving her family, maybe even her friends, behind if she went with Basha. She didn’t want to desert them, yet hardly any of them would want to associate with the balnor of a possible murderess.

  But she didn’t want to let Basha go. Her heart ached at the thought she might never get the chance to marry him, but her heartbreak might be even greater in the end if she stayed with him. She didn’t want to lose all of her options in life—a job perhaps, or a marriage better suited to her, yet she didn’t want to live without Basha’s love. “I love you, Basha, but—”

  “Jawen!” The imposing voice came from behind her, in the hallway. “Who in the name of Tau are you talking to out there?”

  Jawen’s eyes grew as large as saucers. “Basha, go…now. Hurry before he sees you.” she whispered with urgency.

  “No. We’re adults now. We should stand our ground and face him like adults, not children sneaking around in the dark.”

  Panicked and unsure of what to do, Jawen stepped back and slammed the door in Basha’s face. Stunned, Basha stared at the closed door until he heard yelling inside the house. Dejected, his shoulders sagging, he turned and began retracing his steps to the road.

  * * * *

  Lapo finally pushed past his protesting daughter and jerked the front door open. “What are you doing here, you nameless little balnor? Don’t you come around here again!”

  Nearing the road, Basha heard Lapo’s cruel comment. He turned and yelled back at Lapo. “I’m not a nameless balnor! My name is Basha, and I want to marry your daughter!” He hesitated then, realizing by the horrified look on Jawen’s face, he’d said far too much.

  “Why, you little snit! You stay away from my daughter, you hear me?” he shouted as he took a few angry steps toward Basha. That was all it took for Basha to turn and run for town.

  Lapo fumed as he stood at the bottom of his front steps, watching the boy flee. “You better run, you malakeling little piece of balnor rubbish!”

  “Father! How can you say such hateful things?” Jawen was angry at Basha for declaring his love for her loudly enough for her father and the entire neighborhood to hear, but she’d defend him to the hilt.

  “What?” Lapo glared at his daughter. “His mother practically dumps him on the front steps of the inn, after she kills a man! The boy is a worthless balnor!”

  “Don’t you dare say that!” Jawen stamped her foot. “You don’t even know Basha. He’s sweet and kind and I…I…” She hesitated, her mouth working uselessly.

  “You what?” Lapo’s raised voice could be heard throughout the house and down the lane as well. “That sniveling balnor will not darken my doorstep. You will not entertain him or his unwanted declarations. I’ll see you married to Baron Augwys’s son first.”

  “But I don’t love Hastin, Father! I want a loving marriage like you and Mother have. Is that so much to ask?”

  Exasperated, Lapo expelled a terse breath. “You will do what is best for you, young lady.”

  “You mean what’s best for you, don’t you, Father?” And with that, Jawen spun around and ran up the stairs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  * * * *

  Lapo didn’t chase after him, but Basha nevertheless raced through the imposing, well-to-do neighborhood. Dogs inside their yards barked at him as he ran past, but he wanted to get away from that awful embarrassing scene as fast as he could. So he ran, even while he knew he should’ve stood up for himself. He should have confronted Lapo face-to-face with his intentions. Now the merchant would think him a coward as well as a balnor with no name. How could he ever face Lapo again?

  He stopped as he realized he’d stepped into sheep balnor. More humiliation. “No one should have to be treated like this,” Basha muttered to himself as he wiped his shoe off in the grass.

  Unbeknownst to him, someone stood in a nearby yard watching Basha, intent on his actions after hearing his declaration of love for Jawen.

  * * * *

  “Honey, who was that at the door?” Mawen asked when Lapo returned to the kitchen.

  “It was no one, Mawen, just the innkeeper’s balnor.”

  “The innkeeper’s…balnor?” Mawen sputtered, throwing down a spoon and turning around from where she stood by the stove to face her husband. “What would that boy want here and where’d Jawen go?” she asked, picking up and passing out the breakfast plates. “She knows breakfast is ready. I swear, that girl is a trial of late…if she…”

  Lapo answered neither of her questions as she prattled on, covering a myriad of topics he barely heard as he groused silently about the balnor’s confession of love for his daughter and her swiftness to stick up for him. Could she be in love with the boy? he asked himself. No, no. He shook his head. Jawen wouldn’t fall for such trash. He could see her merely being nice to the boy and him taking her kindness as affection. She was, after all, a lovely girl with a friendly nature.

  Jawen, downcast eyes red from crying, chose that moment to re-enter the kitchen and take her place at the table.

  “Why, there you are, dear,” Mawen said brightly. “I hope you’ve brought your appetite to the table.”

  “Yes, Mother, I’m quite hungry actually. As always, everything smells wonderful.”

  Smiling, Mawen heaped her plate with more scrambled eggs, bacon and hotcakes than she could eat in a week. “It looks absolutely delicious, Mother,” she said picking up her fork.

  “Mama, I know who was at the door,” Annalise said.

  Lapo cleared his throat. “That’s enough, child. Finish your breakfast”

  “But mama asked,” she whined.

  Jawen looked up from her plate. “Quiet, Annalise. Do as Father said and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

  “You just don’t want me to tell mama why Basha was at the door,” she accused in her snooty little voice.

  “Annalise, that’s quite enough,” Mawen chastised. “So who was at the door?” she asked, looking first at Jawen and then at her husband.

  Lapo cleared his throat to speak, but Jawen leapt to answer first. “It was just Basha. He brought me some flowers is all.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lapo scowled at her. “You just better not be entertaining accepting anything more from that boy than a bouquet of flowers.”

  He went back to eating his breakfast while Jawen’s appetite had deserted her.

  Chapter 2

  The Perfect Moment

  “Tichia, god of knowledge, wandered the world and

  Studied its motivations and operations after the break-up

  Of his parents. He met Sitha, goddess of mystery and magic,

  And tried to study her for a while before he asked her…”

  —The Legends of Arria

  Basha sat on a park bench in the town square, absently staring into thin air and plucking the petals from his wilted bouquet as he rethought his situation with Jawen. Maybe it’s useless, he thought.
He had no foreseeable future with her, but even worse, it appeared she was more concerned about her reputation than with marrying the man she supposedly loved. But if she could only see how much he cared for her, maybe she would change her mind.

  He looked up as he heard cawing. “Oh no, not this again!” Basha cried, cowering and covering his head as a flock of ravens buzzed him, screeching and pecking at his hands and the bouquet he still held.

  “Shoo! Go away! Leave me alone!” Basha cried out, flinging the bouquet at the most obstinate knot of birds. Most of the flock, startled by the flung bouquet, flew away, but the most stubborn birds lingered, landing on rooftops, lampposts, and benches a short distance away from him. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, trying ignore the birds as he got up. Shoving his hands dejectedly into his pants pockets, he began back down the main road towards home. He was slightly creeped out by the whole bird incident as it had happened to him three times within the last year while he worked in the fields or wandered near the edge of town. However, they had never attacked him within the town proper before now. This…this wasn’t normal. He didn’t have food with him. He didn’t even smell like food. His clothes were clean and he hadn’t eaten breakfast. “Stupid birds,” he muttered, glancing back at them, his footsteps speeding up until he knew they weren’t following him.

  As the Smiling Stallion Inn came into view, even the welcoming sign out front seemed to mock him, promising the inn was all he had in his future. But he wouldn’t accept that yet, not until he’d exhausted all other options.

  The only inn in town, the Smiling Stallion Inn was imposing at two stories tall. Worshippers sat inside the inn, around a table in an alcove underneath the mezzanine. Chanting, with heads bowed, they didn’t notice him as he walked through the front entrance into the foyer of the common room. Columns bore up the inn’s roof and the mezzanine, resembling the tree trunks from which they had come. Except for the furthest corners of the room, the room held a warm glow provided by candles in wall sconces and on a metal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. Behind the common room was the kitchen and the living quarters for the innkeeper and his family. The many guest rooms took up the entire upper floor.