"Mr. Orlon, sir."
Hearing that voice—that lovely, lilting voice sent a jolt through him, popped his eyes wide open. Teri, her name was. She collected his filthy clothing to wash, as well as guided him to the baths, last night. She was not a Midget, though she stood four feet eleven inches in height, her shapely body in crimson blouse and white skirt. Framed in flowing brown hair, her round face was cute with full lips, dimpled cheeks and big blue eyes. He gulped. Well he remembered those big blue eyes, looking so wantingly at him when they met. He swallowed.
"Mr. Orlon," she said more urgently. "I have your clothes, all clean and ready, and a message from that talkative fellow in cloak." She took in a breath and hazarded her guess, "He said you need to hurry as the day is slipping away."
Orlon stifled a laugh. Yeah, that certainly sounded like Ty the Parson.
With a yawn, he looked to the window where the dim light of daybreak slipped through a slit in the curtains, and he yawned again. And the time of day for such a message from the Parson was right as well…. Yet he paused in asking her to enter, his mind on the expression he had seen in her eyes, so remindful of Sharna. Confused as he was about the whole man/woman attraction thing, as attracted as he might feel toward her, his heart just was not into it.
He sighed and made sure he was properly covered. "Come in," he said.
Even through the door he heard her nervous giggle before the door opened and she stepped into the room. She beamed as brightly as the coming day and as lovely to his eyes as the night before, dressed in a blue blouse and green skirt, his clothes draped over an arm, shoes in hand. His white shirt, brown coat, vest and breeches, and undergarments looked brand new. Even his neatly polished shoes looked purchased that very day.
"All clean and ready, Mr. Orlon," she said, placing the clothes on a nearby chair, dropping the shoes in front of it. She faced him and smiled, adding, "I used a little of my brother’s cologne to take out the…uh, to make 'em smell pretty."
Meeting her eye to eye made him blush with the thought of how awful his cloths smelt—and one of the reasons they smelt that way: Majestus Sinobe’s final spell. But the thought was lost when he realized his eyes had been captured by her eyes, and the desire he saw within her eyes sent a trickle of sweat snaking down his nape. It took a gulp, clenched fists and a hard blink to break his eyes free.
"Th-thank you, Teri," he said, eyes averted. "Now, if you wouldn’t mind… I do need to get dressed and catch up with my friends."
"Uh, okay," she said, disappointment in her voice. "All right."
When the door closed behind her he breathed a sigh of relief, felt a pang of guilt. A pang that was overwhelmed by his need to quickly perform his morning ablutions, get dressed and get a move on. He not only had the Party waiting on him, but a journey home to begin and some sort of result of his good deed to witness.
Orlon slid out of bed and went to the table beneath the mirror on a side wall. Atop the table were a pan, pitcher of water and wash towels. In quick order, he used these to perform his morning ablutions, lastly using his fingers to comb down his damp hair. After a last glance in the mirror, he made his way to the chair where awaited his clothes and dressed. Each stitch of clothing donned brought a marveled sigh to his lips. They were so comfortable! Teri had truly done an outstanding job. Even their smell, brought on by her brother’s cologne, was pleasing.
He looked around to make sure he had not left anything behind, found nothing, then left the room. The walk down the hall was a good stretch of the legs, as he was given the key to the room farthest from the stairs. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he found the big room empty but for the man in fancily collared and cuffed white shirt, with blue vest, black breeches and presumed blue shoes. Something wrapped in a napkin sat on the counter before him.
"Ah, the one they await for outside arrives at last," he gave Orlon a big toothed smile, which dropped into a slight frown, his brow furrowed. "Wait a minute," he said, wagging a finger at the Midget. "I know you—" he shot a thumb over a shoulder at the entrance "—them." His smile returned. "You’re the ones who came looking for that…that thing in the attic."
"The Holy Pike," Orlon said, descending the stairs. "That was us."
"Ha! I thought I recognized you last night under all that filth, but there were fewer of you, so I wasn’t sure." A hand reached up to tug on a big ear. "Tell me, what happened to you guys? To that…that pike?"
Orlon was brought to a halt at the foot of the stairs by the man’s questions. Oh, the story he could tell in answer to them, of the harrowing events in their trek to and into the volcanic mountain, of how with a thrust of the Holy Pike he saved the whole wide world from the clutches of evil Tibtarni—whatever. He sighed. Yet he knew with his fellow travelers awaiting him he did not have time for all that storytelling.
"Let’s just say we had quite an adventure—a costly one in lives—and the pike served its part in defeating a great evil that threatened our world’s wellbeing," he said briskly as he made his way toward the door. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, people are waiting—"
"Hold on there."
Orlon paused at the counter, looking at him questioningly.
"The old soldier said you all didn’t have time for breakfast," he said, holding out the napkin wrapped object, "so my Mother fixed each of you a little something to go. Here."
"Thank you," Orlon accepted the proffered wrapped meal. "Now, I must be off."
"Fare-thee-well," the man said to his departing customer and looking up at the attic entrance, breathed, "Huh. I wonder what other objects of…value might be spirited away up there."
Upon exiting the hotel, Orlon came to a wide-legged stance, arms akimbo, eyes scanning the world before him from west to east. Over the Party, awaiting him at the road edge, his eyes swept without notice, and again without notice on the return trip westward. What he found was—an ordinary, every day morning. His hands dropped from his hips, the napkin wrapped meal nearly slipping from hand, and his shoulders slouched…
Before the disappointment at yet again finding no evident result of his good deed darkened his face a thought came to mind. Perhaps not finding any great change in the world was a positive sign. Suppose it represented that the time of peace and tranquility continued unabated because of the quest’s successful conclusion. He smiled. Yes, that made sense. The world continued as before because he had stopped the evil threatening it. That made perfect sense.
"Victorious soldiers journey home after their enemy’s surrender! Home and hearth, family and friends are a well deserved prize! I, Ty, the Parson, and the Party must escort the savior of the world home. The concerned parent seeks out succor for ill child! And we must do it swiftly so that we can get assistance for he whose sacrifice helped insure our quest’s success. Let us begin."
Expendendale smiled in appreciation for the consideration.
By the time Orlon brought his attention to Ty the Parson his spasmodic episode and wild spine to a wide-legged stance, staff pointing down Eltrondale Road, were done with. The Parson took off down the road. Close on his heels were the Party.
"Come on, slowpoke," Tarl said over his shoulder. "We’re heading…home."
Orlon was startled by his best friend’s disappointed tone when he said "home," but he had no time to contemplate it. His own desire not to be left behind, to get home as soon as possible had him thinking only of catching up. He hurried after them.