Sheria didn’t move. She merely stood and gave Hagus a look that could kill a dead man. Though Whill thought it impossible Hagus blushed and gave a weak smile, “Please, my love?”
Sheria nodded, satisfied. “Of course, dear.”
She gave them a small bow and went on her way. Hagus gave out a long breath of air. “My wife, she’s a doll. Jenna, she’s our daughter, she’s the cook in the family. My other daughter, Oreona, she works with us also. Now, uh, where was I-oh, yes-young lad, could I interest you in some cider?”
“Please, sir!” Hagus got Tarren a tall glass of cider and excused himself, retreating to the back.
Whill chuckled. “Have you ever seen anyone so excitable?”
Abram took a long swallow, then turned to Tarren, who had just taken a seat on a large stool. “Listen, my boy, when we tell our version of the story, keep quiet about getting your throat cut, and Whill healing you.”
“Aww, but that’s the best part!”
“That may be,” Whill said, “but I don’t want the trouble of having to explain powers even I don’t understand. That kind of stuff makes people nervous. Just don’t mention it, alright? For all our sakes.”
“I guess,” Tarren huffed.
“Promise?” Abram asked.
“Promise.” Tarren still looked very disappointed.
Abram smiled and patted him on the back. “I tell you what. If you can keep quiet about it now, I’ll let you tell the whole story to the king when we get to Kell-Torey.”
Tarren lit up so, Whill thought the boy’s eyes would pop out of his head. “The king, really? You really mean it, Abram? You have my word!”
Hagus returned and set two more beers on the bar. His expression was a little easier now. “Your rooms will be ready shortly. You can leave your luggage with me and it will be seen to. Also, your baths are ready, and food will follow. So whenever you’re ready, go ahead. The bathing room is up the stairs, first room on the right.”
“Thank you,” Whill said. “I think I’ll do just that.” He retrieved two gold coins from his pocket and set them on the bar.
Hagus looked at the gold in amazement. “Good sir, the room, meal, bath-well, the cost for all is no more than three in silver.”
Whill leaned in and said, “Yes, but we will need more of your services before we leave. Consider this advance payment. A man’s silence is a costly thing at times. I trust we will not gain any unwanted attention by entrusting you with our story. Not, that is, until we are far from here.”
Hagus was adamant. “Yes, sir, mum’s the word! You can count on me!”
“Good.”
Whill made his way upstairs, and Abram and Tarren soon followed. The bathing room consisted of four large tubs, three steaming with hot water. Next to each tub there was a small table with towels, soaps, and scrub brushes. A large fireplace at the center of the room roared, with four large kettles of boiling water over it.
Whill soaked in the hot water long after Abram and Tarren had finished. His muscles still ached from the incident with Tarren. The hot water and fire had almost lulled him to sleep when a girl who must have been Oreona entered the room. She instantly looked at the floor.
“Begging your pardon, Whill, sir, but your food is ready and your friends await you downstairs.”
“Thank you. Tell them I will join them shortly.” She nodded and left as Whill got out and dressed in clean clothes.
Downstairs the band had taken a break and there were about half as many people as before. Abram and Tarren sat at a large table; they had waited for Whill to begin. The table was set with a blue velvet cloth and fine dishes. A large pot of steaming stew sat at the middle of the table, two loaves of marbled bread, white cheese, and an assortment of fruits. A pitcher of beer two Tankards and a tall glass with a smaller pitcher of cider along with a small plate of butter all sat before them. Whill grabbed a Tankard and toasted with Abram and Tarren: “Lelamandelia.”
Tarren asked what it meant and Whill explained. Tarren insisted that they do it again so he could join in. They ate and made little conversation. Whill was surprised by his own appetite. He had three helpings of stew and finished off a loaf of bread by himself, along with half the brick of cheese.
When they were done, Abram lit his pipe and sat back, content. “While you were bathing, Hagus told me of an excellent blacksmith where we can purchase some fine arrows,” he said.
Tarren lit up. “Do you think I could get my own sword? I might need it if we run into villains on the way to the mountains.”
Abram and Whill eyed one another.
“Tarren, Abram and I must venture to the mountains alone.”
“But, Whill-”
“Let me finish. In your father’s absence we must do as he would wish. I do not think your father would permit you to go into the mountains. You will stay here in town until we return.”
Tarren’s eyes watered. “But who will I stay with? Wouldn’t I be much safer with the two of you? What if the pirates come back for me? Please let me go, please!”
Will knew exactly how the boy felt. He had felt the same when Abram had left him those many times when he was a small boy. Now he saw himself in Tarren: a scared child trying desperately to act tough, not understanding why he could not join, wondering if he was unwanted.
“I know you want to come, Tarren, and I would love to have you with us. But this is not a decision we can make on your parents’ behalf. When we return you will journey with us to Kell-Torey. Let there be comfort in that at least.”
Tarren’s shoulders sank. “How long will you be?”
“It will take us two days each there and back again,” Abram said. “How long we will be in the dwarf city I cannot say. But it should be no longer than a few days.”
Tarren looked no happier with this information. He slumped back in his chair and stared at his empty plate. Whill stood. “Would you like to come with me to get some supplies for our trip?”
Tarren could not help but smile as he got up from his chair. “Aye.”
Abram said he would stay behind to speak with Hagus and reminded them of some of the items they would need. Together, Whill and Tarren left the inn.
They spent most of the afternoon gathering supplies for the following day’s journey. At the blacksmith’s they purchased four dozen arrows and, to Tarren’s delight, a small knife that could be hung from the boy’s belt. From the town store they bought bread and cheeses; meat, Whill explained, would be acquired in the wild.
As they ventured up the main street, Whill took in the pleasant sea air once again. It was a beautiful late afternoon. Faint white clouds hung in the sky, seemingly unmoving, as the sun bathed the world with warmth. They passed many log homes, and a few with stone walls. People were busy with the day’s chores but still had time to offer a “good day” or a “heya” as they passed. A butcher was busy preparing a hog for sale, while a young lad sat on the porch of the butcher shop plucking a headless chicken. On the opposite side of the street a woman swept dirt from a doorway. She gave Tarren a wink as she hummed a jubilant tune.
They headed towards the healer’s house on the outskirts of town. As the buildings thinned and the forest trail came into view, a woman ran past with two soldiers following. They went straight to the healer’s house and were greeted by urgent voices which Whill could not decipher. He began to jog toward the home and Tarren followed suit. As they neared the building, Whill began to make out the urgent words emanating from the open windows and doors. A woman was screaming in a way that made Whill cringe.