The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “A friend.”

  The faerie looks up at me. She’d been busy spinning around in the air, but now she pauses, completely upside down and stares at me.

  “What?”

  “Is that what you want? A friend?”

  It’s a stupid question. And a stupid conclusion to make. We’re not in a kid’s tv show, but maybe—no.

  Yes.

  “Friends? Ye would be friends with the fae?”

  She scoffs at me, mockingly. But the tiny fae face isn’t as genuinely annoyed as normal, and I see what looks like a smile twitching around the scowl. I grin at her.

  “Maybe. I wouldn’t mind having one of you floating about. I know of a certain hero that did that for quite a long time.”

  “I’m no pet, mortal.”

  “No, but you are interested in me. And if you’re going to follow me about, why not get to know one another?”

  The faerie lies down sideways on the air and props her head on one hand as she stares at me. Seriously, this time.

  “Do you know what would happen if ye dared to mingle with the fae? There are laws, mortal. Ones that shouldn’t be crossed.”

  I hesitate. Now I feel like I’m being tested. But I can only go on what I know of her. I’ve seen so much of the fae, and I think I understand the answer to this question. I nod at her, just as serious as she is.

  “There are consequences. I know. Dire ones. But wouldn’t a friend be willing to risk anything for another friend? I’d be honored to get to know you, if you’d let me.”

  For a second the faerie’s face is blank. She stares at me from head to toe. And then she grins at me.

  “Good! You finally understand a bit. You are such a fool, you, that I thought ye’d never figure it out.”

  I blink at her. But the faerie flies closer, and smiles again.

  “I’ve grown interested in your kind again, after so long. If you want to talk with me, I suppose a friend would be better than strangers, eh?”

  I can’t believe it. But suddenly my heart is beating fast, and I feel a surge of passion and life in my chest. I feel alive again.

  “I—of course. I’d be honored, as I said. My name is Ryoka Griffin, but you know that. Can I ask your name or is that wrong?”

  The faerie considers this.

  “My name—my truest of names—is a secret to all. And ye would not be able to pronounce it even so. But you may call me…Ivolethe.”

  Ivolethe. The name rings in my ears for a second. But the faerie isn’t done. Carefully, she extends a small hand towards me. It’s such a small hand, but I extend a finger and let her shake that. For a second, the briefest second I feel coldness, the deepest chill, and at the same time a wonderful cool, a refreshing breeze and the taste of winter on my skin. It’s not at all unpleasant; I could have experienced that forever. But then the touch is gone.

  But the faerie remains. Ivolethe flies back and stands on the table. I stare at her, and see her grin again. Pointed teeth, and a gaze older than the world. Her insectile wings fan out, and she begins to freeze the wood under her feet. But she’s here, and she and I are friends.

  I’m friends with a faerie.

  Suddenly, everything’s okay again.

  3.04

  When I came down with Ivolethe on my shoulder Erin freaked out.

  “Oh my god! A faerie!”

  She doesn’t do subtle. As every eye turns to me I glance at Ivolethe. The small fairy is just sitting on my shoulder, looking around with keen interest.

  She’s not even that cold; she’s definitely part ice, but she’s not giving me frostbite, which I think is a definite improvement. To be honest, it’s like having a miniature air conditioner on my shoulder. Not ideal in the winter, but I’d pay anything for one on a hot summer day.

  “How’d she get in? Don’t cause an avalanche again! Please? It’s not even my inn!”

  I have to smile as Erin tries to shield herself with a serving tray as a shield. She really, really can’t do subtle. I wait for someone to ask what Erin’s looking at—

  Until I realize they’re still staring. Everyone. Agnes, the guests, the two barmaids—everyone. And they’re looking directly at Ivolethe.

  Slowly, I look at the faerie on my shoulder. She looks like normal, but—

  “Hey Ivolethe. Can the others…see you?”

  The faerie shrugs as she looks around the room.

  “Perhaps. There is much iron here. Too much for a glamour.”

  She looks at some of the gaping faces.

  “Yes. I think they can, or they would not gape like buffoons.”

  “It talks!”

  Agnes exclaims in tones of ringing horror. Yep. They can hear Ivolethe, too. I stare at Erin. She stares at me.

  “Wait, where are the rest of them, Ryoka?”

  I look around the room. Everyone’s still staring. This is amazingly awkward.

  “I’ll uh—explain in a bit. Can we get a seat, Erin? Agnes?”

  That breaks the spell. In a few seconds I’m seated in the center of the room, while everyone tries to cluster around me asking questions. I hate it. I try to relocate to a corner of the room, but Erin won’t hear of it and Agnes is beaming. She probably smells another attraction for the inn.

  Ivolethe looks unconcerned as well. She stares up at the Humans around us, older men and women mostly, mostly married couples or travelers, and sniffs. I’ll say this for her and the other faeries; they’ve all got the air of little queens, with the arrogance to match.

  “Well? What are ye staring at?”

  No one moves. Even Erin’s staring with fascination at Ivolethe as she sits on my shoulder. I clear my throat.

  “She’s right. This is private, so if you’d all leave now?”

  “Yes, begone or I will curse ye with faerie magic!”

  No one moves. Ivolethe scowls. For my part, I’m at a loss. Normally my…charming disposition helps scare away even the friendliest busybody, but these people are too fascinated by her. One of them, a burly man with massive forearms, speaks.

  “Is this really a Winter Sprite? Truly?”

  “Yup! Doesn’t she look cool? I guess faeries can’t disguise themselves when they’re indoors, huh?”

  More confusion and looks among the other onlookers.

  “Faeries? What are faeries?”

  I open my mouth at the same time Erin does, but both of us pause. This world doesn’t know about the fae? Even though there are actual faeries that visit regularly? Ivolethe sits up with indignation on my shoulder.

  “Welp! Ignorant fool! I am a member of the Winter Court! I demand respect!”

  The man just looks at her curiously. I sense…trouble.

  “They’re the creatures that bring winter each year?”

  “And throw snow at us from the sky?”

  “And torment the animals?”

  Some of the other onlookers look closer at Ivolethe. To her credit, she shows not a whit of fear. Can faeries even feel fear? When have I ever seen them even acting afraid? Oh yeah. When they were facing down a fire-breathing Dragon. Shit.

  “I don’t think annoying her is a good idea.”

  Erin looks scared. She told me the faeries once threw an avalanche into her old inn when Pisces bothered them. I…don’t want to see that here.

  But Ivolethe appears remarkably restrained despite her clear ire. Why? My analytical side takes less than a second to give my unhappy brain a response.

  Normally, any of the faeries would have thrown snow or frozen the people around us if they were this mad. But Ivolethe hasn’t done that because she can’t. Cold iron saps a faerie’s strength and makes them mortal. She can’t use her magic here.

  What she can use is her mouth. So she does.

  “Leave me you fool, or I will make you suffer! A faerie’s oath on it!”

  That’s bad too! I open my mouth, but the big guy isn’t impressed any longer.

  “You can’t do anything. You’re just like one of them Fraerling
s in Baleros. Tiny.”

  He cautiously pokes her where her breasts would be if she had nipples. I open my mouth and shove my chair back, but Ivolethe moves first. Her tiny mouth opens and bites.

  The scream is immediate and loud. Ivolethe might be tiny, but she’s still big enough to take a chunk out of the man’s finger. Not just a chunk; she bites so far down that I see bone as he yanks his hand away. Her teeth cut threw his flesh like nothing.

  The man screams again as he holds up his bloody finger. Everyone, including me, stares in horror at Ivolethe. The faerie looks supremely unconcerned as she turns her head and reveals bulging cheeks. She chews, swallows, and grins at us with bloody teeth. Then she waves at Agnes, whose smile has frozen on her face.

  “Innkeep! Your finest meat and drink! I am a guest here, am I not? I want service!”

  The onlookers desert our table in seconds. The big man might have come back for vengeance, but Agnes drags him away with promises of a healing potion. Erin and I stare at Ivolethe as she hops off my shoulder and onto the table. After a while Erin looks at me.

  “So…Ryoka. Introduce me to your friend.”

  I nod. Ivolethe triumphantly leaps up as one of the barmaids comes hurrying back with some stew. Erin must have made it ahead of time, because it smells delicious. The faerie leaps into the bowl as if it were a hot tub and immediately begins chomping down on her immediate surroundings. I carefully move the bowl into the center of the table and clear my throat.

  “This is…Ivolethe, Erin. She’s one of the Frost Faeries that’s been following me around since I met them. And she is my friend.”

  “Right. That’s what I said.”

  “No, I mean, she’s my friend. I am friends with a faerie.”

  Did I say that with too much reverence? Maybe. But the words that I speak aloud are magical in their own way. A faerie. I really have one of the fae sitting in front of me, chomping down on a slice of potato the size of her head in a bowl full of soup. My friend.

  “Oh my gosh.”

  Erin finally gets it. She puts her hands on her cheeks in delight.

  “You made a friend! Ryoka made a friend! I’m really pleased to meet you, Ivolethe! Any friend of Ryoka’s is a friend of mine. I’m sure we’ll get along great—”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Ivolethe doesn’t even look straight at Erin. She takes another bite of the potato and squishes it into a ball with both hands. Then dunks the potato into the gravy and scarfs the rest of it down. Her eating is both disgusting and fascinating to watch.

  “I will not be your friend, Human. I have made one friend, and she is the reason I entered this place of iron and sacks of flesh. I do not need another, and if I did, it would certainly not be ye.”

  Erin’s face falls. I don’t quite look at her, and I’m not quite smiling behind my hand. Looks like she’s met someone she can’t instantly charm. Hah!

  “What? But you guys like me, right?”

  “Why should I or any of my kin like a thoughtless waste of space like ye?”

  “I…I made that big feast for you all! You loved it! And you paid me in gold, which turned out to be fake flowers—but you said it was a great meal! You did!”

  I cough.

  “I don’t think Ivolethe was there, Erin. Not all the faeries stayed around your inn. Some were with me the entire time.”

  “Oh. But I did make food! Magical food! I even got a Skill from it!”

  Ivolethe looks slightly impressed. She stops eating to study Erin from head to toe, at any rate.

  “Truly? A faerie’s banquet? I was not there, but my kin spoke of it. My answer remains no.”

  I interrupt Erin before she can try again. I’m not sure how Ivolethe would react if Erin pushed the matter—and I don’t want her losing a digit.

  “I’m sure Erin respects your decisions, Ivolethe. But she’s my friend as well. My best Human friend. I uh, was just wondering if we could talk. Unless you’re busy?”

  Erin gives me a betrayed glance, but Ivolethe just shakes her head. She sinks deeper into the bowl of soup; I notice the steam has already stopped rising, and it looks like the gravy is starting to congeal thanks to Ivolethe’s freezing presence.

  “If I had aught to do, I would be doing it. And we are already talking, fool.”

  Yikes. Ivolethe may call herself my friend, but she’s clearly going to be the kind of friend who uses words as barbs no matter how close we are. I always wondered what having a friend like that would be like.

  I wondered what having a true friend would be like, too. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop smiling. Erin’s looking at both me and the faerie oddly.

  “You look so creepy right now, Ryoka.”

  “Shut up, Erin. Ivolethe? Why can everyone see you indoors? Is it because of the iron?”

  Ivolethe sits up a bit in her bowl as two more come for Erin and me, complete with soft, warm sliced bread. She stares around at the other tables, and the other guests instantly look down at their food.

  “Hmf. It is the iron. Too much of it interferes with our magic. Outside it would not matter, but indoors is like a cage in a way. I cannot use my spells. But I can bite.”

  She grins at me again with those sharp teeth. Erin shudders.

  “Interesting. But Erin and I can see you no matter if we’re outside or not. Why is that?”

  A tiny shrug.

  “I do not know. If ye had the eyes of a cat or god—or ye were great masters of magic like Myrddin, it would make sense. But ye aren’t.”

  Erin looks confused.

  “Who’s Myrddin?”

  “Merlin, Erin.”

  “Oh. Oh. Merlin! He’s real! What’s he like? Does he have a cool staff? What kind of magic did he—”

  I cut Erin off, although I really want to know as well. The thing about faeries is that you have to stick to one subject and keep bothering them about it. Get sidetracked and they’ll lead you down a merry trail of breadcrumbs, but never get to the truth.

  “We don’t have that kind of magic, Ivolethe. So how else would we see you? Are they any ways mortals can see faeries?”

  She shrugs again.

  “Plenty. If you stood in the right place under full moon, or caught us dancing without glamor—if you had the secret drink of the fae, you would be able to see us, but I would know if ye were taught thusly.”

  “Drink? Of the fae?”

  Erin looks confused…again…so I explain it to her. How does she not know any myths about faeries?

  “The faerie’s drink would be given to people trusted enough to enter a faerie mound. They would be able to see the secret world with it. Could it be that?”

  A rude snort.

  “Hardly. Ye cannot simply make the faerie’s drink by chance. Ye would need the essence of countless gases and things not known to ye humans. Poisons and humors of foul natures beyond your ken.”

  “Such as…?”

  Ivolethe sighs dramatically. But there’s a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  “Ye truly want to know? Then, grab as many insects as ye can, Humans! Crunch them up in your mouth, for one of the ingredients is the shell of bugs that may be used to create blood out of water.”

  “Ew! You have to eat that?”

  Ivolethe nods in satisfaction as Erin wrinkles her nose. But I pause. Blood out of water? That sounds like part of a riddle; probably the rhyme to the faeries’ drink they’d tell people. Blood out of water. A dye?

  “When you say insects that can be used to create blood out of water…do you mean carmine? In that case, Erin and I have eaten lots of that already.”

  “What? We have?”

  Erin turns horrified eyes to me. Ivolethe looks up sharply as well. I nod.

  “Carmine is a big ingredient in anything colored red, Erin. Skittles, lemonade…if you’ve had anything like that in the past, you’ve eaten ground up insect shells.”

  Just a little bit, in truth. But Erin turns pale and Ivolethe looks… />
  “Well, there are many other things that go into the brew. Not just…that.”

  “Maybe we’ve eaten all the ingredients before.”

  “Really? Like bugs?”

  “We eat countless bugs each year, Erin. They’re all ground up in our food. And companies use a lot of preservatives…”

  I think out loud as Erin makes gagging sounds over her meat.

  “The U.S. government started putting fluoride in the water decades ago. And we breathe in any number of pollutants that we didn’t in the past. Add that to whatever they put in most foods in the form of preservatives and to change the taste…Ivolethe, what else goes into your brew?”

  “As if I’d tell you! The brew is secret to all mortals! And ye’d never guess in a million years!”

  “Really? Let me just list off a few things and you let me know if I’m getting close. Sodium nitrate? Propylene glycol? Uh…what’s it called…olestra? Monosodium glutamate? Sodium benzoate?”

  She glares at me.

  “I do not know half of these names! You must be making them up!”

  “Really? Well, sodium benzoate originally came from benzoin, a resin found on trees. It’s an ingredient in incense—”

  I see Ivolethe’s eyes widen. Just for a fraction of a second, and then her head spins away.

  “I-I don’t know anything about such things. This talk bores me!”

  Erin and I exchange a glance. But Ivolethe’s mouth is clamped shut. Erin leans over to me, looking slightly green.