“She is, Fanna.”
“Will you be needing a room, then?”
“Two if you can spare them.” Judging by the full common room, Enaya wasn’t terribly hopeful.
“Two it be then,” Fanna said with a warm smile. “One silver a night per room.”
“That’s very reasonable. Thank you.”
“Will you be staying long Lady…?”
“Lady Edmira,” Enaya said, using her usual alias. “For as long as it takes to settle our affairs in your city.”
“Very well,” Fanna nodded. She knew better than to press for more detail on the nature of their business. “Follow me, my Lady.”
She led them to a stairway near the bar. They had to elbow a few patrons aside but followed her up.
“I must apologize, but the rooms be on the top floor,” Fanna said with a touch of embarrassment.
“No need to apologize, Fanna. We’re just grateful for the accommodations.”
The stairway was a seamless flight of granite, winding up twice with a break at each floor. The whole building appeared to be one solid piece of rock that had been carved into an inn, as there were no masonry lines in the stairs or walls.
Enaya felt winded when they finally reached the fifth floor. Fanna led them down a hallway lined with lit sconces. They stopped outside the last two rooms in the hallway. Fanna handed her two keys.
“Will you be dining downstairs tonight?” Fanna asked.
“Would it be asking too much to have meals brought up to our rooms?” Enaya was exhausted and wasn’t in the mood to walk back down that flight of stairs.
“Certainly, my Lady. We have a nice fish stew tonight. I’ll have four bowls brought up straight away.”
“Uh. Begging your pardon, Fanna,” Farrus said, making an awkward effort to sound polite. “Do you think I could get a double portion of that stew?”
Fanna looked him up and down thoughtfully.
“It’ll cost you five coppers for an extra meal.” When Farrus nodded gratefully, she turned to Sim. “Well, how about you, handsome? Will you be wanting an extra meal as well?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, Fanna,” Sim answered with a wide smile.
Enaya suspected that he had an immediate fondness for the woman. Fanna probably reminded him of his mother.
Fanna smiled and nodded.
“Five coppers. Pay the girl when she brings them up.” Fanna looked the group over. “What about your clothes? We offer laundering services.”
“I’m afraid circumstances forced us to travel light,” Enaya told her, lifting her dress to inspect the fabric. The green silk was covered in dirt, particularly near the hem. “This is all we have until I can meet with a dressmaker tomorrow.”
“Don’t be worrying about that, my Lady,” Fanna said, taking a hold of Enaya’s dress and inspecting the stains with a disapproving shake of her head. “A lady such as yourself shouldn’t have to walk around covered in dirt. Just leave your clothes outside the door before you be turning in for the night. I’ll have someone take care of them. Check your door when you wake up. Your clothes be hanging there, good as new.”
“Fanna…we can’t thank you enough. Your kindness…” Enaya started but was cut off.
“You don’t be needing to thank me,” Fanna said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Any friend of Hisha’s be a friend of the Blue Trellis.”
Enaya nodded gratefully. Fanna smiled warmly at the group and turned to leave.
“One last thing, Fanna,” Enaya called out. “Do you have a wash room?”
“There be tubs in the rooms, my Lady,” Fanna answered, and then disappeared down the flight of stairs.
“You two,” Enaya said, rounding on Farrus and Sim. She wagged a finger in each of their faces. “I don’t want any trouble from you. Understand?” She fixed them each with an accusatory glare. “Stay in your room tonight. In your room. Am I clear?”
Sim was about to object, but Farrus cut in.
“All we’re going to do tonight is eat and sleep,” he reassured her. Sim still looked ready to protest, but Farrus shut him up with a look.
“Eat and sleep, Master Farrus. I’ll hold you to that.” She wasn’t convinced that she could trust them, but she would have Givara keep an eye on them. “Tomorrow Givara and I intend to run a few errands in the city. We’ll need new supplies in case we have to leave suddenly on foot. During our errands we’ll be inquiring about the Librarian. I don’t know where he is but I do know that he is in this city.”
“You can’t just go up to people and ask about the Librarian, for heaven’s sake. The man is a myth,” Farrus grunted.
“We are not fools, Master Farrus. We know how to be discreet,” she answered with a shake of her head.
“And what are we to do, Enaya?” Sim asked. He was standing with his arms folded, a smirk on his stubbly face. She realized that it had been many days since he’d seen a razor, and the growth of hair on his face made him look rugged, desirable. She forced down a sudden unspeakable urge. “You two will find a barber tomorrow. You need a shave.” She would not give in to the occasional moments when he made her blood rush. She had to maintain control of herself. “And find a tailor. You’ll need new clothing. Here…” She pulled out her coin pouch and dropped several coins in his outstretched palm. “Take some money. Purchase some practical clothing. A warm coat, some good sturdy shirts and trousers. And a bed roll. We may have some nights under the stars in our future.”
Sim put the coins in his pocket. His green eyes looked tired. It had been a long day.
“Good night,” Enaya said, handing Farrus his key.
He took it and led Sim into their room. Givara watched them with an unreadable expression. Her behavior had become increasingly erratic ever since the gruff old guardsman had come into their lives. Enaya wondered what was going on between them.
Their own room was considerable for an inn so far from the Governor’s palace. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was spacious. Two four-post beds with feather mattresses sat against the wall to their right. Across from the beds was a fireplace cut into the wall like the one in the common room, though considerably smaller. Near the fireplace sat two brass tubs and a washstand set in front of a mirror hanging on the wall.
She walked over to the tubs and was disappointed to find that they were empty. All she really wanted right now was a warm bath, a hot meal, and a good night’s sleep. Now she would have to wait for serving girls to bring water up to her rooms. What a chore that would be. Five flights of stairs carrying hot buckets of water. She was about to remark to Givara on how foolish it was for this inn not to have a proper bath house when she noticed the copper pipes protruding from the wall. They had running water! It was a rare but wonderful find, usually reserved for palaces and inns that catered to luxury. What a wonderfully pleasant surprise.
She turned the faucets, setting the water to filling the tubs, twisting the handles until she found the desired warmth. There were squares of soap on the wash stand and a basket next to the tubs with thick cloth towels. Then she and Givara disrobed and sat in their respective tubs for a soak.
The warm water was marvelous. She hadn’t realized just how sore and tired her muscles were until she was immersed to her neck in the warm bath. After washing her skin and hair, and feeling restored and relaxed, she decided it was time to have a talk with Givara.
“You seem to have taken quite a shine to Master Farrus,” she began. Since Givara had come to her, Enaya had never seen her show any emotion besides anger and impatience. It had been odd to know that Givara was capable of such lovely smiles.
Givara was laid back in the tub with her eyes closed. “Master Farrus is an interesting man.”
“Interesting. That’s one way of putting it.” Enaya didn’t want to push her buttons, but she wanted to have a real conversation about how the woman was feeling. Did she even feel at all?
Givara opened her eyes and looked at Enaya suspiciously. “Yes, he’s interesting
. What other way is there to put it?”
“Oh I don’t know, Givara. How about charming? Or cunning? Or handsome?”
“What kind of game are you playing at here Enaya?” Givara accused with narrow eyes. “Come out with it.”
“Alright, then. Let’s not pretend that you haven’t been mooning over the man, ever since he came into our lives.” Givara’s face took on a shocked and injured look. “Oh please, you know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the way you look at him, Givara. Out with it. I want the truth.”
Givara’s face was twisting as though she was a boiling tempest of rage. Her face was red and her green eyes flared. She opened her mouth to protest, but forced back whatever she had planned to say and took a moment to compose herself.
“I will admit that it’s possible I‘ve been acting strangely of late,” she said, trying to sound calm. “But you must understand Enaya, my life from my original birth, through each rebirth at the Creator’s behest, has been about duty. In my first life, I was born to lead, trained from the time I could walk to fight. As queen, my life was my people. There was no time for affairs of the heart. Then the Creator came and passed judgment on me. I have been pulled back into your realm countless times, hoping against hope that each time will be the last. Kiellanne and Aizzesh have moved on. The last time I returned to limbo, I was alone. The Creator has forgiven them and returned their souls to the heavens. And still I serve. I know it’s foolish, perhaps selfish even, but I am a woman. When Farrus looks at me, I feel…different. I suppose I feel more like a woman and less like a warrior. I do not pretend to believe I can have happiness the way a mortal of flesh and blood can enjoy, but the looks, the flirtation...is nice.”
Enaya couldn’t help the tears. Through all their years of traveling together Givara had never exposed herself in such a raw, emotional way. She had become accustomed to seeing Givara as something akin to a weapon, an emotionless tool. For the first time she saw her bodyguard as something else: a woman. She wondered suddenly if Givara had ever even known the touch of a man. Had she ever been in love?
“Givara, were you married in your first life? Was there a king?”
Givara relaxed in her tub and looked at the ceiling contemplatively. “There were suitors, many suitors. But no king. I’ve never known love. My heart has always belonged to the battle.”
“I’m sorry, Givara,” Enaya whispered tenderly. She couldn’t help the tears from shedding. What a terrible fate.
“It is of no consequence, Enaya,” she sighed. “I’ve yet to meet a man who could handle me.” Enaya smiled and laughed. Givara certainly was an imposing woman. “And what of Sim, then?” Givara asked with a mischievous grin.
“Well, he is easy on the eyes, I suppose,” she answered uncomfortably. This conversation was not meant to be about her own desires. “But he’s also bull-headed, stubborn, ignorant, and incapable.”
“Come now,” Givara said with a loud snorting laugh. “You’ve just described every man, ever born. Surely there is something redeeming about the boy.”
Enaya thought long and hard about him. “Well, he is passionate. I like that, at least. And loyal. And he’s very sincere.”
“He’s also very skilled with those two swords he carries,” Givara added. “I was very surprised by that.”
“Yes he was,” Enaya agreed. “Perhaps you could show him a few things.”
Givara thought about it with a look of doubt. “My technique is relative to my sword. I don’t think he could learn it.”
“Oh come now,” Enaya said. “Surely we can find a blacksmith somewhere who can fashion him a similar blade.” Givara shrugged effusively. “Harvens’ skill in the blade arts is legendary. It’s in his blood. Teach him what you can, Givara. It will only make him stronger.”
A knock came at the door and a pretty young serving girl entered carrying a tray with their meals. The smell of the fish stew filled the room, and Enaya suddenly wished she’d ordered a second helping like the men. The girl left the tray on a table, dropped a curtsy and left.
They got out of the tubs and dried off. Then they put on robes that Givara found in a wardrobe. Soon they were seated at the table devouring their evening meal. Fortunately, Fanna had given them extra bread as the stew was not enough.
When the meal was done, they drank tea that had come with their meal. Enaya felt relaxed as she slumped in her chair, sipping the warm, rose-flavored brew. Her mind kept drifting back to the startling things she had learned in the last few days -- the Creator, herself, walking the Earth, in the guise of a teenage girl, a former friend of Desirmor’s filthy monomach playing guardsman in a remote port city, and the stain. What to make of that story? Could that really be true?
“Givara…” she asked, suddenly. “That story Farrus told us back in Carleton, about the stain. Is that really true?”
“More or less. I’m not sure about Farrus’ version of events, but the stain is real.”
“Is that why the Creator broke the land apart? To search for the stain?” Givara nodded. “I always believed it was to punish man, to divide him and keep him from war.”
Givara sighed and her eyes took on a faraway look. “Stories have a way of changing with every generation. I will never forget that moment standing on the field of battle feeling as though victory was nearly in my grasp. A light broke out of the sky and blinded me. Blinded all of us. When my eyes regained focus, a woman dressed in white stood before us. I knew at once who she was and fell to my knees weeping. Every emotion I’d ever felt rushed through me in an instant. Her voice…” Givara began to choke up, her words becoming softer, more strained. “I’m sorry, Enaya. I can’t. I can’t speak of this.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked at her feet as she fought to gain control of herself. “Imagine if you can everything you’ve ever done wrong. Every guilty feeling you’ve ever had erupting inside of you at the same time. You could never understand the shame, to be judged so. As men and women, we live our lives with only guilt and shame as a measure of consequence. To stand before my maker and to be judged is something I would never have wished to endure. The pain…the infinite pain. Yet I must bear the memory for all of eternity. My purgatory is my shame. I must live it over and over until my soul is set free. And I long for that day.” She wept openly, her face covered by her hands. “Oh how I long for that day, Enaya.”
Enaya had tears in her eyes as well. So many years of friendship and never had Givara been so open and fragile before. She moved her chair over beside her friend and held her. They wept together for some time that night. When Enaya finally went to bed, she couldn’t help but send a prayer to the Creator to once and for all have mercy on her dear friend's soul.
******************************************************************
Farrus really needed a bath. As he waited for the water to fill in the brass tub, he realized it had been nearly a week since his last one. He felt embarrassed. How had the two women put up with him? He smelled like a sick goat. Prianhe could probably track him across the ocean just by following the smell.
“You really need this bath, Farrus,” Sim joked, as he stripped down and got into his own tub.
Farrus merely grunted and eased himself into the warm water. His old joints ached from a night of sleeping on a trevloc’s back, a long walk into the city, and a fight that had forced him to kill a man for the first time in years. At one time he had been numb to the guilt and shame of taking a man’s life. Today he felt a great weight resting on his shoulders. He hated to admit it, but years spent policing the streets of a quiet city had made him rusty and soft.
“I like this,” Sim said, pointing to the faucets. “This would have saved my back a whole lot of pain.”
“All that hard work was good for you,” Farrus grinned.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sim said quietly.
“I’d rather be home in my own bed.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well someone has to watch your back. Those two wi
ll chew you up and spit you out,” Farrus joked.
“Women,” Sim huffed. “Do they all think men are just mindless fools?”
“Every last one.”
“Is there any hope then?”
“Not that I can see.” Farrus ran a soapy hand through his greasy hair. He really needed this bath. “You handled yourself well today, you know.”
“I suppose so,” Sim said softly. Silence hung in the air between them. “Does it always hurt this much?”
“What? You mean killing?”
“Yes. Killing.”
Farrus looked at him, his head sticking out of the water as though it was floating on its own. Sim hadn’t said much since they had defended themselves against those bandits. Farrus knew that the mantle of father figure had passed to him now that Sevin and Sarimus were gone. He liked the boy enough, but mentoring had never made him comfortable. He had made a mess of his own life long ago. It didn’t seem right for someone with a past like his to be setting an example.
But Sim did need guidance. Killing a man for the first time was painful, even when the death was justified. Farrus could remember his first kill as though it had just happened. It was his third day of active duty. Six months of training to be a soldier, and suddenly they expect you to be one. His unit had been patrolling the Hatherford Pass just outside a town called Salem in the Turkan region of Fandrall. Bandits had been hitting merchant trains for months, and his unit was there to hunt them down. He was only eighteen. Walking around in his uniform and carrying a sword, made him feel invincible, until they found the bandits. Two in his unit fell under arrows. One of them had shared a room with him in the barracks during training. The man he killed was a starving farmer, dressed in rags, with a rusty old short sword. Desirmor had taken his lands and given them to a newly appointed noble. Made the man a slave. It was bad enough killing a man he didn’t know. It had nearly devastated him when he learned the man’s story.
“Yes, Sim. It will always hurt, and you will always remember your first kill. Over time you may grow numb to the way it feels. That’s when you need to start worrying about yourself. Your emotions are what will ultimately set you apart from Desirmor. Your emotions will be your strength. Having people around that you love and care about gives you something to fight for. The day you stop caring, he wins.”
The Innkeeper's Son Page 24
