“Ye’ve done yer duty and reported the attack!Now, unless ye have a platoon to add to our forces, go on and git!”He ripped the door open and shoved Bastion into the damp dark.“An’ keep yer damn mouth shut!”
He slammed the door in Bastion’s face.
__________
A drizzle followed Bastion back into town, further disparaging his mood.
He may have done his duty, but the urgency he’d felt since leaving the village hadn’t slackened, continuing to gnaw at his gut like a rat trapped under a hot pot.Reporting the attack on Windwick wasn’t enough.He had to meet with Lord Kyrith.
But his stomach growled, reminding him that he needed to see to his own needs first.
The thought of food sent him looking for an inn.Bastion knew there had to be one somewhere, but the empty streets and eerie glow of light through the mist made everything look the same.
He kept to the main streets, but the longer he wandered, the more hunger and fatigue manifested.Cold crept under his collar despite his hood being up, and a clammy feeling wormed its way through his clothes.Finally, a door opened, letting laughter and music escape.
Bastion stopped beneath a swinging sign with a white sea dragon painted on it that readThe Serpent’s Rest: Inn and Tavern.
As he stepped inside, warmth enveloped him, and Bastion became aware of just how sweaty and damp he was.The mouthwatering smell of hot stew and baked bread, laced with the sweet scent of sugar, consumed his senses, and his stomach growled.
In the front half of the room, serving girls moved between tables packed with patrons while dancers filled the back, obscuring the musicians who kept up a lively rhythm.To his right, a long bar stretched all the way to a stairwell.
“What can I do fer ye?”a man behind the bar rumbled.He had the height and girth of a bear, a full beard, and a warm smile.
“Are you the innkeeper?”Bastion asked, stepping up to the counter.
“I am.Name’s Bartholomew, but call me Bart,” he said.He threw a rag over his shoulder and extended a hand in greeting.
“Bastion.”He pulled two gold coins from his purse and pressed them into Bart’s massive palm.“I need a hot meal and a fast horse.”
Bart tilted his head to look at the coins.“I can help with the meal,” he said.“But I can’t sell ye a horse in good conscience.Yer liable to break the poor beast's leg in this fog, or ride right over a cliff into the sea.”
Bastion wanted to unleash a scathing remark.
“There’s enough here for a room and breakfast, though,” Bart said thoughtfully.He tossed the coins in the air and caught them in a meaty fist before leveling a discerning look at Bastion.“Tell you what.I’ll sell ye a horse first thing in the morning.Whatev’r yer errand, yer better off here instead o’ dead in a ditch.”
Bastion stared at Bart, weighing his options.The wisdom of the innkeeper’s words warred with the inexplicable significance of the Acari pendant hanging against his chest.
“Fine.”
“Excellent!”Bart’s lips disappeared beneath his mustache in a wide grin.“Triss here will take ye to yer room.Do ye want yer food sent up?”
Bastion took one look at the pretty blonde raking her eyes over him and said, “I’ll come back down.”
Upstairs, Triss led him to a comfortable room and passed him the key.She gave him a charming smile as she followed him inside and stoked the fire.Bastion dropped his pack on the ground with a wet thump and promptly shed his boots and cloak.Then he unbuckled his sword and threw it across the bed.
When he turned around, Triss stood with her hands clasped, the fire crackling brightly behind her.
“Can I get you anything else?”she asked sweetly.
“No.”Bastion leaned against the open door.“Thank you.”A month ago, he might have entertained the unspoken offer, but now he had no interest.
“If something comes to mind…” Triss said, her expression coy.Then she sauntered into the hall, and Bastion closed the door.
In a matter of minutes, he’d stripped and used the basin of water on the side table to sponge off.Then, he dug through his bag for his spare shirt and pants.The Acari pendant swung from his neck.He considered it as he dressed.Thinking it might draw unwanted attention, Bastion took the necklace off and shoved it deep into his bag before hunger got the better of him.
His hand paused over his sword.Leaving it would ensure he stayed anonymous.However, now that he knew Cypress Shoals had virtually no military presence, he would feel better with it at his side.
He buckled his belt, donned a new pair of wool socks and his boots, and left the room, eager to follow his nose.
