Chapter 29
“Honey, please sit down. I don’t require anything else!”
“But you were traveling for so long—”
“—and I’m fine! I’m more capable than I look, you know.”
Honey rolled her eyes but admitted defeat. She sank into the chair in front of Ainsworth while the rest of the inn bustled with activity.
They had returned to the Misnich Inn some hours ago, and Ainsworth was thoroughly looking forward to savoring the meal in front of him—and the company with whom he shared it.
There had not been much time for a lengthy, private reunion when he and Honey had walked through the door, owing to the fact the Transportation Circle had indeed done its job.
The inn was as busy as Ainsworth had ever seen it.
He still could not quite believe his good fortune to have stumbled across someone like Honey. Someone who had welcomed him back so warmly, so lovingly, despite how Ainsworth had left all those weeks ago.
When he and Honey had finally untangled themselves and walked together toward the inn, Ainsworth dove straight into an explanation of how Enach had tampered with the transportation network to bar him entry.
He was unwilling to let Honey believe he had stayed away for weeks by choice a second longer than she needed to.
Honey had taken a few moments to consider his words, closing her eyes as they walked downhill, her feet never faltering.
“Despicable wretch!” she had snapped after a while.
“All the business we’ve had since that circle was set up feels tainted now.
I wonder if we should petition to remove it. ”
Ainsworth had shaken his head. “No. I was the one who applied for it, and it was paid for with a grant won in my name. It’s just as much mine as it is his. Perhaps more so. Anyway, I believe that, with a little time and effort, I can make an appeal to Skarrow and undo his meddling eventually.”
“Well, if you put it like that, then I suppose it should stay,” said Honey, reaching out for his hand to squeeze it. He squeezed back. “I just…. can’t believe you came all this way again…”
Ainsworth did not let go of her hand for the remainder of the walk.
Ashe had been waiting by the door and gave him a light punch on the shoulder when they arrived. “Knew I didn’t mistake those antlers yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you join me for the rest of the journey?”
She folded her arms. “I was still pissed at you for leaving. I didn’t even tell Honey I saw you until this morning.”
“Yes, and we’ll be having words about that!” said Honey, scowling.
Ashe ignored her. “But then I thought about it, and I realized something must have happened for you to be traveling here on foot. So…welcome back.” She held out her hand.
Ainsworth took it. “Thank you, Ashe. And I’m sorry. For before.”
Honey looked aghast. “You have nothing to apologize for! That man’s behavior is not your responsibility, nor—”
But Ainsworth wasn’t apologizing for that. Ashe looked at Honey briefly, then returned his gaze and gave a brief nod. Her grip was tight when they shook hands.
Once he was through the door, Quiddle and Ruraidh had rushed to greet him, Quiddle bounding over to embrace him and Ruraidh even giving him a quick hug before leaping away. “I knew you’d be back!” Quiddle said, beaming.
Ainsworth had thanked them, working hard to hold back tears. The warm welcome he had received put all his doubts and fears to rest, and the effect was almost dizzying.
The tavern room, to Ainsworth’s delight, was utterly rammed.
Almost every table was occupied, some with boisterous parties laughing heartily and sampling Alvea’s stew while others were more quiet and refined, sipping tea and watching the rain begin to patter against the huge windows.
One table even had a child with them—a young girl who was perched on her father’s shoulder, reaching for one of the many trails of ivy hanging down from the beams. Bren was occupied serving a dwarven party by the bar.
Their eyes met briefly, and Bren gave Ainsworth a small smile and a nod.
Alvea soon emerged from the kitchen on the rampage, looking for Quiddle to take food to tables, but when she spotted Ainsworth, she rushed to greet him with a bone-crushing hug.
“You well shot of that loser, then?” she asked while he struggled for breath.
“Y-yes!” Ainsworth had gasped, and she set him down, laughing, giving him a hearty pat on the back.
Honey was quick to tell them all what Enach had done to the circle to explain Ainsworth’s lengthy absence.
Even Spin came bustling around to see what the commotion was, then hurried away again to get Ainsworth herbs from her garden for a restorative tea.
And now Ainsworth and Honey finally had a private moment together—a moment in which, Ainsworth suddenly found, he did not know where to begin.
They both sipped their tea and watched the hubbub around them in silence, and still Ainsworth did not know what to say.
He had so much he wanted to tell her, but he’d rather talk about all that—Enach, his feelings for Honey—in…
Well, someplace more private. There was also the matter of the diary pages recounting Artan’s visit, but he had not the energy or the inclination to badger Honey with research-related questions just yet.
And he felt as though there should be more inn members present before he announced his plan to go to Mount Vengeance.
So instead, he turned to Honey and said: “Well then. What has happened since I left?”
Honey placed her cup back on the table. “I’d rather hear about what happened with you!”
After more persuading, however, Honey finally launched into an account of the inn over the past few weeks.
Guests had promptly arrived—mostly tourists, although some adventurers had arrived, too (“None of whom ended up on the mountain, by the way!” Honey added smugly).
With an abundance of people, however, came an abundance of mess—and not just the sort of mess Ruraidh had to clean up.
There had been quarreling couples and parties with leadership issues.
There had also been misadventures in love, with one guest staying for a whole week and insisting he had fallen in love with Ashe before Alvea threatened to throw him out if he did not leave her be.
There had been excitement as a performing troupe arrived and gave Honey a few nights off from singing, and there had been opportunities in abundance as some guests traded coin for interesting objects and food for something Spin had grown in the garden.
“Of course, the first few days after you left were quite somber.” Honey glanced away as she spoke.
“Oh?” Ainsworth dared to utter.
“Yes. We hated to see you go with that wretch, but we knew it wasn’t our place to stop you. Only to support you, whatever you needed. And yet you didn’t even look back.”
He was stricken at her words. “Honey, I did not look back because if I had, I would never have left. And at the time, I felt like I…had to. Leave, that is. Enach was there, and I…” He placed his face in his hands. “I let him manipulate me, make me think I had no choice but to go back to Hinslyth.”
“You did not let him do anything. He simply…did that to you, Ainsworth.”
“Well,” he said, straightening in his chair, “I left him. He hasn’t…come to check if I’m here, has he? Through the Transportation Circle?”
Honey shook her head. “No—and if he dares to show up, Ashe will send him packing. If you give the word, that is.”
“Oh, I absolutely do.”
Her grin was feral. “That’s that, then.”
When they had finished their tea, Honey helped him with his things (despite his protests) and insisted on showing him to his room. He wondered how many people he’d be sharing with, but Honey walked past the stairs and unlocked the door to the staff rooms.
“Where are we going?” Ainsworth asked.
She opened the door, picking up his trunk matter-of-factly.
“Well, you’re here to research our establishment and the surrounding area, and you’re always doing errands around the inn, too.
We all agreed, soon after you left, that if you came back we’d give you the spare room in the staff quarters.
It’s usually reserved for any friends and family that might visit, but— Well, only Spin’s niece has ever visited, and it hasn’t been used in years.
It’s all cleaned up to your standard, I promise! ”
Ainsworth stood, staring at the open door leading to the staff corridor. He could not bring himself to step forward. All that worrying about whether or not they’d be pleased to see him again…
“Ainsworth! What’s the matter?” Honey said, rushing over to him as the tears began to flow.
He stood, sobbing into his hands, and felt Honey guide him into the corridor, shutting the door behind them.
Once the busy sounds from the tavern were muffled, the alarming sound of his sniffling made him stop.
“It’s just…Thank you. Your kindness. I don’t deserve it. ”
“Well, I don’t know about that…Come on! It’s at the end, looking right onto Spin’s garden.”
The room reminded him a little of the attic the first time he saw it—not that it was cluttered or damp, rather that there was an undeniable atmosphere that suggested it had not been occupied in some time.
The walls were bare, the bedding was simple, and the curtains that hung from the iron bar atop the window were dotted with moth-eaten holes.
It was smaller than Honey’s and Ashe’s rooms (the only two staff quarters he had seen), but similar to his room back in Hinslyth.
And it was just that, he realized. His room.
A room nestled among those belonging to his dear friends—a space of safety, contentment.
He almost started sobbing again but distracted himself by asking how much the room would cost.
Honey shook her head. “I won’t take coin from you. Well, I won’t take more coin from you.”
“But it is not from me, it is from Skarrow!”