Chapter 13 Neirin #2
Pushing through the flock, I made my way to a door at the back of the building and tested the handle.
I cracked the door and held my breath. Nearby, coals popped, filling the room with warmth and the scent of burning cedar.
Taking a chance, I stepped inside, nearly tripping over a speckled red rooster as it passed by my feet and into the room.
It clucked and fled under a table. I cursed, closing the door to stop any more of the hapless creatures from following.
Kneeling to assess the dull-minded animal, I glared. Its body pressed against a small crate of wine. Dark eyes blinked beneath a sideways-flopped crown, and it ruffled its feathers. It was not of my concern—securing clothes was my priority. And coin if I were fruitful in my search.
I stood and took in my surroundings. The room was equipped with ample storage cabinets and, at the far wall, barrels and crates.
The crackling fire came from a cooking hearth.
Through a split door with the bottom portion left ajar, voices carried from another room.
Based on the size of the building, the large kitchen, and the hum of chatter, I suspected I was in an inn.
It could have been a pleasure house, but only in Valio and the capital were such places so sizable.
An inn was most likely. And, at an inn, I may find a huntsman.
I took a step, and the flooring creaked as one of the wooden boards gave under my weight. The rooster beneath the table squawked at the sound, and in a ruffle of feathers fled through the gap in the split door. I gritted my teeth as the voices in the other room quieted momentarily.
Steps sounded, followed by a commotion of furniture being pushed across the floor, and glass breaking, paired with the curses of a woman. The rooster’s clucks cut off sharply with the unmistakable snap of a wrung neck. I sucked in a breath.
The lower section of the split door closed, and a latch slid into place; then the two portions opened together as one. A woman stood in the narrowly opened doorway, her hazel eyes sharp. The spotted rooster hung lifeless in her grip.
Her hair was a deep brown, pulled up into a braided bun atop her head.
Fine lines at the creases of her eyes told me she was likely in her early forties.
Dark brows turned in, and her lips formed a thin line.
The woman exuded a steadfast boldness, yet to my surprise, she made no motion to beckon for the men in the other room.
When one called out, she dismissed him over her shoulder.
I suspected there were at least three others by the varying range in tones I heard during the scuffle, but they were out of view.
Retreating through the back door was the logical solution, but the curiosity of the woman’s unusual demeanor and the hopes that I may somehow turn the situation to my favor held me in place.
Setting the rooster down on a counter, the woman drew nearer until only the waist-high table divided us.
She scanned my body unabashedly. The hunger in her eyes put me on edge, and I shifted my weight.
There was a forwardness to her, and despite her being twice my age, I was coming to suspect the reason she hadn’t called the others in after me.
Though comfortable in my own skin, I was suddenly grateful for the tabletop between us that concealed my nakedness.
With a considering hum, the woman knelt and her head lowered beneath the tabletop. Or not. I sucked in a breath. Glass clanked, and she rose again with a bottle of wine and popped the cork. The upturn of her lips was approving and heady. Was she intoxicated? Could I swindle her?
The woman took a long draw of the wine, then licked the tinted drink from her upper lip. I worried my brows, considering the best way to handle her. Deception was not a strength of mine, not as it was for Rion or Astraea.
She offered the bottle, speaking with a voice youthful for her age, sharp with wit that lent me to believe she was only lascivious and not drunk. “I suspect you could use a drink.”
Eyes narrowed with suspicion, I took the bottle from her and, addressing her over the rim, took a draw. The wine was sweet and light and held very little taste of alcohol. The lack of a label told me that the drink was inexpensive, its source not worth noting.
“What is your name?” the woman asked, leaning forward to rest on her elbows.
The position pushed her breasts together, and the swoop of her neckline made them impossible not to notice.
I allowed my eyes to linger a moment. Could I seduce her?
To be taken to her room would likely give me the opportunity for clothing and coin, but I disliked the concept of taking advantage of a woman in such a way.
Even if I did not lie with her—could not, for despite the events at the festival, my cock still did not stir—I couldn’t bring myself to whoring my body for monetary gain. I placed the bottle on the table.
“Lark,” I lied. With the festival at an end and musicians, crafters, farmers, and all manner of travelers moving south, word of the King’s death would spread like wildfire. Unless it was kept veiled from the public. Regardless, discretion was the best course of action.
“I’m Maerel, and this is my inn.” She offered her hand, and I shook it. Her grip was firm, as were her eyes. “Lark … is that a family name?”
I nodded. “Hadrian Lark. I’m a routier. Your inn?” Women couldn’t own property.
“The Halfway Inn,” she answered, a challenge in her eyes.
The name was unfamiliar. Not a place I’d stayed many times then, at least. Halfway. Perhaps I’d found myself in Elrune, the midpoint between the capital and Literra. “Because Elrune is the halfway mark from the castle to the port?”
She snorted. “Among other reasons, yes.”
I narrowed my brows, not following. The innkeeper picked up the bottle and handed it over. “I enjoy a play on words.” She sucked in her lips and leaned over the table, her attention going pointedly below my waist. “Though with you, half might be all I could take anyway.”
“Half—” I cut myself off, catching her innuendo. I drew a sharp breath and released it. “I am in need of clothing.”
Without skipping a beat, Maerel grinned. “It would appear you are, and I am now in need of a cock.” When I spluttered on the wine, she laughed, and I met her gaze with a sharp expression. She gestured with her chin to the dead rooster on the counter behind her. “I only had the one.”
“Then you shouldn’t have wrung its neck,” I retorted.
Sharpness was not the answer, so despite my irritation, I drew a calming breath.
If I did not aim to seduce the woman, perhaps I could play at vulnerability or offer compensation.
“If you have clothing to spare, I would be grateful. I can send coin to you when I return to my stead.” If I survived long enough to do so.
If the castle remained under Harlan’s rule. I swallowed.
“I didn’t wring its neck,” she countered.
Addressing me with her gaze, she released a sigh.
“Very well. Stay here and I’ll get you some clothes.
” Maerel made for the stairs near the back of the room.
“There’s nothing worth stealing in here, and if you try, I will call for the soldiers in the front room,” she said with her back to me.
While I waited, I took another drink of the wine. In the other room, a man roared with laughter.
“Why haven’t you called those men in after me?
” I asked when Maerel returned a few minutes later with a stack of folded clothes and a pair of boots.
I knew such a question may give me insight into her intentions.
Skirting the table, she came to stand directly before me.
I raised my chin and took the clothing from her.
“It’s not every day a handsome young man shows up naked in my kitchen. Maybe if I keep you around a while, you’ll warm to me.”
I grunted and drew an off-white cotton shirt from the pile, then stepped into the pants. Acquire clothing and coin, then get word to Harlan. Whatever it takes.
Maerel leaned against the table. “Do they fit alright? They were my husband’s.”
“They fit.”
“Good. Now I believe you owe me some answers. Why are you naked in my kitchen?”
I balanced on one foot, sliding on a cotton sock, then trying a boot. It was a bit tight, but would suffice. “I was with a woman. When I woke, my clothes and coin were gone.” The simpler a lie, the closer it was to the truth, and the less likely I was to stumble over it.
“So, you came to steal clothes?” Maerel deduced. Blunt but fair.
“What option did I have?”
Brushing past my question, the innkeeper pressed on. “What is her name? The woman you were with?”
“That’s not something for me to share,” I grunted, forcing my other foot into the too-snug boot.
“Didn’t think to ask?” Maerel raised a brow.
Again, I had to force down the sting of irritation. “She chose not to tell me.”
The innkeeper’s eyes were knowing, and her expression softened. “That bothers you.”
It did. I set my jaw. This wasn’t about the woman; it was about my duty to my brother, to do whatever it took to protect him and unravel the threat within the castle walls.
The last article of clothing was a worn cloak; its dark fabric was coarse between my fingers.
It would give some concealment, at least, but I would need to crop my hair short or tie it back with a cord to keep the wind from stirring it out of the hood.
I drew it over my head, and Maerel stepped to me.
With a familiar comfort that was out of place, she adjusted the clasp. “You’re young to have gray hair.”
“I am,” I dismissed. “I will send coin for the clothing. And the rooster. Within a fortnight. I am grateful for your assistance.”
“You speak with too much formality for a man who was standing naked before me only moments ago.”
Unsure how to reply or how to dismiss myself after the first attempt was rebuked, I took another drink of the wine to cover my discomfort.
Where would I acquire coin? An unsettling dread clamped down on me.
“I’ve found in my profession that being well spoken lends me to greater positions.
Now, unless you have work for me, I must be on my way. ”
The corner of her lips quirked up. “The days following the festival of Ayrenven bring many travelers and ruffians through my inn.”
“You require protection?” It was too easy; a trickle of guilt edged at my conscience. To fake being a routier, however, was not far off from my training. “For board and coin, I can keep the drunkards from causing problems for your establishment.”
The innkeeper stepped toward me and raised her chin, a cunning smile lighting her face. “There are other services I may require as well.”
I firmed my jaw.
“Such as tending the bar.” She tapped her index finger at my chest. “Helping me turn down the rooms, and there’s a delivery due tomorrow of necessities that will need to be brought in and sorted.”
“These are not jobs for a routier—they are jobs for a—” I had been about to say commoner, but cut myself off, finding different words. “For a lesser-trained man.”
She narrowed her eyes. “As I see it, you are in my debt.” The woman rocked back on her heels and turned to lean against the table again.
“Now, I have no reason to believe you will send coin, as you say you will. So you will stay, work the tasks I give you, and maybe, if I am fortunate,”—she winked—“you will warm to me.”
I exhaled through my nose. “I will aid with your tasks until my next job takes me away from Elrune.” She was offering me what I required, yet the mischievous look in her eyes caused me to hesitate, as if the idea was not truly my own, but hers.
The look she bore was that of one who was used to getting precisely what they wanted out of an arrangement.
“And what of the woman you were with?”
The innkeeper’s words held me. “What of her?”
“She is here in Elrune, is she not?” Maerel raised a brow.
Through the hazed memories of my time spent in my other form, I recalled the woman’s scent in the wagon.
If it stopped here, it was likely she was still in town, whether she lived here or not.
And, if she were only traveling through, she would be staying at the village’s inn.
My heart set to racing. No. I cannot become distracted from my purpose.
Maerel cocked her head with feigned innocence, eyes sharp as if she were watching me put the pieces together. “So you’re welcome. For the clothes and for the room.” She left me and paced to the split doors. “You can start with plucking the rooster. You do know how to ready a cock, don’t you?”
I bit back a retort, and the corners of her lips quirked up.
“In all seriousness, I don’t want you to make a mess of it.”
“I know how to de-feather a bird,” I answered through my teeth.
“Good.” She unhinged the latch at the door, closing the bottom portion and leaving the top open. “Gut it too, if you know how.” Then she left.
Growling, I paced to the countertop and grabbed the limp bird.
I took a long drink from the wine bottle and began plucking.
The mildly violent manner of the task was therapeutic.
I mumbled, cursing my situation. I was tense with the inability to do anything for Harlan but bide my time, wait out the huntsman, and hope that my message would get to my brother discreetly and without interception.
And then what? What if Harlan chose not to believe me?
Or if I was too late? Clenching my jaw to restrain the emotions tugging at me, I stopped my task and rubbed the back of my neck.
I took another drink from the bottle, and the lifeless black eyes of the rooster stared back at me. For now, at least, the mindless work and cheap wine would quell my dolor. Then, in working the bar, I would acquire information on a trustworthy huntsman.
One task at a time.