Chapter 32 #2
“That you are the dragon. And that you manipulated some of them last night.”
She took a few moments before answering.
“I always knew I’d have to tell Ruraidh and Quiddle eventually, if they stayed, considering they’re part of the long-lived.
But yes, I will tell them all. Enough is enough, and I am so tired of lying to them.
I…I expect there will be a lot of questions.
And perhaps hurt. Will you…could you be there for that? ”
“Of course I will. And…will you break the curse?” he asked.
She finished her apple before answering. “Can I—as the innkeeper, not as a dragon—remind those who come that they need not complete some quest to be considered worthy? I mean…there isn’t even a dragon residing there now anyway!”
“I suppose that’s a…fairer way to do it. With everyone on a level playing ground. No magical interference.”
“Though if they managed to find my old hoard,” Honey added, frowning, “I suppose it would be theirs for the taking. Not that I need it as much, thanks to you; the inn is finally running at a profit again, with all the new business. But I like knowing it is there—a bit of a financial cushion for a rainy day—even if it is not really my true hoard anymore. And I don’t like the thought of someone finding it and using it for selfish reasons. ”
Ainsworth grinned. “Then maybe it’s time to move some of the old hoard off the mountain.”
Honey’s eyes lit up. “Start redistributing the rest myself, instead of waiting for adventurers to find it? I’d like that—and I should have done so long ago. I just…I have no idea how to proceed.”
“I can help you work it out, if you like. I’m sure the staff can help, too—they will perhaps know of communities that need assistance,” Ainsworth replied, thinking of Fig and Fern, the work they were doing. “Or you could just give it all to Quiddle.”
Honey laughed. “All right. I will give it a try. Consider the curse broken,” she said.
When they finished lunch, Ainsworth took her hand, and they walked together like that for some time. No longer did he stumble over the mountain’s erratic scatterings of rocks and dips like those first few trips, he noticed.
“I have one final question—well, for now; I am a scholar after all—about your dragon-tampering.”
Honey cringed. “Can we please not call it ‘dragon-tampering.’ ”
“Why did you not simply dragon-tamper my dreams to drive me off the night I arrived? You weren’t exactly my biggest fan.”
She laughed. “No, but I was…curious about you. And you livened the place up. Not as much as, say, Fig and Fern. But certainly a change from what was becoming a rather-too-settled routine. I…couldn’t bring myself to send you away.”
He felt warmth spread through his chest and gave her hand a squeeze. He almost stopped himself, but pushed on, needing one last answer. “You visited me in my dreams the night before I left for Hinslyth, but you did not stop me. Did you…did you visit Enach?”
“Ah,” said Honey. “I was tempted to visit him—scare the life out of him and send him packing. I know we had discussed the situation between you two, Ainsworth, but I—I knew at the end of the day Hinslyth was your home. I did not know if you still loved him, and I felt like that was something I could not interfere with. No matter how much I wanted to,” she added quietly.
“I regretted it, in the days after you left.”
“It’s all right. I’m here now. I still made it back.”
When they were just shy of the standing stones, Honey beckoned Ainsworth to a viewpoint that she wished to share with him. They looped around the usual path and came to a section of the mountain that was almost a ledge, with a sheer drop below.
“It’s not often so clear up here. You can see the inn!” Honey exclaimed, teetering dangerously close to the edge.
Ainsworth swallowed his fear and followed her lead.
Indeed, he could see the inn—and far more, of course.
From where he stood, it seemed as though the world spilled out like water from beneath his feet.
The land rolled down, then up, then down again, and a hazy blur of green far beyond indicated the forest behind the inn.
He saw the hills behind the forest that he had traversed to get here, when he had hunted and hiked to get to the Misnich Inn as quickly as possible.
He turned to Honey suddenly. “You told me once that this mountain has a heart.”
She looked at him. “Yes,” she breathed. “Do you feel it?”
“I do,” he said, placing a hand over her heart. “It’s you.”
For a moment she looked as though she might cry, but then, for reasons he could not comprehend, they both burst into an unstoppable fit of laughter.
“What are you going to do, Ainsworth?” she asked when they finally stopped.
He wiped a tear from his eye. “I…don’t quite know, Honey.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night.
And although I— Although I agree with you, and I can see where I have gone down such a path, I…
I’m not quite ready to give up. Being a researcher, that is.
I love it. It is my life’s blood, as much as this mountain is yours. ”
“I see,” she said quietly.
“But…I think there might be ways of being a researcher other than as a Skarrow Library scholar. I do want to finish the book, but first, I’ll need some time to rethink it.
The Misnich Inn is so much more than a piece of adventuring history.
” He took a deep breath, looking out at the view in front of him.
“The Misnich Inn is a small haven of goodness, of comfort, in this kingdom. And while I cannot write about all that transpired here, I think there’s still much to tell.
I wish to write this book for you, for everyone at the inn.
It is your home, your history, your story. Not mine.”
“Well…it could be your home, your story, too. If you wanted it to be.”
“I’d very much like that,” he replied. “I’ll need some honest work to keep me going while I rethink my approach to the book—especially if the new direction does not meet Skarrow standards and they cut my funding. I do need to afford a roof over my head, you know.”
“Oh, I think I can help you out there,” she said, eyes glinting. “And if you decide, in the end, you need to stay longer—that would be fine, too.”
He felt his heart beat wildly in his chest. “I think, whatever happens, I would very much like that, too. Independent researcher has a certain ring, don’t you think?” He had a feeling that Lyria, at least, would be delighted.
“I do,” she said.
Unable to stop himself, Ainsworth reached for her and pulled her close for a kiss. He was overjoyed—and thoroughly relieved—when she returned the gesture. And she did not let him pull away before she had decided they were finished.
“Right, then,” he said when they broke apart, beaming. “I suppose I should start as I mean to go on, then. With this book of mine.”
He pulled the manuscript of his work in progress from his pack. He unwrapped it and turned to the title page.
Mount Vengeance:
A Comprehensive Account of Brave Adventurers and Local Dwellers
By Ainsworth Gladsly
He ripped up the page, and Honey gasped. “Ainsworth! What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I just need to make a change.”
He crumpled the title page in his fist, watching his dedication to Enach fold and rip, then reached for an empty sheet of folded parchment from his pack.
“What are you writing?” Honey asked, and after a moment Ainsworth turned and showed her the new title of his manuscript:
The Inn at the Foot of Mount Vengeance