Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3 (6 page)

“We will find an inn that suits us,” said Doms, gesturing to Ninianee to follow him as he set off through the tents and down the long avenue that cut straight – southeast to northwest – through the rows of wooden houses that marked the center of Jampersi-Ayo, The avenue ended not at another gate, but at the edge of a cliff where a wooden structure extended over the gorge. “Those who deal unfairly are shoved off the platform there, into the river below, or so they claim. I’ve never seen it happen, but everyone says it does, from time to time,” he explained to Ninianee as they went down the street.

“What is that stone building on the far side of the canyon?” Ninianee asked, staring along the line he was pointing.

Doms squinted. “I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing it before,” he said thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t look new,” she remarked.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, then took stock of how far they had come along the avenue, attempting to decide where it would be best to look for their accommodations. “Let’s try the next street over.”

Ninianee continued to stare at the distant stone building. “It’s pretty large, don’t you think?”

“It’s imposing,” he agreed and started his pony moving; Ninianee followed after him.

“I don’t like the look of it,” she said distantly. “Don’t you think it’s prison-like?”

Before he could answer he turned into a courtyard that fronted the main street. “This is The Ancient Song. It’s one of the better inns. I’ve stayed here before, some years back.” It had been more than a decade since he and his escort took rooms here, on his first visit to this town. He had been fifteen at the time, on his first serious journey, and Jampersi-Ayo had seemed excitingly remote. The second time he came here, a bit more than three years ago, he had been a traveling troubadour and juggler, and he had stayed in the tavern where he performed, at Jampersi-Ayo’s east gate. “It’s as comfortable a place as any in this town, and the landlord is a reliable fellow. Maybe he can tell us about that building on the other side of the gorge.” He looked around, noticing the heavy shutters on the windows and the new planks on the inn-yard door, suggesting the inn had had some harsh times after his last stay. “Let the ostlers have your pony and mule, Ninianee. They’ll tend to them well enough. I’ll arrange for rooms for us.” He made no attempt to help her dismount, knowing she would be slighted by such a gesture.

“That would be welcome.” Ninianee felt a shudder pass through her as she swung out of the saddle, and she almost slipped as she put her right foot on the ground. She didn’t understand the cause, but she could feel Jenshaz stiffen, head coming up, ears half-back. Behind her Danliree bared her teeth, huffing her disapproval. Now that she was in this town, she wasn’t at all sure it was a safe place to be. She went to Danliree and took her small magical kit from the mule’s pack-saddle, removing a vial from it and dropping a little ympara-oil on the mule, then on her pony before she followed Doms into the reception room.

The landlord who came to the reception-counter to greet them was a man not much older than Doms, already becoming portly, with jowls drooping from his chin. His face was impassive as he made his minimal respect. “The Ancient Song welcomes all peaceful travelers,” he said by rote.

Doms looked around. “Where is Silaj Ozhadin?”

The landlord coughed. “My uncle died almost three years ago. I am Amiroz Tuleraj and this is my inn now.”

“My condolences on the loss of your uncle. I was most impressed with him when I stayed here some years back. He was the compleat innkeeper, from how he tended his guests to the quality of food and drink he served. I remember him with cordial regard.” Doms respected the landlord. “He made me and my entourage most comfortable.”

“Entourage.” He looked Doms over critically, making no attempt to disguise his doubts of the newcomers. “Very good of you to remember him, I’m sure,” said Tuleraj, sounding indifferent. He waited, then asked, “How long a stay will you make? The town is very dull in winter.”

“Three nights at most. If the weather remains good, we’ll leave after two nights,” said Doms.

“‘We’ means the two of you?” Tuleraj saw Doms and Ninianee nod. “Who might you be?”

“I am Doms Guyon, Yaolaj of the Drowned World. My companion is Ninianee, Duzeon of Vildecaz.”

Tuleraj laughed out loud. “Of course you are – a Duzeon and a Yaolaj traveling alone with nothing more than a mule and a pony apiece. I’ve been at this game too long to believe you.” He laughed without merriment. “And you wonder why innkeepers become cynical – while you are the cause,” he said, making a gesture of scorn. “An honor to entertain such noble personages, I’m sure.” Sarcasm thickened his voice.

“If that is your attitude, you needn’t bother with our custom,” said Doms, preparing to leave. “We’ll find another hostelry.”

“Wait,” said Tuleraj, reconsidering his jeering. “If you claim you’re nobility, who am I to contradict you? High-born travelers often disguise themselves to keep from being robbed. But then, so do thieves.” He signaled Doms to come back to the counter. “I will order my best suite for you, Yaolaj. And you may pay me for it in advance.”

“You think you won’t get paid otherwise?” Ninianee asked sharply.

“It has happened before,” said Tuleraj with a hostile shrug. “Better to be paid ahead, just in case.”

Doms reached into his wallet and drew out four damzejes. “Will this cover the price of the suite for three nights?” He dropped the gold coins one at a time onto the counter.

Tuleraj’s eyes widened, and for the first time, he wondered if Doms’ outlandish claims might have some truth to them. He gathered his wits and said, “Meals would be extra.”

“I have gaylings enough for meals, and for keep for our animals,” said Ninianee. She had spent almost half of the gaylings she had brought with her, and this was causing her some anxiety.

“Then this is more than sufficient. I’ll even offer you a bushel of grain for your animals when you depart. In winter, you’ll need it.”

Doms glanced at Ninianee. “Will that suit you, Duzeon? The best suite in the inn
for us to share?”

“Since you are my Official Suitor, Yaolaj, nothing else would suit me so well,” she said, sensing that this was not the time to disagree with him. She reminded herself that they had spent enough time together that their sleeping arrangements should no longer be an issue. More than that, she was sufficiently unnerved by this place that she didn’t want to be alone while they stayed here. She determined to keep this last to herself.

“The bargain is struck,” said Tuleraj, pocketing the damzejes before Doms could change his mind. “This will pay for three nights in the best suite, with meals paid separately.”

“And a bushel of grain when we leave,” Doms added.

Tuleraj managed a sour smile. “And a bushel of grain when you leave. You’ll need something more for your animals, but we’ll arrange that later.” He produced a key and a spell-chain. “This will open the door to the suite. It’s up at the end of the corridor one flight up. On the left,” he added.

“Is there a porter to bring up our cases from the stable?” Ninianee asked, her whole attention on the landlord.

“There are two. They’ll attend to it in half an hour.” Tuleraj glared. “Dinner is the hour before sunset. You can arrange your meal for a later hour, for a minimal charge. If you want a meal in your suite, it’s four gaylings extra for breakfast, five for dinner.”

“Tonight we’ll dine with the rest of the guests in the public dining room,” said Doms. “We want to hear the latest from the northern road, and we can’t do that alone in the suite.”

“As you wish,” said Tuleraj, looking as if the gaylings had been snatched out of his hand.

Ninianee accepted Doms’ respect as he stood aside to allow her to precede her up the stairs. As she climbed, she wondered what it was about this place that so unnerved her – nothing suggested itself. The walls were of good-quality wood somewhat darkened with age, the tapestries hanging in the upper corridor depicted the Six Founder Gods and Goddesses with their attributes. The place smelled clean enough, and there was no hint of residual spells in the air, although there was a kind of prickle from a source Ninianee couldn’t name. She stopped in front of the door the landlord had described while Doms worked the key and spell-chain, and the door
clicked open, revealing a sitting room with a two chairs upholstered in drugh-ox wool, a square guest-table set with four oil-lamps, and an upholstered bench near the fireplace. A second room stood open on the far side of this chamber, a faint light glowing within it from an open shutter that let in the wan afternoon cloud-filtered sunshine.

“It looks well enough,” said Doms, stepping through the door.

Again Ninianee felt the uncanny shudder that had taken hold of her out in the inn-yard. “It bothers me,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Bothers you? Why?” Doms closed the door so that they wouldn’t be overheard. “If you would prefer to go elsewhere – ”

”No. I don’t think it would make any difference,” she said, thinking that she didn’t want to trouble him, not at this stage of their travel. “The whole town has an air about it, I fear.”

“Jampersi-Ayo has an odd reputation among magicians – something about how it’s situated; energetic lines pass through it, apparently. It’s said that peculiar things happen here, that spells attach to travelers, although I’ve never experienced any such manifestation.” He set down the case he carried on a strap over his shoulder. “You’re more sensitive than I to such things, I suspect. Talents like yours often are aligned with other sensitivities.”

“I don’t know what’s causing it,” she said, too edgy to banter with him. “But I can’t help feeling this . . . this bizarre shudder.”

“Then there must be a reason you respond to it,” said Doms. “I’ll set a watch-spell on the room, just in case we have trouble.” He pressed his hands together, fingers steepled. “The two times I’ve been here before it was summer and the whole town was alive with traveling merchants. Every inn was full. The taproom here was crowded with men and women from the north of Theninzalk. Others came from Haverartbow and Pomig. What you saw in the square just now was a pittance of a market compared to the summer.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked.

“It does, and I don’t know why. Many markets in the north close entirely for winter – Jampersi-Ayo remains open, and has been open since the stockade went up. It is a most diverse place in summer, not at all like it is now. You will see men and women from all of the Great World in these streets, in summer,” he told her, coming to her side and putting his arm around her. “If you think we shouldn’t remain here, tell
me, and I’ll tell the landlord we’ve changed our minds.”

It was tempting to accept his offer, but she resolutely shook her head. “The other inns are probably much like this one, and that means that we would trade one uneasiness for another. As you say, the town itself is strange. At least the room is clean and nothing smells musty.”

“Then let me recommend you have a little rest. I’ll see if we can arrange for baths.” Doms made a quirky smile and came over to her again. “I suppose I should take along some gaylings, in case there are other charges. I’m fairly sure the baths won’t be free. I only hope our landlord won’t demand another damzej for the heating of the bath-house.”

Ninianee actually laughed. “It wouldn’t surprise me if this landlord wanted at least a damzej for a bath. He’d charge to tell us about the stone building across the canyon. We’ll find out what that place is from someone else.” She went to open her sack of gaylings and handed him about thirty of them. Next she unfastened the lacings on her sajah and tossed it onto one of the upholstered benches. Her apparent comfort fooled neither of them, and she made no attempt to hide the jolt of trembling that went through her.

“Another shudder?” He thought about this. “I’ll make sure we have protection around the room – at the doors and windows. That should stop the shudders.”

“I hope so,” she said, clutching her elbows with her cold, gloved hands.

He studied the fireplace. “At least we have real logs and not magical flames.”

“That should keep the bath warm for a goodly time, if it, too, burns wood,” she said, rubbing her hands on the arms of her pelgar to hide her shivering.

“This is a wooden town,” Doms pointed out. “They needn’t resort to magic to keep warm.”

“Well, the sooner you arrange for the baths to be heated, the sooner we’ll be warm.” She bent to light the fire. “The room will be less chilly when you come back. That should help.”

“As you say,” he said, offering her a respect as he left the suite of rooms.

The fire took hold quickly, a testament to the dryness of the logs. The snap and chuckle of the flames were strangely comforting to Ninianee. She lit the lamp on the mantlepiece and had a better look at the room. The chairs were better than she had supposed on first glance, and the upholstery on the benches was new. She picked up the lamp and went into the bedroom, going to the window to close the shutter so that
the heat from the fire in the other room would not be lost. Turning, she looked first at the sturdy wooden wardrobe, then at the bed, a high, broad piece of furniture that was large enough to accommodate more than four people. There were silk-stuffed blankets and a coverlet of kazelej-wool worked in a pattern of wreaths. The six pillows were plump and covered in Mozh-cloth the color of summer berries. The hangings around the bed were elegantly embroidered. It was all so pleasant that she was taken aback when yet another shudder gripped her. She hurried back into the sitting-room to take advantage of the warmth of the fire. She was still huddled next to the hearth when Doms returned, her sajah spread over her knees.