Bastion (19 page)

Amily, Bear, and Lena came down out of the caravan as soon as the steps were down, each carrying two packs. Lita took one from Lena and led the way into the inn itself while Mags and Jakyr tended to Dallen and Jermayan.

By the time that they got inside, Lita had everything sorted out. “Steam bath that way,” she said, pointing to the right. “Rooms, follow me. This is mostly the local pub, and the rooms are usually used more in spring and summer, for traveling traders and entertainers. There’s not a lot of call for them this late in the year, so since no one else is likely to turn up, we got all three. Dinner’s when we’re done with the bath, locals will be turning up after, Lena and I are singing.”

Since there seemed nothing else to say, they followed Lita. Inside, the building was built to stand for a good long time, it seemed. The floors were the same rough-hewn wood as the walls but worn smooth by the passage of many feet. The ceilings were low, and the roof had scarcely any slant at all; in that, it was much like Cole Pieters’ house, where a servant was sent up to shovel snow off the roof as soon as it fell, to prevent it building up and causing leaks. Mags hadn’t noticed, but he guessed that the roof itself was slate or wooden shingles. The walls had been plastered white, but time and smoke had turned them a deep cream. There was a very pleasant smoky scent in the air as well.

Lita took them to a plank door in the side of the common room with an iron latch and iron hinges. The rooms were all in a row, with doors leading from one to the next, rather than being on a corridor.

That made sense; if you were at all uneasy about your guests leaving without paying their due, this was the best way to keep them from doing so.

The rooms were all alike, the white-plastered walls a lighter shade of cream than the common room, barely big enough to hold a bed that could sleep as many as six and a small table with a rushlight on it. And each bed probably did sleep that many when the inn was crowded; few people coming along this road could afford a room to themselves. Whole families shared a bed, and even strangers would bed down together to share the expense.

Bear and Lena took the end room, Lita decreed that she and Amily would have the middle, and Mags and Jakyr the one that let out on the common room. Jakyr gave Mags a commiserating pat on the back but said nothing. Mags sighed, but he didn’t object, in no small part because he could not imagine Jakyr and Lita actually sharing a bed without being able to somehow erect a wall between them. And even then . . . no.

“You’ll like the steam bath,” was all Jakyr said, and he led the way to it.

There were two steam baths actually. Jakyr took the first. The steam bath was exactly what it sounded like: a room filled with hot steam, with an unheated entrance room with a barrel in it and a drain in the floor. You stripped down and went and sat on wooden seats in the main room until you couldn’t stand the heat anymore. Then you left and washed down with cold water from a barrel, then you went back in again for another round. You did this as many times as you liked—Mags only managed twice, Bear called a halt at one, but Jakyr stayed for three—then you washed off a final time, got dressed, and went back out to the common room, feeling rather like a pleasant puddle of yourself. Lita and the girls presumably took the second room, since there was no sign of them until Mags went out to the common room again.

When they were all sitting at a table in the common room, the innkeeper brought them supper: bread, a smoky barley and vegetable soup, baked leeks, and smoked meat of some sort. Mags couldn’t tell what animal it came from, only that it was so tender it fell apart, and the smoky flavor was delicious. Now he knew where the scent in the air came from; it appeared almost everything that was cooked here got at least a taste of the woodsmoke, and it was delicious. He had to wonder what their bacon was like.

There was hot cider to drink—no spices, but there was a roasted crabapple floating in each mug that had been cooked in honey.

As they were finishing their dinner, the locals started to arrive. It appeared that everyone who ordered food got the same thing that their group did, though there weren’t many of them. Mags immediately grasped the significance of the menu—smoked meat kept a good long time, and soup—well, you just kept adding to it, because as long as you kept it hot, it stayed wholesome. Nothing would be wasted, even if you got fewer customers than you had expected.

Most of the locals ordered beer or cider and roasted nuts. They settled down in groups and talked among themselves, only surreptitiously glancing at the strangers in their midst. Lita and Jakyr similarly paid them no heed, so Mags followed their example.

:It isn’t always like this. In fact, it isn’t mostly like this,:
Dallen told him.
:Usually people come up, want to know the latest news, share what’s going on locally. Even if you aren’t there on Circuit, Heralds are looked to as people who can solve problems. Evidently Jakyr was briefed on this, even though we weren’t. I can see how this sort of attitude would give a Herald some difficulty in doing his job.:

Mags considered the people around him.
:Well, these folks keep to themselves right close, I reckon. Seems like they make a virtue out of it, which ’splains why Cole Pieters could get away with what he did. Nobody was gonna get in his business unless he invited them to, and damn sure he wasn’t gonna invite ’em.:

:That makes sense,:
Dallen agreed, and then Lita caught Lena’s eye, and nodded to her. The two of them went to the rooms and came back with a small assortment of instruments: two gitterns, a flute, a hand drum, a small harp, and a fiddle. The two of them moved to stools on the hearth. Lita picked up the fiddle, Lena the drum, and they began.

The locals might have been insular, but they weren’t deaf. Conversation ceased. Table tapping began.

Here Lita showed the skill and the Gift that made her a Master Bard. Within moments, the locals had accepted her as if she was one of their own. It was without a doubt that she was the best musician they had ever heard in their lives, and Mags was certain they would be talking of this evening for years.

She chose well. Even if people didn’t know these exact melodies, they knew something
like
them.

A few lively tunes on the fiddle came first, then she and Lena switched to double gitterns, singing and playing in two-part harmony that had people listening with their mouths dropping open.

Lita played the crowd like she played her instruments. At her direction they laughed and wept, listened intently or sang along, clapped and stomped their feet or held their collective breaths. It was in every sense a masterful performance, and they knew it—instinctively if not consciously.

Mags mostly watched Lena, who in turn was so riveted by her mentor that he suspected nothing else in the room registered with her. This was, he thought, entirely as it should be. This was not just a lesson, but an object lesson. Lita was demonstrating every possible thing that Lena must conquer in order to be called a Master Bard, and Lena knew it.

Mags halfway expected Jakyr to return to their rooms long before the performance was over—after all, he had surely seen or heard performances like this many times before, and he was not on what you would call
good
terms with Bard Lita at the best of times. But he stayed, listening and watching just as intently as any of the locals, but with a completely unreadable expression on his face. Mags wondered what he was thinking, but knew he would never dare to ask.

Finally there came a pause in the music. “This will be the last song, and we thank you for your kindly listening,” said Lita, and began at once before there could be any objections voiced.

“Of all the money that e’er I had,

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm that e’er I’ve done,

Alas, it was to none but me

And all I’ve done for want of wit

To mem’ry now I can’t recall

So fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be with you all.”

Half melancholy, half celebration, Lita and Lena slowly played and sang this song that Mags had heard before, at one of Master Soren’s Midwinter celebrations. It appeared to be new to the locals, but Mags knew it was very old indeed; he’d been told it might go all the way back to the founding of the Kingdom. And as Mags happened to glance over at Jakyr, he could have sworn he saw a tear in the Herald’s eye.

But if he had, by the time the applause died down, it had been surreptitiously wiped away.

Lita and Lena strolled back to the table with their arms full of instruments, pausing frequently to say something to each of the people who stopped them to thank them for their performances. “Not bad for a greenie and a rusty old bag,” Lita said with some satisfaction when they finally got back to the others. “Not bad at all.”

“If you can repeat that at will, I’ll have no problem getting cooperation,” Jakyr said dryly. “I expect you are going to be quite useful.” Mags couldn’t tell if he was being sincere, or trying for irony—or just hoping to spark annoyance in the Bard.

Lita only raised one eyebrow at the backhanded compliment, then yawned ostentatiously. “That’s harder than driving,” she said. “I’m for bed.”

“Us too,” Bear said, as Lena and Amily nodded.

Lita headed for the rooms before Jakyr could say anything more, with the others following. Mags got up, then paused, and glanced inquiringly at Jakyr.

“I’ll just have a beer, then be along,” the Herald said, his face unreadable again.

Mags nodded. He took the side of the bed farthest from the door and left a rushlight burning.

But he was hard asleep in moments and never heard nor felt Jakyr join him.

8

T
he remaining three days were identical to the last. The sky remained threatening, the air damply cold, and yet (thank the gods) there was no inclement weather. Lita and Jakyr did verbally snipe at one another, but they confined their acerbic comments to a couple of barbs in the morning, when they all rode out, and the evening, before everyone retired. Their stays at inns were also nearly identical to the first: decent, wholesome food and drink, standoffish silence from the locals until Lita and Lena played. Then there was a kind of reticent welcome. Once they shared a room with three beds in it. Once they all had cots in a room with a dozen lined up like a common barracks.

The local folk, with the exception of the innkeepers and staff, seemed to regard them with guarded wariness, as if at any point they might all do something unsociable. It wasn’t strong enough to be called “dislike” and it certainly wasn’t overt hostility, but it was as if the locals mistrusted them. Except for Lita and Lena. Mags would have thought that this was because the two Bards were females, but they regarded Amily with the same wariness.

“At least,” Jakyr commented, when Mags ventured something about it, “thanks to the Bards, we aren’t likely to be murdered in our beds.”

“Does that happen often?” Mags asked with alarm.

Jakyr shrugged. “I have never heard of it happening to Heralds or Bards, and I picked these inns on the best recommendations, but, yes, it does happen to travelers who might not be missed. Usually traders alone, with enough goods to make them worth murdering.”

That didn’t make for an easy rest that night.

Finally, on the third day, Jakyr brought them not to an inn but to a Guardpost. Like all such Posts it was a walled compound right off the road for easy travel. Very conspicuous even at a distance, since the trees had been cleared around it to prevent possible hostiles from using trees to get in over the walls, there were three plumes of smoke arising from three substantial chimneys, one at each end of the big building and one in the middle.

Mags was very glad to see it, as the unmistakable timber walls loomed up in the distance. Finally there would be some faces that were friendly from the moment they rode up! It would be a blessed relief from the closed-in wariness of the locals. Even the scent of the chimney smoke on the air was a harbinger of comfort, part woodsmoke, part cooking food.

And so it proved. From the moment they first came within view of the walls and the sentries got sight of the Companions, the distant figures waved a welcome. The Guardsmen on duty hailed them from the top of the walls as soon as they came within shouting distance, and by the time they entered the gates around the walled compound, there were several dozen welcomers waiting for them. There were plenty of eager hands waiting to take their packs, take the caravan around to the stabling area, and see to the Companions. Here, Mags had no fears about letting someone else tend to Dallen. Guardsmen knew very well what Companions were and spoiled them like favored children. Dallen winked at his Chosen as he followed three of the uniformed Guard around back to the stables.

:Don’t eat yourself sick!:
Mags cautioned, knowing that the Guardsmen were going to press sweet things on both of the Companions, probably more than they should ever eat at one time.

:Me? Never!:
Dallen said in mock indignation, flagging his tail as he pranced out of sight.

The rest of the party was escorted to the main entrance. The building within the walls was two stories tall. All the windows could be shuttered and barred from within, and Mags knew that the shutters themselves were reinforced with metal plates, while the drop-down bars were solid steel. The exterior walls were stone, unusual in this area where most buildings were made of timber. Even the roof was of slates. Anyone who actually got into the compound would be unable to set fire to this building from the outside.