Diablo 3: The Reaper of Souls (18 page)

"Interesting," she said. She scraped at another troublesome stain with her fingernail, then jerked her hand away as though it had been burned, muttering to herself. She pushed down hard on that spot with a dry section of the cloth.

Reiter watched her closely. She wasn't smiling anymore. He changed the subject. "If you've been walking around for a while, you could probably use a hot bath. We have plenty of tubs in the back, and I can heat some water for you. If you'd like."

"Maybe later," she said.

"It would be no trouble," he insisted, and then said, casually, "I wouldn't even mind joining you."

The apprentice set down the cloth and fixed Reiter with a glare. "Excuse me?" she said.

Reiter felt heat rush into his face. Desperately he racked his brain for an explanation. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot some people don't consider that modest. It's not unusual here in the desert. Helps to have someone else help clean the sand out of hard-to-reach places." It only made things worse. The silence, once again, stretched...

"Here," he said, suddenly reaching for the cloth. "Let me help with that." He quickly dipped it into the water. His hand brushed her hair, and he felt a thrill run up his arm. Without hesitation, he placed the rag against the armor and began scrubbing.

The apprentice gasped. "Wait—"

When Reiter touched the wet cloth to the stain, everything seemed to happen at once. The apprentice yelled. The bowl of water flipped. The table underneath the bowl flipped. Smoke, vile smoke, smelling of sulfur and festering blood, filled the air. Reiter screamed and tumbled out of his chair. The apprentice took the chestplate and flung it out the door in one smooth motion. It arced over the balcony, into the sandstorm.

Just before Reiter landed on the floor, he saw a ball of green flame rapidly expanding over the chestplate, disappearing in a flash. Just after Reiter landed on the floor, the table fell on top of him, pinning him down, knocking the wind out of him.

Yelling, crying, Reiter struggled to push the table away. Strong arms pulled the weight off his chest. Anajinn, the crusader, stared down at him with concern.

Reiter's father stumbled into the common room, wide eyed. "What happened?"

"Excellent question," Anajinn said. The crusader turned her gaze from Reiter, to the chestplate lying outside in the sandstorm, to the apprentice. To the last, she gave a hard look.

To everyone's shock, the apprentice began laughing. Sobs of pure mirth shook her body, and she had to sit down to keep from collapsing on the floor. Reiter's father looked outraged. "What in the name of Akarat happened to my son?"

The apprentice wiped away tears and said exactly what Reiter hoped she wouldn't. "He offered to bathe with me. And then he tried to help clean the armor to apologize for it." More peals of laughter filled the common room. "I'm sorry, Anajinn. I wasn't expecting him to put water onto dried demon's blood."

"He did what?" Reiter's father's eyes darted between his son and Anajinn. Reiter shrank back. "Dried what?"

Anajinn was still looking at her apprentice. "Truly?" she asked. The apprentice stifled her laughter long enough to nod. "How much?" The apprentice made a gesture with her fingers the size of a large flea. "Good." Anajinn breathed a sigh of relief. "So no harm should have been done."

Reiter's father seemed caught between concern, anger, and fear. "What harm? What did my son do?"

"Nothing terrible, as it turns out," Anajinn said. "Do caravans heading to Caldeum sometimes disappear? Yes? I don't think they'll be having problems for at least a few years. Just before the sandstorm hit, we encountered a... nest. These creatures in particular don't enjoy the presence of water. For obvious reasons. The desert made for a happy home." Frowning, she picked up another piece of her armor, a leg guard, and examined it closely. "I had thought we cleaned off everything dangerous, but it's hard to be thorough when you're blinded by sand for three straight days." She bowed toward Reiter's father. "I humbly beg your forgiveness. Even if the danger was slight, the oversight was mine."

Reiter saw his father's mouth moving soundlessly. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I... see. No harm done. I also apologize. For the behavior of my son," he said, glaring down at Reiter.

"Oh, no apologies are necessary," Anajinn said immediately. "If my apprentice is taking a shine toward your son, it's fine with me."

The apprentice sighed. "That's not—"

"No need to explain," Anajinn interrupted her, grinning openly. "Young love. So beautiful. Flowers blooming in spring. Desert roses and such. You know, there's nothing in the crusaders' oath that prevents you from—"

"My oath? No," the apprentice grumbled. "My sense of good taste? Yes."

The uproarious laughter of his father chased Reiter back into the inn's main storeroom. He made it his personal mission to avoid the two women for the rest of their stay, which lasted about a week.

He was mostly successful. At one point, the apprentice sought him out and attempted to apologize for her last remark.

"Anajinn's sense of humor is rubbing off on me. We can be... biting... toward each other from time to time, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry for what I said."

Reiter mumbled and waved her off. She and her master seemed crazy anyway. Demon's blood. He shook his head. That must have been a lie. Unreasonable to think otherwise.

"Strange woman," Reiter's father remarked after they left. "Bett'n she has salt, though. Called herself a crusader. Interesting story. She's from the swamplands. Came ovah to the desert to search for some religious thing, I guess. Yeh should've asked her about it. Fast-natin' stuff."

"I suppose so," Reiter said.

"Make sure to sweep," Reiter's father said weakly. A coughing fit shook his frail body. He clasped both hands over his mouth, but Reiter could still see phlegm leaking through the gaps between his bony fingers. "Inn... clean..."

"I will, Father. Finish your soup," Reiter said.

"Can't... don't like the taste..."

"Bea made it especially for you this morning," Reiter said with more patience than he felt. "You need your strength. Finish it all."

He closed the door firmly and went back to the common room. The midday meal had been served hours earlier, and there were only three customers left at the tables: the two tired merchants, discussing the prices of Westmarch wine, and the religious fellow, quietly paging through a thick book. Reiter walked behind the counter. His wife was sharpening one of the cooking knives.

"Would you mind taking my father some more tea?" Reiter asked. "He's not doing well today."

"Spare a little honey for him?" Bea asked with a sympathetic look.

Reiter sighed. Honey had grown expensive over the past few months. The merchant from Tristram was late. Reiter hoped he would be back by next week, but if he wasn't, the Oasis Inn would run out soon.

"I don't think so." At her disapproving glare, he quickly added, "If we don't have enough honey, our customers will be unhappy and our reputation might suffer. My father wouldn't want that." Bea's expression grew darker. "I'm sure he would tell you himself to skip the honey if he knew the situation. This inn is everything to him. It's his legacy." Reiter fidgeted for a moment, then held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Give him the honey. A little bit."

If anything, her glare grew even more heated, but she made the tea—with a generous dollop of honey—and disappeared up the staircase.

Reiter sighed again. Even though he had given in, he was sure she would bring it up later. She seemed to delight in making him feel low for no reason.

The door of the inn swung open. Footsteps echoed through the common room. Reiter let his gaze linger on the staircase a moment longer and then began his welcome speech. "Welcome to the Oasis Inn, good sir. Can I help you?"

"'Good sir'? At least that's better than 'madam,'" an amused female voice said.

Reiter turned. The new visitor was clad in heavy armor, the same heavy armor he had seen maybe eight or nine years ago. Helm, chestplate, shield, flail, white tabard embroidered with a Zakarum symbol—it was her. His mouth fell open.

The crusader? "I... my apologies, madam," he said without thinking.

She chuckled easily. "'Madam.' My name is simply Anajinn."

"My apologies... Anajinn," Reiter said. Had that been her name? She looked different than he remembered. Her hair was lighter and longer, her jaw more defined, her nose a bit smaller. Strangely, she also seemed younger.

He could feel the stares from the others in the common room. It was a little comforting to know he wasn't the only one intimidated by her appearance. "Do you need a room? Is your apprentice staying with you?" Apprentice. His stomach clenched. Images of a flipped table and a troublesome stain surfaced in his mind. Embarrassment welled up, and he banished the memory quickly.

"I'll only need a room for one. I have not yet found an apprentice," she said. "I would also like to revisit your library."

Reiter led her out of the common room, toward the library. "Certainly. We have the finest library in..." He trailed off with a frown. Not yet found an apprentice? Anajinn had one when she last visited. Then again, Reiter seemed to be remembering the entire ordeal incorrectly. He dismissed the thought. "Finest library in Kehjistan. Outside of Caldeum, of course."

Anajinn kept pace with him, armor clanking heavily with each step. "I've been to nearly three dozen outposts around this desert, and I believe you and your father are right," she said. "You do have the largest library I've ever encountered outside of a big city. In fact, I've never seen its like in a town like this."

"My father's idea," Reiter said. "Caldeum's Rest is small, but almost everyone heading to and from Caldeum along the southern route stops here. The oasis, you see. Last chance for water before you cross the nasty part of the desert. My father noticed that there were plenty of academics and scholars and religious pilgrims who didn't want to stay at the tavern down the road, so he created something inviting for them." A waste of time and effort, Reiter didn't add. There was far more coin to be made in wine and spirits than in providing a quiet study room for destitute students. "He let merchants know he was willing to buy any books they had."

"Your father. He is well?"

"He is dying," Reiter said.

Anajinn inclined her head in sympathy. "Is there something I can do to help? Can I see him?"

"He isn't lucid these days. I wouldn't want to upset him with any old memories."

Anajinn looked at him for a moment. "As you say." The library door was just ahead. "Are many of the books new since I last visited?"

"I think so," Reiter said. He hadn't read any of them himself. He held the door open. "Here we are."

"Thank you," she said.

As she stepped back, a bit of her hair brushed Reiter's hand. A bit of her blond hair, he realized. It all rushed back to him in an instant—the master, the brown hair, the name.

"You... you're not Anajinn. You're the apprentice!"

He got a wry smile in return. "Not anymore," she said.

"But... the armor... You said your name was Anajinn!"

"That is my name," the woman said.

Reiter's confusion turned to anger. It felt as if she was having a laugh at his expense. Again. "That was your master's name!"

"And it is my name." She still smiled. "Is it really so strange?"

"You—!" Reiter lowered his voice. "You talk like you are her," he hissed. "Were you trying to trick me? Didn't you embarrass me enough last time?"

"I meant no disrespect. I am a crusader. I am Anajinn," she said. "As my master was. As her master was before."