Kethril (29 page)

The inn was small but the lights from within
welcomed them. Tathan rode to the stables first and woke a
stableman sleeping in a cot just inside the door. He grumbled about
the hour until Tathan put a silver piece in his hand. The man
clutched it and took the reins while calling for a boy to help.
When the man grumbled at the wet gear and condition of the horses,
Tathan put his hand on the hilt of his sword and narrowed his eyes.
The stableman took in the gesture and Tathan’s stance. There were
no more complaints after that.

Anilyia helped Tathan grab their saddlebags
and carry them inside. She had become fit from all the traveling
and work that had to be done, so it took little effort. It had
taken her a while to decide that the muscle tone she had gained was
worth it, but only because she had to do the stupid chores whether
it was worth it or not. She missed having soft hands and skin.

A fireplace and candles on the tables lit
the inside. It was quiet except for rain pattering on the shutters,
the crackling pop of the fire and a low murmur of voices from
people at two tables. The common room smelled of wet wood, stale
beer and unwashed people. Anilyia noticed that the four men at one
table looked like travelers, possibly even bounty hunters, while
the three men at the other table were old farmers swapping lies
about their pasts.

Tathan led her to the bar where a skinny man
with thin black hair and a pockmarked face had fallen asleep. His
snores were the loudest noise in the place. Tathan hit the bar a
couple of times with the palm of his hand to get the man’s
attention. The bartender rubbed his eyes and looked around before
he saw them. “Oh, yeah. Watcha want?”

“Giffle wabble gurk ma boob,” Tathan
answered.

The bartender shook his head and rubbed his
face to get rid of the remaining sleep. “Huh?”

Anilyia sighed. “He said we need food and a
room for the night. Our horses are being cared for by your
stableman. I’d also like a bath, please.”

The bartender shook his head. “Dinner’s done
with a long time ago. It’ll be a silver for the room and a silver
for the horses. We got no baths, but you can step outside if you
want to get wet.” The farmers guffawed at the remark. The others in
the far corner chuckled in low tones.

Tathan put a hand on the hilt of his sword
and narrowed his eyes. Anilyia was angry too, but didn’t think it
was wise to let him kill everyone in the room, so she put a calming
hand on his arm. “We’ll take the room,” she told the bartender. “If
you have any bread and cheese I’d like that as well.”

“I got no bread and cheese and you’ll not
have a room until I see the silver,” the man said with a sneer.

Anilyia gripped Tathan’s arm tighter and
took two silver pieces out of a small purse Tathan had given her
for expenses. While riding that day, he had shown her how to hide
the larger purse with the gold King Cranwer had given them.

The bartender grabbed the coins off the bar,
still sneering. “Up the stairs, third door on your right. If you
want it locked, you’ll have to use your own.”

“You don’t want to lock your door, pretty
lady,” one of the men at the far corner told her. “Me and my
friends need some entertainment for the night. Your manservant can
join if you like.” The others jeered and banged their fists on the
rough table.

Anilyia paled and tried to hold on to
Tathan’s arm, but he slipped her grip and limped over to the men.
They stood as one, hands on their weapons and grins of anticipation
on their faces. The older men stood as well, backing up against the
grimy wall to avoid the violence that was about to happen. They
watched in anticipation, as did the bartender.

Tathan drew his sword and held it in front
of him. The men began to draw theirs too. Only one pulled his
entirely out of its sheath. The other three slammed theirs home and
held their empty hands out to make it clear they weren’t going to
challenge. All of them stared at the blade that drank in the light
from the candles nearby. Anilyia could swear the candles were
emitting tiny wails of agony.

Too much drink had muddled the senses of the
men. It was clear in the way they swayed. The one that had drawn
his sword all the way was in the worst shape. He didn’t attack, but
hadn’t gotten around to putting his sword away.

She didn’t know whether it was safe to use
his name, but figured the sword was a dead giveaway. “Tathan,
please don’t kill anyone else. You’re always so messy and I don’t
want to wash all that blood off again,” Anilyia whined, holding
onto his left arm.

The remaining man put his blade back in its
sheath surprisingly quick for someone without all his faculties.
All four sat down and put their palms on the table. Anilyia guessed
that it was a gesture of surrender. Tathan’s own blade slid back
into its sheath with a spine-chilling hiss. He allowed the princess
to take him up the stairs.

Tathan had a complicated lock with runes on
it, another item he had ‘acquired’ from a wizard. After lighting
the lone lantern in the room, Tathan locked the door, but also put
a trip wire attached to two tiny bells near the floor in case
anyone bypassed the lock. He put another wire across the shuttered
window in case anyone tried to come in that way.

They ate some rations to fill their bellies,
but not for taste. Tathan chewed angrily while glaring at the door.
She wondered what he would have done if she hadn’t been there. When
she moved toward the bed, he stopped her. Pulling the covers back
from the straw mattress, he pointed out numerous tiny bugs crawling
around on it. “Eww,” she exclaimed as any proper princess would.
Tathan laid out their bedrolls on the floor in the opposite
corner.

Much too early in the morning, he woke her.
She put on her clothes and gathered their things while Tathan, who
had already dressed, recovered his traps and lock before heading
downstairs. An innkeeper of average build and balding head was
tending the bar while a lone waitress took bowls of unappetizing
gruel to the patrons. The innkeeper waved them over. “I was told
you came in late last night. Didn’t expect you down so soon. There
better not be any trouble.”

Anilyia decided not to waste time being
polite after their treatment last night. “The only trouble is your
sorry excuse for an inn. I was going to order breakfast, but that
looks disgusting.” She pointed at the nearest bowl of slop. “We’ll
be leaving immediately.”

“There’s the matter of paying for the extra
grain your horses ate,” the innkeeper told them. He had a
cantankerous tone to his voice that matched his expression.

“We’re not paying anything extra, you fool.
A copper would have been too much for the room. I’m shocked the
bedbugs didn’t steal our belongings.”

“You either pay or you don’t get your
horses.” He jammed a finger down on the bar. Nearby patrons watched
with interest.

Anilyia lifted her chin and stood tall. “We
are leaving with our horses. You may attempt to stop us if you
wish, but I advise against it.” She turned and walked out of the
common room, heading outside to the stables with Tathan close
behind. The rain had become the miserable drizzle once again.

It wasn’t going to be that easy however. The
innkeeper followed them outside to where a squad of soldiers was
hanging out in the stable yard. They were different from the
soldiers in the capital. These men were unkempt and dirty. Their
tabards had stains and the chainmail showed signs of rust.

The captain spit tobacco on the ground where
it mixed in with the mud. “Is there a problem here, Innkeeper?” he
asked in a nasally voice. His eyes were shifty and his mouth
twisted in contempt for life.

“Yes, Captain Fibald! These two are trying
to leave without paying their bill. They owe a gold piece for the
extra food their horse ate and another gold for the damage they did
to the room and five more gold for threatening honest patrons last
night when they came in!” the innkeeper lied through his teeth.
Anilyia was outraged and sputtered, too angry to say anything
intelligible.

“Is that right?” the captain asked with a
malicious smile while walking up to Tathan. “Well perhaps a few
weeks in jail will teach them a lesson.”

Captain Fibald’s head flew from his neck and
Tathan’s blade dripped blood once more. It had happened faster than
anyone could react except for Anilyia. She had dashed backward,
afraid her lover would do exactly that. The soldiers froze in shock
and the innkeeper soiled himself. The only sound was that of the
captain’s head tumbling down a rivulet of water to the street
beyond.

Anilyia didn’t even have the desire to
scream that time, which was good on one hand and bad on the other,
considering that she was becoming used to gory deaths. Instead, she
went to stand in between Tathan and the guards.

“I am Princess Anilyia Ullbra of Mayncal,
under the Protection of King Turman Cranwer.” That raised some
eyebrows. She gestured to Tathan. “This is my personal bodyguard
responsible for protecting my life and purity.” The purity part was
laying it on a bit thick and if it had been true, he was doing a
terrible job. “We have diplomatic immunity in all matters by the
king’s orders.” It was probably true. “I demand our horses be
brought with gear immediately.” She folded her arms and hoped it
would be enough for the soldiers to avoid dying by Tathan’s
sword.

There was a sergeant and corporal in the
squad. They both ran at full speed to get the horses. That was good
enough for the other soldiers. Half went to help with the horses
and the other half fearfully moved to gather the captain’s body.
Tathan cleaned his sword on the body before allowing them to drag
it away. Anilyia decided to ask why he did that when he was able to
talk.

It didn’t take long at all for soldiers to
return with the horses. Tathan double-checked the buckles and
fittings on Anilyia’s horse before helping her up. Then he checked
his own and mounted.

They rode out of the stable yard while the
soldiers dragged the captain’s body in the opposite direction.
Spectators watched the macabre scene, although no one got too
close. One of the men had picked up the head and was carrying it
away from his body, trying not to make eye contact.

They settled into a trot and passed the last
houses of the village a few minutes later. Tathan didn’t say
anything, but the expression on his face was severe. Anilyia sank
into her own thoughts awhile.

She thought about being home in the warm
sunlight of Mayncal. People would feed her succulent fruit and
everyone would be sickeningly polite to her. Tathan would be naked
next to her the entire time. She sighed dreamily. He looked at her
and she smiled, reaching for his hand.

He exhaled and some of the tension left his
body. They rode side-by-side, holding hands for the next hour.
Tathan still didn’t speak, but just being next to him was fine for
the time being.

The horses were doing better from the rest,
but it wouldn’t be wise to push them. They passed the occasional
farmer or rider. Most of the time they would nod or wave, but there
was often a look of suspicion or even outright hostility.

They rode around the next village, much to
her dismay. When they passed a house where the smell of fresh baked
pie slipped through the rain to her nose, she about cried. About an
hour after they passed the house with the pie, a herd of cows was
standing in the road.

The cows were staring at them. It was
creepy. When the herd started moving toward them, Tathan and
Anilyia turned around. Then they were galloping away from a
stampede of crazed bovines. A couple minutes later, the cows slowed
down and stopped chasing. Tathan and Anilyia slipped off the road
into a small wooded area.

They traveled through the woods for the next
half hour before making their way back to the road. The cows were
gone, but Tathan and Anilyia kept an alert eye on others they
passed after that. She considered herself
very
tolerant to
deal with mad cows along with everything else.

When they hadn’t reached another village by
dinner, Anilyia’s morale took a complete dive. She was weary from
all of it: the danger, the killing, the rain, the hostility, the
lack of a bath, the antagonistic cows . . . A part of her just
wanted to get off the horse and cry.

“Tooby ooby walla nooby abba nabba,” Tathan
said, pointing at a side road. She looked closer and saw what
looked to be a wagon stuck in the mud. The horse that was supposed
to be pulling it lay on its side and two men were standing next to
it with hands on hips and heads bowed.

Tathan turned onto the path. Looks of
concern crossed the men’s faces. The older of the two stood in
front of the younger and both had hands on the hilts of daggers.
Anilyia wondered how people could be so hard and fearful in the
rural areas of the kingdom when, by all indications, King Cranwer
was running a successful, rich kingdom.

She could see that they were father and son.
Both had dirty blonde hair and wore sturdy, but plain clothes. The
father looked to be in his thirties while his son was in his late
teens. Anilyia supposed they were handsome enough for peasants.
Sometimes she thought about what it might be like to be a farmer’s
wife and always concluded that it would be dreadful.

“We don’t have valuables worth stealing and
our horse died, so . . . that’s not worth anything.” The older man
gestured toward the horse. Tathan looked to Anilyia to speak for
them.

“We’re not thieves . . . well . . . he is,”
she said, motioning at Tathan. “But . . . well . . . we’re not
going to steal anything . . . are we?” she asked Tathan. She hoped
not. While she didn’t like peasants, she didn’t wish them to
suffer. Happy peasants were always better than miserable ones.