“Yeah,” agreed Chad. “We’re the only ones foolish enough to be out in this.”
Leading the way, Bart took them to the nearest three story building which had to be an inn. There was no sign out front, but the fact that it was an inn was unmistakable. As they neared the front of the inn and were dismounting to go inside, a voice said, “You don’t want to stay there.” Turning, they saw a man of about twenty years approaching them from across the street.
“Why not?” asked Riyan.
“They have a flea infestation,” the man replied.
“In this weather?” replied Bart.
Nodding, the man said, “Even in this weather. The owner doesn’t hold much stock in cleanliness.”
Just then the front door to the inn they were about to enter opened and a portly man stepped out. When his eyes fell on the man who was speaking to them, his face turned into a scowl. “Kirt!” he exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Bart quickly sized up the situation and said, “He was saying how your inn was infested with fleas and that we shouldn’t stay there.”
“Fleas?!” he hollered. “My inn is clean and you know it!” Coming away from the door, the portly man quickly moved toward Kirt.
“Yes fleas!” Kirt yelled back. Turning to Riyan and the others he pointed to the two story building behind him and said, “My inn is the best one this side of the mountains.”
The portly innkeeper’s face was red from apoplexy. “Lies!” he yelled. He was about to take a swing at Kirt when he slipped on the snow covered ground and fell.
“What do you think?” Riyan asked Bart quietly as the man returned to his feet.
“Kevik,” Bart said. “Give us some light.” A moment later light flared from the end of Kevik’s staff. The sudden appearance of light startled both men and the fight that had been about to take place was, at least for the moment, halted.
Bart took in both men. The portly one, despite the snow still adhering to most of him from when he slipped and fell, bore a neat and trim appearance. The portions of his clothing that were visible in the light showed very little in the way of staining, his hair was neatly trimmed, and had an overall well groomed appearance.
The other man was another matter entirely. True, he appeared clean, but his jacket was a bit ruffled, there was a grease stain on his right cheek, and coupled with the fact he was the first to start making accusations didn’t sit well with Bart.
“I think we’ll brave the fleas,” he said. Turning to Riyan he saw him nod in agreement.
“Ha!” the portly man said to Kirt. Kirt’s face broke into a grimace.
Bart laid his hand on Chyfe’s shoulder. “It might be best if one of us were to stay with the horses,” he said. Then gave a nod over to where Kirt was still watching them.
Chyfe nodded. “Don’t be too long.”
“We won’t,” replied Bart. “Promise.” He then turned and walked with the others into the inn.
“Sorry about Kirt,” the innkeeper said once they were inside.
“I’ve seen his kind before,” replied Bart as he looked around the interior of the inn. It may not have been immaculately clean, but it was better than most places he’d stayed.
“He makes me so mad sometimes,” the innkeeper said.
“Business a little slow?” asked Chad. Besides themselves, there was but one other man sitting at a table in the common room.
The innkeeper nodded. “It’ll stay this way until spring,” he replied.
They booked four rooms and had soon returned out front to take their horses around back to the stable. Bart looked around for Kirt as he left the inn.
Chyfe pointed over to the inn which Kirt had tried to convince them to stay. “He went back inside,” he explained.
Riyan glanced to the inn and could see a silhouette in one of the windows watching them. Something about the man caused the hackles on the back of his neck to twitch. With Kirt watching, he and the others took their horses around back to the stable.
Once their horses were settled in, they left them in the care of a young stableboy and returned to the inn. They deposited all but the two saddlebags, the one with the key segments and the other with Kevik’s paraphernalia as well as the magical items, into their rooms before meeting downstairs.
Riyan and Chad were the first to reach the common room. There they found a cheery fire crackling in an open pit situated in the middle of the floor. The lone traveler still sat at a table eating his dinner. Chad nodded over to a table on the other side of the fire pit, large enough to hold their entire group. Riyan agreed and they crossed over to wait for the others. It wasn’t long before Chyfe and the twins appeared. By the time Bart and Kevik arrived, the serving girl had already dropped off their first round of ale.
Bart sat in the chair furthest away from the fire, while Chad basked in the warmth the closest chair provided. “Warm?” he asked Chad with a grin.
Nodding, Chad said, “This is much better.” Lifting his mug of ale, he asked Bart, “How much further do you think it is to Kendruck?”
“Normally three days,” their serving girl replied from behind him. She carried a tray laden with a platter of beef, three loaves of bread and a mess of tubers. Setting the tray on the table, she proceeded to lay out their meal.
“Normally?” asked Chyfe.
“With the snow it’s going to be longer,” she said. “Plus, a storm is on the way.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Seth.
“There’s not a cloud in the sky,” added Soth.
She turned her attention toward them and said, “Old Elma was in here earlier today and her knee was acting up. It always acts up when there’s a storm on the way.”
Kevik grinned. Such home spun lore always amused him.
Beginning to help himself to the steaming pile of sliced beef, Riyan asked, “How is the road between here and Kendruck?”
“Not bad,” she replied.
“Any inns along the way?” Chad asked hopefully. His comment elicited another grin from Bart which he pointedly ignored.
“One,” she replied. “But it’s two days away according to the caravan guards that pass through here.”
“I don’t suppose you know of any shelter between here and the inn?” Chad asked.
“Sorry,” she replied. Picking up her now empty tray, she said, “Enjoy,” then returned to the kitchen.
“A night on the road with a storm on the way,” Chyfe said. “Maybe it would be a good idea to weather it here before starting out.”
Kevik shook his head. “I wouldn’t put too much store in Old Elma’s knee,” he stated. “Such nonsense tends to be less than reliable.”
“I don’t know,” Chad said then turned to Riyan. “Remember Jenson?”
Riyan nodded. “I remember,” he said before turning to the others. “Jenson was a farmer who had a bum leg. One day his leg started aching in what he called ‘an odd cramp’. He claimed that a storm was on the way.”
“Of course no one believed him,” added Chad. “Then the very next day, one of the worst storms that ever hit Quillim rolled through.” When he saw Bart’s confused look he added, “That was before you came.”
“Ah,” said Bart.
“But that doesn’t mean anything,” Kevik asserted. “Old people always have aches and pains. Yet storms don’t always appear because of them.”
“True,” agreed Bart. “We’ll just have to see what develops in the morning.”
Riyan nodded and started in on his meal. While he ate, he kept casting glances to the lone traveler. From his vantage point he had a clear view of the man. His long dark hair was secured with a leather thong, and his face showed a three day’s growth of stubble. Easily in his late thirties, the man had the look of a hunter. Propped against the table was a bow, not the longbow one would associate with professional archers, but a smaller hunting bow useful for bringing down game.
The man picked up his mug, drank the rest of its contents, then slammed the mug down on the table. “Girl!”
