what got into her. Wonderful girl, actually; she loved my stories almost as much as I do. Wait, love!' he called down the stairs, and dashed out of sight, knocking Otik sideways.
Otik nearly backed into a raised arm; a middle-aged, peasant couple were waving arms at each other, their eyes locked. 'Didyou or did you not look at her with pure desire, you great wobble cheeked fool?' asked the woman.
'Anyone would,' the man answered, loud enough to be heard several trees over. 'Especially if he were married to a wretched mass of gripes and dimples like you, cow. And you're one to talk, aren't you-ogling that skinny little sly-looking traveler back-' He turned to point at Reger, wavering when all he could see was an occasional flailing fist or arm. 'Back there, somewhere. Tramp.'
'Pig.' They grabbed each other's throats and vanished under the table.
Tika watched, hand to her mouth. Grunts and heavy breathing emerged from under the table. Otik wondered, trotting past to the next crisis, if the two were still fighting, or…?
Tika rushed by him, nearly spilling ale from the pitcher. Otik grabbed her arm as she passed. 'Did you give them full-strength ale?'
At first he thought he had grabbed her too hard;
then he realized that her tears were from panic. 'I did. Strong as can be, straight from the new kegs. But they all get worse, not better. They're not even sleepy.'
'Impossible.' Otik sniffed at the ale. So did Tika. 'Then what's happening?' wondered Otik.
From just the sniffing, Tika's eyes were already bright and restless. Otik knew the answer almost as soon as he had asked the question.
'Moonwick.' Otik remembered speaking of magic, and he remembered leaving the kender alone with the alewort. 'Theempty purse he dropped.' A love potion! 'If that damned thief trickster ever returns-'
Just in time he saw the man with the eye-patch raise his tankard, staring directly at Tika. Her eyes leveled in return. Otik gave a start and shoved her hastily behind the bar, setting a barrel in her place. The man licked his lips and came forward, tankard in hand. At the time, setting out the barrel seemed a clever feint, but it opened unforeseen floodgates. Despite Otik's protest-'I'm sorry, there seems to be something wrong with the ale'-the stranger methodically rolled out every last cask. The Inn guests cheered, looking up briefly from their loving and fighting. And the ale continued to pour.
After that, things became confused. The drovers had started several small fights, wandering off and losing interest between drinking rounds, then embracing each other passionately before starting up again. Patrig and Loriel were dancing in the middle of the room. Patrig's mother and father were kissing against the tree trunk. Hillae had disappeared somewhere, and Reger was riding Farmer Mort horseback in circles around the room. Their whoops and cries were indistinguishable from whatever was going on over there, and there, in the shadows.
Tika said, 'Can ale do all that?' She looked interest-ediy at the mug on her tray. 'Otik, what if I-'
'No.'
'But it looks like so much-'
'No. It looks like too much, that's what it does.' Otik pulled her away from a line of dancing old men and women.
'But if Loriel can-'
'No, no, and no. You're not Loriel.' Otik made a de cision. 'Here's your cloak. Wear it. Here's mine; sleep in it. Find a place, go, and don't come back to the Inn tonight.'
'But you can't manage without me.'
Otik gestured at the room now frenzied with activity. 'I can't manage with you. Go.'
'But where will I sleep?'
'Anywhere. Outside. Someplace safe. Go, child.' He cleared her way to the door, pulling her with one hand.
As she stepped into the night, she said in a hurt voice, 'But why?'
Otik stopped dead. 'Well, we'll talk about that later. Go, child. I'm sorry.'
He tried to kiss her good night. Tika, angry, ducked and ran. 'I want a place of my own!' she cried. Otik stared after her, then closed the door and tried to get back to the fire.
The best he could do was edge to the bar. The dancers and fighters had split into smaller but more boisterous groups, shouting and singing to each other. Otik, unable even to feed the fire, watched helplessly as the bodies became struggling silhouettes, the silhouettes coupled shadows, the shadows a noisy dark. That night the inn was full of joyous and angry voices, but all he could see, by a single candle held near the mirror, was his own face, alone.
The next morning Otik stepped dazedly over broken mugs and intertwined bodies. Most of the benches lay on their sides, one completely turned over. It was like a battlefield, he thought, but for the life of him he couldn't tell who won. There were bodies on bodies, and clothing hung like banners over chairs, and out-flung arms and wayward legs sticking from under the few pieces of upright furniture. Tankards lay on their sides everywhere, and everywhere pieces of pottery rocked on the floor as people snored or groaned.
The fire was nearly out. Not even during the worst nights of Haggard Winter had that happened. Otik put tinder on the last embers, blew them into flame, added splinters, and laid the legs of a broken chair on.
He moved the skillet as quietly as possible, but inevitably the eggs sizzled in the grease. Someone whimpered. Otik tactfully pulled the pan from the fire.
Instead he tiptoed around, gathering dented tankards, pottery shards, and a few stray knives and daggers. A haggard young stranger grabbed his ankle and pleaded for water. When Otik returned, the man was asleep, his arm wrapped protectively around the raven-tressed Hillae. Instead of making him look protective, it made him seem even younger. She smiled in her sleep and stroked his hair.
The steps thudded too loudly; someone was stamping up them. Otik heard more whimpers. The front door boomed against the wall, and Tika, her hair pulled primly back, stepped through and looked disapprovingly at the debris and tangled bodies. 'Shall we clean up?' she said too loudly.
Otik winced as the others cringed around her. 'In a while. Would you go fetch water? We'll need more than the cistern holds, I'm afraid.'
'If you really need it.' She slammed the inn door. The thump of her tread down the stairs shook the floor.
'Can't we kill her?' Reger the trader groaned. His right arm was wrapped around both his ears, and his head was cradled on the sleeping farmer's chest. A few weak voices croaked encouragement.
'Even think that again,' Otik said quietly, 'and I will bang two pots together.'
It was quiet after that.
Gradually the bodies disentwined. A few rose, shakily. Hillae approached the bar with dignity and passed some coins. 'Thank you,' she said quietly. 'Not the evening I'd planned, but interesting enough, I suppose.'
'Not the evening I'd planned either,' Otik agreed. 'Will you be all right then?'
'Tired.' She pulled her hair back over her shoulders. 'It's time I was back home. I have a bird, you know, and it needs feeding.'
'Oh, a caged bird, then.' Otik realized he wasn't at his sharpest. 'Songbird?'
'Lovebird. The mate is dead. You know, I really ought to set it free.' She smiled suddenly. 'Good day.' She bent quietly over, kissed the cheek of her sleeping partner, and walked silently and gracefully out.
Tika struggled back in, knocking buckets against thedoorframe. A few patrons flinched, but glared at Otik through red rimmed eyes and said nothing.
He took the water from her. 'Thank you. Now go tell Mikel Claymaker that I need fifty mugs.' He passed her a handful of coins. 'There's my earnest for the order.'
She stared at the money. Otik was as casual with his coin today as he was with his help. 'Shouldn't I stay here?' she said loudly. 'You'll need someone to mop the floor-' She stamped on it to shake the dust for emphasis.
''This is how you can best help me,' he said softly. She looked puzzled, but nodded.
A body detached itself from the chair on which it had been draped like a homemade doll. 'Tika-'
'Loriel?' Tika couldn't believe it. 'Your hair looks like a bird's nest.' She added, 'Sea bird. Sloppy one.'
'It does?' Loriel put a hand up, then dropped it. 'No matter. Tika, the most exciting thing. Patrig told me last night that he likes me. He said so again this morning.'
