The Onyx Throne - Book One

Mitchell supposed he had been somewhat spoiled by The Maiden’s Mist in Basari, but even taking that into consideration, this hovel they now found themselves in seemed an absurdly far way down to travel. For all he knew, there were more inns like this than bathhouses like the last one, but he hoped not. It smelled like sour sweat and rancid beer, for one. And a haze of smoke clung to the low ceiling almost like the inn had its own weather system. The floor was well-worn stone with a scant covering of old straw and there were seven or eight tables unevenly spaced around the room, some circular, some square or rectangle, and one an odd combination of both, as if someone had two broken halves and simply nailed them together.

Most of the tables had customers, primarily human with a few dwarves mixed in. All of them looked ragged and weary. There was a middle-aged human woman that appeared to be employed there but wore an expression that said she’d rather be anywhere else. As she approached them Mitchell noticed a stout looking club hooked to her waist with a handle worn smooth from use. She gave them a wary eye, looking to Allora first. Even in her simple but sturdy traveling garb, the elf had a way about her that people tended to notice. A nobility in her walk and an imperiousness in her gaze. Mitchell had watched it in their time on the road when they interacted with people at the way stops and he understood why Lethelin was always calling her “m’lady” and making digs at her regal demeanor. As far as he could tell, no one knew who Allora was but they knew she was someone.

Mitchell didn’t have enough experience to know if all elves were like that or not, but he found it hard to imagine a whole race of people that acted as she did. Guardsmen reacted in a similar way when they eyed her. He suspected they recognized the way she walked as someone who knew how to use the blade she carried and was perhaps just as deadly with her krisa. Mitchell had begun to recognize it himself after spending so much time sparring with her.

The innkeeper had deep worry lines etched into a prematurely aged face and her black hair was going gray at the temples. Her nose didn’t look right, as if it had been broken at some point in the past, but her ice blue eyes were sharp and quick. She looked long at Allora and Mitchell saw her eyes flick to her krisa and do a mental count of each stone, and then to the sword at her hip. She then gave a long look at Mitchell, also seeing his sevith and blade, and then at Lethelin. Mitchell had the feeling of being taken in and evaluated in an instant and he felt the need to tell the woman that they meant no harm. However, their hostess beat them to it.

“I non wanning trouble,” she said, her voice surprisingly feminine coming from such a square-jawed and almost mannish face. The accent was hard for him to make out though. He’d gotten used to the subtle differences between the way Allora, Lethelin, and Revos all spoke, but this woman’s accent was new.

“Nor do we, good lady. We seek only rooms for tonight, if it be Stollar’s will. Four. And space in your stable for a clorvol. We have coin.”

The woman’s face soured at the mention of the clorvol and Mitchell knew that having the beast in close proximity would make dealing with any jivis more of a hassle. It had happened plenty of times on the road and they’d been cursed at more than once.

“Stabling ta clorvol will being extra. If you non be liking it, then be going someplace else.”

The stout woman crossed her arms over an ample bosom. Her dress, a blue and white affair that was cinched around a broad waist with a plain leather belt was simple but sturdy. It looked to have been washed countless times but was still in good repair.

“We will pay,” Allora reassured the tense innkeeper. “It will be sold in the morning. Tonight, if my good lady can provide the name of someone with whom we can speak. We wish to provision for a trip to the mountains.”

Seeing that they didn’t intend to argue or haggle, the woman relaxed a little.

“I knowing someone who can being a help.”

“We would be most thankful.”

The woman eyed them for another moment before she spoke again.

“Two fangs for ta four rooms and ta clorvol.”

“That is acceptable,” Allora said, although there was a tightness in her voice.

“Now wait a minute,” Lethelin spoke up. “That’s robbery! Two fangs for this place?”

“If you non liking it then there is being ta door,” the hard woman snapped at Lethelin and stuck her chin up as if daring Lethelin to argue.

“It is acceptable,” Allora repeated and gave Lethelin a hard look.

Lethelin looked as if she wanted to argue but clamped her mouth shut instead. Perhaps so as not to admit total defeat, she mumbled “It better come with a meal at least. And breakfast!”

“Ta kitchen will be serving yous.”

Allora fetched two gold coins from her pouch and placed them into the woman’s meaty palm, and she secreted them away somewhere before turning and calling out.

“Tarnen! See to ta clorvol!”

From a shadowed corner near the bar, a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, stood up and Mitchell could hear him grumbling from across the room.

“Stollar’s hairy taint, why did they have to bring a clorvol?”

As he walked out the door, the woman whacked him in the back of the head and it was strong enough to stagger the kid.

“Non being yer business. They paid now be doing yer job.”

Tarnen regained his feet with a sulking expression but walked out the door without further comment.

“Me boy. Lazy as a merchant lord’s third son, but he be knowing how to deal with ta clorvol. Non worries.”

“And your name, good lady,” Allora asked, “if it be Stollar’s will.”

“Yarlest,” she said plainly. “This is being my inn.”

“You are a long way from Islivaria, good lady Yarlest.”

Yarlest cocked an eyebrow at her and seemed to reevaluate the elf.

“Me man. I did be following him here so he could be hunting ta mountains for treasure. But he did be dying ten high suns back and this inn being what’s left.”

“May you return one day so that the Glass Sea can embrace you on your final sunrise.”

This really seemed to take the innkeeper aback. Her mouth opened and closed as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Finally, collecting herself, she said, “Thank you, m’lady.”

She actually began to bow before Allora reached out a hand to stop her.

“Please do not. I am not a lady. I have just met a few people from Islivaria in my travels and I know how they speak of the Glass Sea. I have not seen it myself but if it is at all how your people say, it would be a worthy pilgrimage.”

Yarlest actually blushed.

“It is, m--” she caught herself, about to utter the honorific again. “It is. I dream of it still and I wake up crying as I did on my seventh name day.”

“If it be Stollar’s will,” Allora said with a heavy note of compassion in her voice.

“If it be,” Yarlest said again. “Thank yous.”

Remembering her task, Yarlest led them through the common room of the inn where they were eyed by the customers but none bothered them. Going behind the bar she fetched four keys right as Revos entered carrying a few bags of their more important possessions. Yarlest started, as did several of the others in the room, but as before, no one commented.

“You be keeping interesting company, uh… What should I be calling you, uh, miss?

“Chell, good lady. All my friends address me as such.”

“As you like, Chell,” Yarlest gave a slight nod of the head and much warmer smile than when they had entered. “Once you are being settled in your rooms return to ta common area and I’ll be having food ready for you and yer companions. You can be finding yer rooms on ta second floor. It is being up those steps.”

Yarlest pointed off to the right where a set of stairs ascended to the second floor and the four of them headed in that direction.

“Chell?” Lethelin whispered once they had cleared the first floor.

“A friend when I was young,” Allora whispered back. “We were in the same archery class. It should not need to be said that none of you should use your real names.”

The rooms were serviceable, if not exactly comfortable. The bed consisted of a cot frame on which coarse hemp-like rope was strung to support the lumpy straw mattress. After looking at the number of bits of straw that were poking through the threadbare sheet that held it all together Mitchell thought it might be more comfortable to sleep on the floor.

After dropping off his few meager belongings he joined the others downstairs for their dinner. It was simple fare, some sort of meaty stew with root vegetables that had the same curry-esque spice that the people of Iletish seemed to enjoy. Throughout the meal Revos was glowering into his food and barely spoke a word. He was also going heavy on the alcohol they served and, before the rest of them had finished, he stood abruptly, grabbed the wine bottle, mumbled about going to his room, and stomped up the stairs.

“What’s going on with him?” Mitchell finally asked when they were alone. “He’s been acting weird since we left Basari.”

A sour look passed over Allora’s features.

“He and I had a disagreement over a few things in the city. It is nothing. It will pass.”

“You, too?” Lethelin said, directing her question at Allora. “Did he try to talk his way into your bed, as well?”

Allora looked slightly startled for a second and paused to consider her words.

“He invited me to share his bed, yes. He did the same to you?”

“Yep. Came ringing my door chime after we’d met with the tailor.”

Allora’s eyes went between Lethelin and Mitchell and she had some emotion on her face that Mitchell couldn’t identify.”

“And did you?”

“I’m not saying I have the highest standards in the world, but I don’t do horns,” Lethelin scoffed and took another drink of the watery ale they served here. “Or scales. Nothing with gills, either.”

“So…” Mitchell surmised. “He’s in a bad mood because he didn’t get laid?”

Lethelin chuckled but Allora remained silent. She looked pensive.

“I do not know. I’ve never seen one of his moods last this long. I suspect something else is troubling him but I do not have the patience to coddle him.”

Just then Yarlest came over to their table with a small scrap of paper for Allora.

“Here is being a directions to a dwarf who can be buying what yous wish to sell and selling what yous wish to buy. His name is being Nothok. I sent Tarnen over to tell him to be keeping his lanterns lit and to be expecting yous. He’ll being fair.”

Allora looked up at the stout innkeeper and gave a gracious nod.

“Thank you, Yarlest.”

The woman nodded in what was not quite a bow, and went off to see to her other customers.

“Lethelin, would you like to come with us to meet the merchant? You are welcome to join us. And I know how you like to haggle.”

The thief mopped up the last of her stew with the remaining piece of her crusty bread and wobbled her head.

“No,” Lethelin said slowly. “No, I think I want to stay here. Have a drink or two more. Maybe turn in early. Big day tomorrow, right?”

Allora almost seemed surprised by the good sense of Lethelin’s decision.

“Yes,” Allora replied. “I think that is a wise choice. We will not be long.”

Meals finished, Mitchell got up from the table and followed Allora out the door into the cool night of this sleepy little mining town. After weeks in the blistering heat, Mitchell thought it actually felt cold, which was almost a novel experience at this point.

***

Lethelin watched the two go and then very casually picked up her mug and retreated to a darkened corner of the inn where she could see the entire room unobstructed. She pulled a stool from an empty table, plopped it down, sat and went still.

Allora was no fool but she hadn’t spent time in places like this when she was younger. Not little miss fancy pants! She would have been eating with the lords and ladies in the palace when she was young. But Lethelin knew places like this and this one smelled off.

The innkeeper was a good enough sort and Lethelin had no concerns about her, but it was the other patrons that tickled the back of Lethelin’s senses.

“It’s not always about what people do, but it’s what they don’t do as well. Don’t just look for what’s going on around you, but look also for what’s not going on. Is anything different than you think it should be? Danger won’t always come from the obvious place. Learn to see what people don’t want to show you.”

Her mentors voice came back to her from long ago. But he’d been right. She had learned and those same instincts told her that something was off about this place. The people looked but they didn’t stare. They averted their eyes a little too quickly. Lethelin had seen the quality of women this chum bucket of a town offered and, while she didn’t like to flaunt her beauty, she knew she was worth some long looks. She had used that fact more than once to get her the things she wanted or to get into places she wasn’t supposed to go. And she knew that she was more than these men had likely seen in a while. Then there was Allora. Miss Prissy Britches could stop a dragon in flight if she’d wanted to. But the men didn’t stare. No… That wasn’t right.

So she went still and she waited. Over the years she’d learned to tell when it happened. The shift was very subtle but she’d learned to feel it. It was a slight change in the light and a difference in pressure on her skin. Colors were a little bit dimmer and the shadows a little bit darker. But she knew when her talent manifested and the people around her would no longer notice her. Thoughts of her would often leave the person’s mind unless they were really determined. She was there, but she must have slipped out while they weren’t looking, they would tell themselves.

Lethelin’s hand creeped under her cloak and found the hilt of her stiletto and she idly traced the ridges of the handle. She listened and she watched. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait very long.