CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A steady stream of people came and went through the doorway, many of them dressed similar to me, at least in the materials of their clothes. Splashes of red fabric, glints of semi-precious stone embellishments. A few sorcerers were visibly casting as they walked around. In general, they were Assistants, and then further down, their Assistants, in more worn out clothing. Those merchants and travelers not associated with sorcerers must be staying with families, or maybe there was another inn buried in the town that I had missed. It took me a few moments to summon the courage to enter. The building appeared like it might collapse at any moment, not from neglect but from sheer impossibility.

When I finally stepped through the threshold, the drama of the moment was ruined by getting bumped into by three busy Assistants with their noses in their scrolls. I was slammed into the doorframe painfully. They didn't even have the mind to apologize before they argued among themselves about whatever it was they were discussing. Rubbing my shoulder, I took a moment to get my bearings inside the inn.

The interior was surprisingly normal construction-wise. The bottom floor held a small lobby to check in. The desk was wooden, behind it, a shelf full of keys with tags. A pair of stairways were on either side of the desk. People were coming up and down both of them at whim, probably defeating the purpose of having two stairways to avoid people going in conflicting directions from meeting on the stairs. I'm sure at one time one stairwell had been used for up and the other down, but the harried clerks had no time to educate their many guests on which was which today.

Before the stairwells was the doorframe to a larger room. I was at the wrong angle to see in, but I heard the clinking of glasses at a bar and the sounds of a small kitchen, popping and sizzling. Chairs constantly scraped against the wooden floor and laughter of old friends reuniting and new friends meeting for the very first time punctuated a lower burbling wave of conversation. This was, plank by plank, a normal inn.

The only thing throwing me off was the smell. There was food, yes, but the constant reek of people was gone. In its place was an assault of odd perfumes, from flowery to sugary, and mild scents like fresh air in the forest. How did someone bottle the fleeting smell of tree leaves and sunshine and dark, untouched earth? I pulled my arms close to my body. I should have used some cologne before leaving my carriage this morning. I was probably the only one who smelled like sweat.

There were blood stains on my knees from crawling during the fight. With one tentative hand I reached up and touched my head. Flaking, dried blood came off on my fingers. Glancing around, I noticed the other Assistants were avoiding me. But... it wasn't disgust, but something else I often pretended to incite: pity. I fell into the role, shrinking smaller and more vulnerable as I got into line. The sooner I got up to a room the sooner I could clean up.

Being around and blending in with Assistants would make my act even more believable for the schmucks I sold to who had never seen a dash of magic before in their lives. There was more of a blob of people than a line directly in front of me. They were all wearing the same colors, outfits varied but also matching. Perhaps all Assistants to the same sorcerer? They were oddly subdued compared to the rambunctious, talkative crowd behind me. I listened closely, peering up to the one at the front.

"I demand better accommodation! This ramshackle room is an insult to offer to a Magester!" The sorcerer slammed his hand down on the table at front, the offending room key punctuating his outrage as it thunked.

"Enchanted One..." The clerk held out her hands consolingly. "... if you are a Magester—"

"If? IF?" The sorcerer roared. I heard a gag beside me. One of the color-coded Assistants leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Sorry about this. Our Master is a compulsive liar when it comes to status. Not sure if yours is the same way, but..." Then the Assistant studied me from head to toe. "Oh, wow. Yours is worse." A pause, the person considered abandoning me out of fear of my hypothetical master's wrath. "You know..." A voice that was already soft reduced to a fainter still sound, "If your Master is abusing you, you can talk to an Avalon and they'll offer you protection until the AEA can deal with him or her."

"Oh, my Master didn't do this. I got pulled into the middle of a street brawl." I gestured to the gash on my head. The Assistant's horror faded into a small smile and a nod of understanding.

"Why didn't they heal it yet?"

"He's running late. Not even in Blythe yet. He sent me ahead to secure his lodgings and scope things out for him, maybe you've heard of him, Fushon of Merode?"

"Ah, sounds familiar, but he's not any of my master's acquaintances." She reached into her purse and dug around, until she pulled out a potion. This one was real, not like the slop I sold. The power of the cosmos incarnate was in every drop. "You're tall. Lean down," she said around the cork as she yanked it off with her teeth. The smell of sunshine grew stronger.

I obeyed, bending at the waist and knees until the top of my head was presented to her.

"Name's Rorona. My master is over there: Shician Lars." She tipped the bottle. A drop slid out; it was thick.

I felt the potion hit the back of my head. It didn't sting like medicine was supposed to when applied to a cut. More like honey. It was warm, but the warmth quickly faded into my skin, leaving the gel cool. The skin felt tight. A scab fell off into my hand from where the blood had been congealing.

I stood again and watched as she capped the bottle. It hadn't looked like she'd used any of it, must have only been a few drops. But what an effect! Now there was only the blood of the others on my pants. I was about to say thank you when our attention was drawn back to see what the clerk's rebuttal to the sorcerer would be.

"It's not that I doubt you, Enchanted One, it's just if you... just as a Magester you of course received Divinis Wenrick's personal invitation to his home...?" The clerk finished the sentence strong, somehow emboldened by mentioning the mid-ranking Divinis. The sorcerer up front blinked, quiet. "Because, of course, Divinis Wenrick makes sure that any more Enchanted than himself that were arriving in Blythe would be the guests of honor at the manor. It is a great charm to have someone more enchanted than oneself acknowledge their family on any day, but especially an Age Day."

"Of course. I—" He gaped helplessly back at the Assistant on his right. The bored Assistant shook her head with a subtle jerk. The one on my right near the back of the pack was trembling from silent laughter. She hissed in my ear.

"Lars didn't get an invite because a Shician is almost the lowest rank you can be."

"Why does he have all these servants?" A dozen seemed a cumbersome entourage, considering that couple with all the kids hadn't required that much help.

"He keeps the crops from our tiny town fertile. In exchange, every literate family's second born has to be his Assistant so he makes a big impression when he goes abroad." Rorona stopped laughing and caught her breath, before snickering again as something else funny struck her. "He had to get his dad to cover the town though because he's too weak to sustain a spell more than a mile away from it."

"Uh, I... chose not to stay at Divinis Wenrick's home," Shician Lars said. "So please improve my room immediately. It's embarrassing even for my Assistants, and they don't expect too much." I noticed that with the lie unraveled, 'please' had entered Lar's vocabulary.

"It's the nicest room we've stayed in in months. At least we can't smell any farm animals. Hexes and ice, why does he have to lie about everything to everyone?" Rorona grumbled.

"Are the rooms safe?" I asked.

"Oh sure. I had the same worry, but they're not done with Avalon magic so they won't collapse randomly. From what I understand, Divinis Wenrick did it himself. It's a sustained spell. He assigned one of his Avalons to handle the weather so he freed up the magic for it."

"Oh? Sorcerers can do that?" I had to learn much from this opportunity. Random sorcerer trivia helped make me seem much more authentic while pitching sales, especially if said trivia had nothing to do with potions.

"Of course they can." Rorona's hands fell to her hips, the flowery fabric fluttering in emphasis. "I mean, the only way this inn is coming down is if he decides to drop the enchantment or if he dies. And with it being his son's Age Day, I doubt he'd want to crush an entire hotel full of us and infuriate the rest of the Arcanacracy. Even if the higher ranking sorcerers are staying with him, they can only fit so much of their entourage at the manor. Most are staying here."

Rorona was concerned for me again. She leaned in close, and I smelled the sprigs of mint on her breath.

"How hard did you hit your head? Maybe that potion wasn't enough—"

"RAH-ROW-NA." Lars snapped so loud and sharp both me and Rorona jumped. I don't know why I felt guilty, as I was not the one who was called. Shician Lars was already halfway up the stairs, his entourage around him like petals on a flower. He was glowering.

"Coming, Enchanted One. My apologies and I beg your forgiveness." For all her sassy talk she bowed so low her bangs touched the ground, before getting up and jogging to catch up with the rest of Shician Lar's Assistants. All together, they were a mesmerizing group, the colors shifting as the bodies moved up the stairs.

"Next?"

I closed the gap of several feet between me and the counter. My mind was distracted, trying to recall all I had learned about sorcerers. They didn't even make me pay for the room when I assured them my master, who had most of our coin, was running late. I was given a room key and waved toward the stairs, the workers eager to make a dent in the line.

I trudged up what seemed like endless stairs to reach the tenth floor. I was used to walking around all day, but had never climbed more than a handful of stairs. By the time I found the door that matched my key, my legs were a jellied mess. I threw open the door and collapsed on the bed without taking the room in at first. The downy mattress and woolen blanket embraced me warmly. To think, yesterday this room probably didn't exist, and after the festival when Blythe's sanitary needs were normalized, it would vanish once more. I snuggled the blanket, knowing I would be its only companion in this life.

The room was nice. I noticed with satisfaction a distinct lack of the usual spider webs and mold. To my right on a small table was a faintly flickering lantern. At first I thought it was sloppy housekeeping that the empty wardrobe hung open, but then I felt reassured that there were no assassins lurking. Yet, after a moment, unease crept up my spine.

I heard a howling pounding against the window, like the wind during a storm, but it had been clear skied out. I unlocked the shutters. Pulling them back, I peered out beyond. Wind blasted my face, and by squinting I could see the ground far, far below. Around me there was nothing but the dark, heavy sky with its uncountable stars. The weather tower rose in the distance across town. Below me, people were still distinguishable, but oddly small. Smaller than I'd ever seen them. My stomach lurched, the streetways below began to sway. Was the building collapsing? I slammed the shutters shut and ran to the room door. The world stopped shifting.

I regained my senses and inhaled.

The building was steady. I'd been faint. The feeling had not entirely passed, so I flopped onto the bed. I made an agreement with myself to keep the window closed during this little stay, even though it was unusual for me. Usually I left it open so I could hear gossip and get to know the flavor of the town to personalize my sales tactic. Since all I heard was the howling, I would keep the window closed. It's not that I was terrified of the view. Rolling onto my side and studying the door, I promised myself that I would not forget about Mallow. Getting her back would be my first priority tomorrow.

I rehearsed my apology as I went back down the stairs (much easier than going up) to the general tavern area to get a drink. I wouldn't let her, or myself, down this time.

I'd spent the rest of the first night socializing, which involved drinking, which resulted in me passing out. I'd always been skinny and never a very good drinker, but the Assistants were so encouraging and so many rounds were on the house and I never passed up a bargain....

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