“Ah, finding trouble is often the best part, my dear,” she says, and I’m so surprised that I laugh out loud.
Her eyes crinkle again as she chuckles along with me.
“It’s a lot more fun to get into than get out of,” I agree.
“Do you have somewhere to stay while you search?” she asks, and when I shake my head, she nods to herself. “A friend of mine runs an inn on the outskirts of a human neighborhood. It’s a quiet spot where everyone stays to themselves and minds their own business.”
“Sounds like my kind of place,” I say.
Finding somewhere to lay my head is the next item on my checklist, and I’m not going to pass up an opportunity when it so readily presents itself.
She lowers her voice just enough to make the words feel heavier. “If you’re short on coin, he’s known to barter a room for... other favors. Nothing indecent, mind you, but perhaps not strictly legal, if one were to look into the laws too closely.”
A wry smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “And let me guess… he’s studied those laws very, very carefully?”
Her eyes twinkle, but her silence answers my question before she asks one of her own. “How familiar are you with the city?”
My hand tilts back and forth in front of me. “It’s been several years since I’ve been here, but I know my way around well enough.”
“Go down to the eastern end of River Street and look for the grocery on the right. Something to do with a boar or a buck… I forget the name.” She waves her hand impatiently. “Turn there, and the inn is a few buildings down. It’s called The Keen Pint, and you can’t miss the sign out front. The pub is downstairs, but there are plenty of rooms to rent on the upper levels.”
She stops to give me an assessing sweep with her eyes. “The owner’s name is Leif. He’ll be suspicious of you in those leathers, but tell him Cornelia sent you. Oh, and save one of those donuts for him. It’ll do the trick.”
“Thank you, Cornelia,” I say with every ounce of sincerity I can muster. The gentle smile I offer her is the best my frayed nerves will let me shape, but it’s real.
Not a mask.
“Thank me by coming back someday and telling me every bit of the trouble you’ve stirred up along the way.”
Her time-worn fingers close around my wrist, warm and steady despite the lines etched deep into her skin. She holds my gaze with that same knowing look.
“I hope you find what you’re searching for,” she says, and it feels genuine.
I squeeze her hand before I turn away and push through the crowd.
“Yeah, me too.”
Xeni
Despitethebrightsunand stifling heat outside, the inn is gloomy as I step through the door. My vision takes a few seconds to adjust, the lingering green haze fading as the space comes into focus. The pub looks like it’s weathered the past century and a half with little complaint… and even less updating.
A lacquered bar spans the far wall, and round tables sit in a haphazard pattern across the open room. The wooden floors are rough-hewn, and worn paths have been carved between the bar and the scattered tables, as if generations have walked them so often, the wood had no choice but to yield. Dim lights hang over high-backed booths with faded brown vinyl seats that hug the walls. Once, they might’ve passed for leather, but now they’re cracked and peeling.
Run-down, like everything else here, but solid in its own quiet way.
A few patrons occupy stools along the bar, and every head turns as I approach. I’m surprised to spot two monsters among the humans. A short, thin Ror’ganth sits at the far end, his dark green skin blending into the dim corners. Next to him, a Curtiphan watches me with all three eyes, unblinking.
Both wear civilian clothes, and their suspicion is thinly masked behind polite neutrality. Their smiles don’t reach their eyes, and they study my uniform with measured glances.
The human behind the bar clears his throat, and it pulls my attention to his tightened jaw and the way his fingers drum once against the countertop before stilling. He’s tall and broad, with a thick graying beard and heavy brows drawn low over sharp eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
The words are less a greeting and more a warning. Not outright hostility, but close. He’s wary and coiled, ready to show me the door if I give the wrong response.
I glance at the others once more before stepping closer.
“Hi,” I say, keeping my tone light, though the cheer is out of place in the tense room. “I was told to ask for Leif.”
