“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll get it changed. Go do some work.” I flap my hand at her, and she scurries away, still looking smug.
Lighting a candle, I pop it into the holder we keep next to the cellar door and unbolt it.
“Wish me luck,” I call out to Millie.
“You may be some time?” she queries with a laugh.
“If I’m not back in half an hour, send a search party, but preferably not Cuthbert,” I say, jokingly.
“Why?”
“Because last time he went into the cellar, he got lost for half a day, and there are only two rooms.” I shake my head. “Why do I end up with staff like him?” I add with a sigh.
“Because if he belongs anywhere in the Night Lands, it’s here,” Millie says, disappearing in the pantry as I open the door to the cellar.
I’m met with the smell of damp and cold, and it makes me shiver briefly. Millie is, of course, right. She always is. Cuthbert wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t taken him in, no matter what his size. He’s another one with a gentle soul. One which the Night Lands should have chewed up and spat out.
And yet, I’m still here.
I wonder what that makes me?
WARDEN
Ihave been struggling to contain my Brag form all evening. The luscious female,LadyRyle, did not reappear after she provided my food and was noticeable by her absence. The small witch who showed me my room did an admirable job behind the bar, and I was bought several more tankards of cider by the Reivers as a show of no ill will on their part.
But I wanted the mistress of the tavern, and I was denied her presence.
Now I lie in the bed, doing my best not to become my Brag because I doubt the rickety piece of furniture will take its weight, staring at the ceiling.
Everywhere is dark and quiet. I am the only guest here for the night, the Reivers all long gone. The only sounds are from the rodents scurrying in the thick walls and the occasional fall of snow.
Tomorrow I will be gone from here. Tomorrow I collect my fresh cohort of Faerie prisoners from the Reivers in the Northern quadrant and take them to the Shadow Keep where I will have to contemplate my eternity, as well as obtain theinformation I require from creatures who still think they are in charge.
In the darkness, a smile steals over my face. I rather like that part of my job.
A job I’ll do until I get my mortality back. A task which I will never forget, not as long as the monster who took it from me still exists.
And the chances of her dying are as infinitesimal as mine. So, my quest is all the more important. I cannot let it be sideswiped by a fragrant female, even one as incredible as the lady of this establishment.
A long, low wail pierces my thoughts. Ones which have turned from the lightness of Lady Ryle to the darkness of my existence. Is this tavern haunted?
The noise cuts off as suddenly as it arose. It makes all my hide stand on end. Spectre or no, I will not have my rest disturbed.
I grab my weapons bag and pull out two daggers. They’ll do for a start in such a confined space. Creeping to my door, I open it slightly and look out into the darkened landing.
There is a pin prick of light from one of the other rooms, but nothing else. With all the silence I can muster, I slip out of my room and hold my breath.
The sound comes again, this time accompanied by a choking noise. I dislike it intensely. It wraps around my heart and squeezes at me, making my vision narrow. I shake my head violently.
A match strikes and a candle is lit. A witch stands before me in a long white shift, her violet eyes glittering in the flickering light.
“Go back to bed, Brag,” she says in a hushed tone. “This does not concern you.”
“I have paid good coin for this bed. I do not wish to be disturbed in this manner.” I pull myself up to my full height, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on the witch.
“And you will not be disturbed again,” she says, padding past me in bare feet, which seems rather reckless for a tavern of this age and decrepitude.
At the end of the landing, she turns left, and I remain where I am with the burning candle at the back of my eyes as the glow of the candle slowly disappears.
