“Not good, but good enough. That blood magic was…” Bell’s eyes dart towards the dark end of the alley. “Wait, did you—did you kill her?”
“Of course, I killed her. I’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”
And it was worth coming back for Bell, if only for that wide-eyed stunned look on his face just now. The slow reddening of his ears.
***
Keeping his arm around Bell’s shoulders, Rakos finds the nearest inn—a large building displaying a helpful sign carved in the shape of a bed. “Can you rent us a room, by the way?” Rakos asks. “I think I have blood on me.”
Bell moves a little farther away from him. “Happy to help.”
“You’re the best. How much coin do you have on you?”
“Seven silver. Assuming they take Silaisan coin.”
Great. Rakos can save Ludvik’s purse for caravan passage. “Perfect. I’ll be right in that corner. If anyone bothers you, wave and I’ll kill them.”
He meant it as a joke, but Bell’s eyes just widen, and he hurries away to the front desk. Rakos veers towards a back table where he can watch Bell approach the counter. His entire body thrums with unreleased tension, ready to jump the innkeeper if he so much as breathes too close to Bell.
The inn itself is pointedly nondescript. Everything in the downstairs tavern is plain: blank wooden walls, bare rafters, patched white curtains. Every chair and table is unique from rough repairs, but indistinguishable. The fireplaces at the north and south ends bear the only ornamentation, with sinuous carved dragons encircling the crackling flames.
Not many patrons, and no crowd at the counter. Bell returns to his side after a quick conversation, key in hand.
Rakos stands. “Did you get us a room?”
Bell waves the iron key. “I only had enough coin for one night. The innkeeper almost didn’t accept Silaisan silver, but he said he’d make an exception for me.”
Oh, no.
“Great. Lead the way.” Rakos manages to restrain himself until they reach the plain, whitewashed stairwell. Then he can’t help but say, “You know the innkeeper swindled you, right?”
“What?” Bell glances wide-eyed over his shoulder. “But he was so nice…”
“We really need to get you new clothes. Your current look screams ‘sweet, innocent foreigner, please swindle me.’”
“Sweet?” Bell asks. “Innocent?”
“Yeah, it’s very deceptive.” Rakos claps him on the shoulder. “Which has its advantages, but you might want to advertise what a badass you are.”
Bell stops at the top of the stairs. “Nobody’s ever called me a badass before.”
“Well, they didn’t see you jump Kaspar at the waystation. Which room are we in?”
“The second room on the left,” Bell says, and leads them forward. They reach a wooden door upon whose face are painted five words in Trade:
Second Room on the Left.
Rakos contemplates the label. “What was the name of this inn, again?”
“The innkeeper says it’s just called ‘Inn.’”
Bell unlocks the door and pushes it open. Rakos latches the door behind them. The room is as nondescript as the rest of Inn. Plain wood and obvious repairs. No weird stains and no signs of mice, so at least Bell didn’t get swindledtoobadly.
The room is worth three silver at the most. Maybe two, for one night. Rakos isn’t exactly certain. Between growing up in the nobility—impoverished but arrogant—and ten years in the dragon corps, Rakos rarely has to rent a room. His knowledge of current room prices in Draskora isn’t much stronger than Bell’s.
Rakos is sure of one thing, though. For seven silver, the room shouldn’t have only one bed.
?
