The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (37 page)

Deet points at a decrepit barn with holes in the roof and appears to be ready to fall over any day now. “Looks good enough to me for the night.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Miles says in protest not having any of it.

“To risky,” Tor says, pointing to the surrounding fields. He circles in place, and his oversized dark-grey leather duster coat covering the upper two-thirds of his body and most of his arm flaps. “No escape routes and open fields in all directions. Cray would pluck us off like a flock of birds in the open sky.”

“Well, Cray isn’t after us,” Deet says.

“He might not be after you, but the same result will arise when whoever you are running from finds you tucked away in that barn. I say we either make camp deep in the woods, or as a last resort find an inn where we won’t stick out as we are amongst the people.”

Deet comically eyes Tor from head to toe, taking in this very large man with scars over his eye. Then he glances at Lord Miles Marlow and his tattoo, then to Pard, the seeros with the uncontrollable light. “What was I thinking? Of course we won’t stick out, a merry band of normal folk like us, we can blend in with anyone, anywhere. To the town it is because the kids will veto any chance of spending the night in the cold.”

“You got that right,” Miles says. Miles points ahead to a dim glow on the horizon. “Those lights are probably the town we want, so if you guys are done wasting time squabbling about the barn and woods, I’d really like to get out of this damned cold and get some warm food.”

Pard glances at Deet and Tor both dumbfounded and staring at him. Pard raises his brow and smiles, then takes off after Miles already well away from them and not caring if anyone is following him or not. “Both of you coming?” Pard says.

Deet grunts.

Tor grunts.

They both reluctantly follow Pard and Miles onto the road and into the next town, which the town is much larger and busier compared to Polin Town. The full streets are alive with a gaggle of people and sleighs. The bells attached to the horses jingle with every trot. Large, colorful, thin paper balls with candles in the center hang from the lantern posts and tree branches and on strings strung between buildings. Children skate on a frozen pond and smiling couples stroll along the winding paths and redbrick sidewalks. Bundled up in warm clothes, many gathered in and around the town square and a raised gazebo. A stringed quartet of violins and flutes play on stage while onlookers mingle around small fires to keep warm.

“What’s this, a festival?” Deet says.

Pard smiles. “It’s perfect, a winter festival, I love these. My parents used to take me to events like this when I was young, to celebrate the ancient ways and rejoice in the winter coming.”

Miles walks past the festival as if it’s not even there and makes straight for the first sign that resembles an inn.

Pard jogs and slides on the ice to catch up to him. “Don’t you want to hang out in the wintery fun?”

Miles, serious and chattering teeth, his lips blue, he stutters, “No, are you nuts? In the last two days I’ve had more than a lifetime of fun in the cold. I just want to get inside, get warm, eat, and go to sleep.” He steps up onto a stone step and stops underneath a blue sign with a white bed painted on it. Miles eyes the glossy brown door. “I think this is us.”

Inside, Pard’s body relaxes from the heat radiating out of the central fireplaces.

Miles makes straight for the front desk.

An ancient man with a pointy chin and bushy grey eyebrows and sideburns smiles at him. “You look cold, son, what can I do for you?”

Deet and Tor enter the inn, and the innkeeper stands up a little straighter and eyes them with suspicion.

“We need two rooms,” Miles says, leaning forward with authority and resting his arms folded on the counter.

Pard scoots in close to Miles till they are touching side by side and he does the same, resting his forearms on the counter.

The innkeeper purses his lips and slowly shakes his head. “Sorry, boys, no can do, almost all booked up with the festival and all. Only one room left, and it’s a single bed, very small room.”

Deet and Tor move toward the counter, and the innkeeper swallows hard as if he has something stuck in his throat.

The innkeeper stares at Tor, massive and imposing and looking down on him. He quickly glances at Tor’s solid white-bluish eye with no pupil.

Pard notices the innkeeper’s nervousness, and he smiles and turns around. “These are my two uncles, Uncle Yaz and—
umm
—Uncle Rot.”

The man nervously nods, not taking his eyes off of Tor and ignoring Deet. “Yes, I can see the resemblance, it’s truly uncanny. Very nice to meet y-you. Uncle Rot you say? Lovely name.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” Tor says in his deep, noble voice, and he slightly bows his head.

The man coughs to clear his throat. “Right, so, like I said, I wish I could, but sorry, almost all booked up for the night with the festival—only a single room left.”

Deet raises his finger. “We’ll take it.”

“For the four of you? Didn’t I say it was a small room?”

“You did, and we’ll still take it and make it work.”

“All right, then that’ll be two silver for the night, it’s usually just one, but, with the festival and all, I got to charge a little extra.”

Deet pushes between Pard and Miles and sets two silver coins on the counter.

The innkeeper’s eye gleams at the robbery, and he sweeps the coins off the wood.

Deet holds up another silver coin. “Extra pillows and blankets.”

The innkeeper eagerly nods. “Indeed, indeed, most definitely, I’ll bring them right up, Uncle Yaz.”

Deet sets the coin on the table and then adds another one on top of it. “And, we aren’t to be disturbed for any reason, and, we aren’t here if anyone asks.”

Tor steps forward next to Deet and his back magically widens even more than normal. He glares at the innkeeper to make sure he understands Deet’s point.
 

The innkeeper sucks in a quick breath and holds it in as he leans away from the counter. His shaky hand reluctantly sweeps the extra silver off the wood. “You won’t hear a peep from anyone and no one will bother you. Discretion at the Larin Inn is what we are most famous for.”

“I like discretion and a peaceful sleep,” Tor says, slowly leaning over the creaking counter and stopping almost nose to nose with the innkeeper. “
Real peaceful
.”

“Yes, yes, Uncle Rot, I bet you do. Who doesn’t like peaceful sleep? I’ll make sure you sleep like a baby tonight, I promise.”

“Good, because sometimes uncontrollable urges overtake me when woken from a peaceful sleep. I have this trick I do with innkeeper’s limbs when I’m disturbed, it’s truly disturbing, you never want to see it,
ever
.”

“Yes, yes, well, we all get upset from time to time when awoken from a peaceful sleep, right, Uncle Rot? There will be no need for innkeeper limb tricks tonight.” And the old man tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a wheezy cackle instead.

Tor grunts and his eyes narrow. He growls. “
Ever—
”

The innkeeper gulps and turns away from the counter. “S-so, pillows and blankets, coming right up.”

“Where can we find dinner at this hour?” Pard says.

“Next door there is a pub.”

“No pubs,” Deet says.

The innkeeper glances at the wooden-framed clock hanging on the wall. “It closes in an hour, but there is a small restaurant at the far end of the town, great food, and cheap, called Khloe’s.”

“Sounds perfect,” Miles says.

“Yes,” Tor says.

The innkeeper smiles and nods excessively. “It is, it is, Uncle Rot.” Though the man speaks while not looking at Tor and doing everything he can to avoid Tor’s gaze. He looks at Deet but addresses Tor. “How about this?” He scrolls a few words and his signature on a piece of paper and slides it across the counter toward Tor. “Give this to Khloe and it should be good for two free meals.”

Pard smiles and glances at Miles, who returns the same look, impressed that Tor’s presence is already paying dividends for their cause.

Miles leans into Pard and whispers, “On the house.”

The innkeeper plucks the last key off a wood pegboard behind him and sets it on the counter. “Room seven, up the stairs and to your right. I’ll have your room all setup for you by the time you get back from your meal.”

“Good,” Tor says, sweeping the key off the counter and handing it to Deet. He turns and strolls toward the door.

Pard smiles at the innkeeper. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sure, sure, no problem, enjoy your meal and stay warm.” He waves at Tor as Tor opens the front door and looks back at the innkeeper. “And you’ll have the best, peaceful sleep you’ve ever had, Uncle Rot, that’s the Larin Inn guarantee.”
 

With no acknowledgment or emotion, Tor exits the inn.

They head back out into the dark and well-lit street, and the cold seemingly isn’t affecting any of the festival goers, either to filled with joy or activity or ale to care much.

Miles moves with purpose, fueled by his belly speaking to him, and the rest of his body wanting to be out of the bitter wind.

Inside Khloe’s, they sit at a circular wooden table in the center of the restaurant and near the wall. Deet faces the door, and Tor sits to his left with his back against the wall, while Miles sits across from Tor, and Pard across from Deet.

A middle-aged, jolly, plump woman with rosy cheeks and a sweet demeanor waddles to their table. “Closing in thirty minutes, boys.” She sets a single menu on the table.

Miles snatches it up faster than anyone can react.

Tor gazes deep into the woman’s grey eyes, and he slightly nods once in a seductive manner. “Good evening. Khloe, I presume?”

Khloe smiles back. “Why good evening, sir, well isn’t that a deep voice you have. And yes, I’m Khloe.”

“The innkeeper gave us a note for you.” Tor extends the piece of paper to the woman.

“I see, special guests.”

Miles interjects, “I’ll have the steak, potatoes, bread and butter, hot soup, and water.”

“Good choice, dear,” Khloe says.

Miles leans forward and stares at her. “I can’t express to you the meaning of
hot
soup.”

Khloe smiles and nods. Then she transitions her attention to Pard. “For you?”

“Same thing, thanks.”

Deet nods. “I think we’ll make it easy on you and we’ll all have the same thing.”

Tor, serious, faintly winks at the woman, and she blushes.
 

“All righty then, four steaks and the works coming up in a few minutes. Anything other to drink besides water?”

Miles leans toward her. “Hot tea, very hot.”

“Me too,” Pard says.

Deet nods. “Again same for me.”

Khloe glances at Tor, and Tor slightly winks at her again. “I only require water, your beautiful presence is enough to warm me on such a bitter night.”

The woman turns away, embarrassed. “Sweet thing.”

Tor slightly leans forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Khloe.”

Khloe beams, and she taps her notepad twice. “Nice to meet you too. I’ll be right out with those steaks.” And she spins away and waddles toward the kitchen.

Miles flicks his head at Tor. “I see you’re a ladies man there, Tor. Me and Pard are too.”

Pard smiles for a second but it quickly fades as he is reminded of Selby.

Miles can see Pard stewing and attempts to brighten him up. “Hey, sorry, she’ll be all right, don’t think about it.”

Deet doesn’t look at any of them and keeps his eyes fixed on the door, ready to react if anyone unexpected barges in. “Lord Marlow’s right, best not dwell on it, kid. Only pain lies there.”

Pard looks at Deet. “The same way you dwell on it?”

Taken aback, Deet glances away from the door for a split second but doesn’t say a word.

“I see how you’re always looking at that broken watch of yours. Staring at it for minutes at a time. Sometimes I even see you smile as if you’re with someone who gives you joy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”

Pard leans toward Deet and his eyes open wider. “Don’t I?”

“Leave it lie.”

“But yet you feel you can dispense your advice on my matters of the heart.”

Deet scrunches his lips. “Yeah, you’re right, she’s dead, get used to it.”

Pard sits back in his chair but doesn’t give up. “Who was she?”

Deet continues to stare at the door with a blank expression on his face. “She was my life, and she was taken from me on my wedding day by the same types that are now hunting you. They showed her no mercy, heartless and pure evil, and she was the kindest and most beautiful creature in all of Vetlinue, and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

“I’m sorry,” Pard says.

Miles puckers his lips and nods. “Yeah, me too, tough that is.”

“Death comes to us all,” Tor says with his dry philosophy, “even to the kindest and the most beautiful.”

Deet slightly rolls his eyes and glances at Tor. “Yes, thanks, I understand that, big guy.”

“So tell me about your sister,” Pard says.

“She’s a pain in the ass who asks way too many questions and gets into way too much trouble, just like you.”

Miles laughs.

Tor scowls, not taking Deet’s meaning of his esen’er.

“Is it bad I ask too many questions?” Pard says.

“No, kid, but sometimes it’s best to leave things lie until they’re ready to come out.”

“But what if they’re never ready to come out?”
 

Deet doesn’t respond, so Pard moves away from the pocket watch and on to Preta, wanting to hear more about his seeros sister. “So she’s a pain in the ass, what else can you tell me about her?”

Deet rocks his head as he thinks on it. “She’s smart, a brilliant artist, tempered but kind, in some ways she’s beyond her years, and others, well, definitely not beyond her years, sis I’d say, she’s most definitely a pain in the ass, and I miss her and that pain everyday.”

Pard giggles. “Yeah, you already said that she was a pain.”

Deet smiles. “She’s a good girl, and she didn’t deserve to be ripped from her home and family and cast into the world alone and afraid.”