Innkeeper’s Solution

Steven Piziks

 In this world, everyone gets a familiar. Everyone.

A hawk screamed in the sky high overhead. Rab felt a pang of fear and the squirrel on his shoulder tried to hide under his wide-brimmed straw hat. Her claws pricked his skin, making him wince.

“What’s the matter?” Darek asked, glancing back at him. “You look like you’re ready to climb the nearest tree.”

fear fear fear hide hide run hide

Rab shook his head, then gently reached up and took the squirrel from his shoulder. She was a depressingly ordinary red squirrel with bright black eyes and a bushy tail. At the moment she was badly frightened.

“It’s all right, girl,” he whispered soothingly, stroking her soft coat. She was surprisingly light. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He looked up at Darek. “It’s the familiar bond. She’s scared of the hawk.”

Darek looked up at the clear blue sky and the hawk circling above them. “You watch. With my luck, I’ll get one of those for a Familiar now that you have a squirrel and we won’t even be able to stay in the same room together. If I don’t bond with the dragon, that is.”

Rab glanced uneasily at Darek, who was still staring up at the sky. The hawk circled once more, then glided out of sight. A bright sun continued beating down on the scrubby foothills, and uncertain puffs of hot air carried the smell of slowly cooking grass as they walked. Sweat trickled down Rab’s face. He was glad he had remembered to wear a hat.

Both he and Darek were just over sixteen, but that was all they had in common physically. Rab was short and stocky with dust-brown hair, muddy hazel eyes, and two front teeth that stuck out much too far for his taste. Rab had also been pudgy as a child, something adolescence had helped with but hadn’t cured entirely.

Darek, on the other hand, had skimmed through puberty with hardly a snag. His hair was so black it was almost blue, and it contrasted pleasingly with large, pale gray eyes. He was almost a head taller than Rab and his body was filling out very well after a brief bout with adolescent skinniness. His ready grin and easy laugh combined with his looks to make him popular with almost everyone in the village. Rab, however, comforted himself with the fact that catching a girl’s eye invariably made Darek blush and stammer. It was, as far as Rab was concerned, a saving grace in their relationship.

“Are you still sure you want to do this, Dare?” Rab asked, still hugging the quivering squirrel. “Trying to bond a dragon — ”

“My dad hung around a wolf’s den until he bonded Bloodtooth,” Darek said stubbornly. “The king raises griffins so his children always bond one of them. I don’t see why this is any different.”

“Yeah, but my dad says the bond is better if you just wait and let it happen. Bloodtooth is mean to almost everyone. Dad thinks it’s because the bond was forced.”

“So he should have waited for a mouse?” Darek snorted and continued up the game trail. “Waiting around is an innkeeper’s solution. It’s not mine.”

Rab opened his mouth for a sharp reply, then decided it wasn’t worth an argument and bit his tongue. The words, however, left a sour taste in his mouth as he followed Darek up the trail.

“What’s it like, Rab?” Darek asked suddenly without turning around. “Bonding, I mean.”

Rab looked down at the squirrel in his arms. She stared back at him for a moment, then squirmed away and scampered up to his shoulder, where she chattered at him and poked her warm nose into his ear. It tickled, and Rab tried not to laugh, his sour mood forgotten.

tree safe safe nice comfort tree

“She likes me,” Rab said. “I can’t describe it better than that.”

“Have you picked a name for her yet?”

“No.”

“At least you’ve got one now.” Darek picked a burr off his shoe and threw it away. “A familiar, I mean. Everyone else seems to find theirs by the time they’re fifteen. It wasn’t so bad being late because you were late, too. Now I’m the only one left except for the little kids.”

“I only got my familiar two days ago,” Rab reminded him. “You’ll bond.”

“Damn right I will.” Darek flashed a grin over his shoulder. “I’m going to bond me a dragon.”

There was that word again. Rab shivered despite the oppressive heat. “Look, Dare — we don’t even know if the cave is still there. It’s been, what, three years? There might have been a cave-in or something. And even if there hasn’t, just because Caidin says he saw a dragon in the hills doesn’t mean there is one — or that it would lair up in that old cave. You — ”

Darek rounded on him. “So that’s how it is, is it? You don’t care now that you got your familiar, do you? We’ll get back in time for your bonding celebration tonight — a big one because your dad’s the innkeeper — and I’ll have nothing. Not that my dad would care if I did come back with a familiar, even a dragon. You don’t care about me at all.”

Rab came to an indignant halt and the squirrel dug her claws into his shirt. “That’s not true and you know it,” he said hotly. “I’m out here helping you look for a familiar, aren’t I? Is it my fault I bonded before you did?”

Darek pursed his lips and looked away. “I guess not. Come on. The cave isn’t much farther.”

What’s his problem? Rab wondered as they continued climbing the trail. Is something happening at home with his dad?

Rab tried to carry on with this line of thought, but was halted by the realization that he barely knew Darek’s father, although Darek knew his. Rab and Darek spent more time around the inn than at the smithy. The few times Rab did visit, Darek’s dad invariably warned them not to get too close to the forge. And Darek’s mother wasn’t well. Hadn’t been for as long as Rab could remember. Darek said she had never really recovered from giving birth to him.

A hot wind stirred the scrubby forest and the squirrel drove her sharp little claws deeper into Rab’s shoulder. A sense of unease quietly stole over him, sending the other thoughts away.

wait wait uncertain little fear little fear

“The cave’s just up ahead.” Darek stopped and gestured. “I remember that big rock.”

“It’s awful quiet,” Rab whispered. “Have you noticed there aren’t any birds around? Or rabbits?”

Dare’s eyes shone with excitement. “I’ll bet it’s because the dragon scared them away. Let’s go!”

He slipped quietly up the trail. Rab went after him, fighting an increasing anxiety. The squirrel shifted restlessly for a moment, then suddenly bolted down his body to vanish into the undergrowth.

run hide run hide fear fear fear FEAR

For a moment Rab caught a glimpse of brown grass rushing past his nose before the safety of a tree appeared ahead. His heart was pounding hard enough to leap out of his chest, and his claws dug lightly into dry bark as he scrambled up the trunk and hid in a small hollow that smelled of damp moss and lichen.

“Hey,” Darek called in a low voice. “Are you coming or what?”

Rab blinked and the world snapped back into focus. “Weird. I was actually inside my squirrel’s head.” He turned to face Darek. “She’s scared of something, Dare. Really scared.”

Darek grinned. “I’ll bet it would be something to get inside the head of a dragon!”

The trail made a bend around the hill and passed close to a clump of bushes. Behind them, Rab could make out the dark outline of the cave’s entrance. He swallowed. Darek had found the place when they both were ten, and the two of them had spent many hours pretending they were smugglers or pirates. As they grew older, however, the games had lost their appeal. Neither he nor Darek had visited the cave in a long time.

Darek crept closer. “Look!” he hissed, pointing to the ground. Only a blind man would have missed the fact that something large had flattened the grass and gone through the bushes into the cave. The track also appeared out of nowhere, indicating that whatever made the trail could fly. As if to prove the point, a great sigh blasted from the cave’s interior with a noise ten times louder than the bellows at the village smithy. Rab’s heart began to pound again, and he could feel the squirrel shivering in her mossy hollow.

monster monster big fear hide run run run HIDE

“Dare,” Rab whispered hoarsely. “Dare, you don’t have to do this. Let’s go back. Maybe your dad’ll tell us where that den is and you can get a wolf like Bloodtooth. Or maybe that hawk we saw earlier will bond with you. Or maybe — ”

“I’m going in,” Darek whispered back. “It sounds like the dragon’s sleeping. Dad told me all about the time he bonded with Bloodtooth. He said he called to her with his mind over and over, but it didn’t work until she was asleep. I’ll have a dragon Familiar in no time at all.” A hard, determined expression set his handsome features. “Are you coming with me?”

Rab licked his lips. “I — I don’t — ”

“Fine. You wait here. That’s the innkeeper’s solution, isn’t it? Just wait for everything to come to you. I’ll do this alone.” And he was gone before Rab could reply.

Rab chewed his thumbnail, torn between fear and loyalty. Now what? What if the dragon wakes up? No one’s ever tried to bond a dragon before, let alone force-bond one. What if it doesn’t work? He glanced around nervously, as if an answer might be written on the bushes. C’mon, Rab. Dare shouldn’t be in there by himself. A real friend wouldn’t let him go in there alone. A real friend —

A loud snort broke his chain of thought. Rab froze. Not a sound emerged from the cave. Rab didn’t even dare to breathe. Then a low, throaty chuckle made the very ground tremble and Darek started to scream, a wail of bone-chilling horror.

Rab bolted. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs throbbed. Derek’s scream tore down the hill after him, shrill and terrified. Rab ran and ran, but he couldn’t outrun that scream. It wasn’t until he was halfway to the village that the horrible noise came to an end.

When he returned half an hour later with a group of frightened villagers armed with axes and pitchforks, the cave was empty.

oOo

“A toast, good innkeeper!” Red Gus called with a wave of his cup. “A toast for the young lady and her new familiar!”

Rab waved at the man, then topped another tankard from the huge barrel behind the bar and handed it to Delia, his daughter-in-law. She added it to her collection and slipped expertly into the crowd. Only then did Rab take up his customary mug of apple cider and call for quiet.

The common room fell silent. Near the fireplace, a blonde girl in her mid-teens looked expectantly at Rab and stroked the feathers of a handsome brown eagle gripping a perch hastily cobbled together from a pair of axe handles. Bonding gifts heaped one table, and the rest were crowded with partiers and well-wishers. The scent of fresh-baked breads and sweetmeats mixed with the more familiar smells of ale and woodsmoke.

“I would indeed like to call for a toast,” Rab boomed, sending a wink to the girl. “But first, I have an announcement to make.” He licked his lips, surprised at how nervous he suddenly felt. “This is my last night as innkeeper.”

A storm of startled comments arose, and Rab put up a hand to calm it.

“All right, all right. It shouldn’t be a surprise to any of you. My father left this place to me when he retired twenty-five years ago, and it’s time I left it to my son. At one time, I had thought to leave the inn to Keyne, my oldest — ” he lifted his mug to a chunky, muscular man who waved in return “ — but he wanted to be a butcher. So. Alric and Delia have been running the place in everything but name for a long time now, and I’ve already discussed it with them. The inn is theirs.”

Rab raised his cup again, this time to Alric and Delia, who joined hands and smiled self-consciously.

“As for me,” he continued, “I’m old, I’m fat, and I’m done.”

A wave of laughter and applause. Rab waited for it to die down.

“But tonight,” he said, “is Trista’s night, not mine. So I propose a toast to my eldest grandchild. May she and her new Familiar soar forever through clear blue skies. To Trista!”

“To Trista!” shouted the crowd. Cups and tankards clattered as Rab beamed at his granddaughter. She grinned at him in return.

Youth, he thought with a twinge of nostalgia. Well, I had my turn. Now it’s hers. He glanced proprietarily around the common room, already feeling like he’d lost an old friend. The stout wooden walls and scarred oaken bar had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. It’s the right choice. I get tired so easily nowadays and I know Nola’s not getting on well, though she tries to hide it. She drinks that pain tea more than is really good for her.

Shouts of laughter bubbled around a table as someone told a joke. It seemed to Rab that most of the village had decided to attend Trista’s bonding celebration. The common room was crammed with people and the rafters were positively overrun with small animals. There were no carnivores, however — Rab had a firm rule about that. Trista and her eagle, as guests of honor, were the single exception, though the huge bird was definitely making the other familiars restless. Chika, Rab’s squirrel, remained uncharacteristically quiet on her perch above the beer barrel.

uncertain uncertain hush hush hush hide

“It’s all right, girl,” Rab said, giving her a quick pat on the head. “Trista’s eagle will behave.”

Chika chattered at him, obviously unconvinced. She moved a bit stiffly now but was still as bright-eyed as the day he had bonded her over fifty years ago.

And what a day that was.

At that moment the main door opened. Rab glanced around worriedly. The inn was full to capacity and he doubted there was room for newcomers. He might have to —

The cider mug fell from his nerveless fingers and shattered with a pop on the flagstone floor. The newcomer, oblivious to Rab’s reaction, ran a nervous hand through glossy black hair and let gray eyes wander over the crowd before he headed toward a miraculously empty chair. Rab stared in disbelief, then blinked hard and looked again in case he had been mistaken. But there was no mistake. The newcomer was Darek, and he didn’t look a day over sixteen years old.

It can’t be, he thought. It can’t.

Rab shoved with single-minded determination through the common room without taking his eyes off Darek, who was staring around the inn from the vantage point of his chair.

It’s not Darek, Rab thought. It’s just a stranger with a strong resemblance. Yes, that’s it. And that means there’s no reason to talk to him, so why don’t you go back to the bar, get a drink, and go lie down?

But his legs still carried him forward, and he eventually found himself standing next to the stranger’s chair. Darek — no, the stranger — brought his head around and their eyes met. Rab swallowed. They were the same pale gray eyes he remembered.

“Are you the innkeeper?” the newcomer asked.

“Darek?” Rab blurted. “Dare?”

A moment passed while the stranger stared at Rab, who began to feel very foolish. Then the young man leaped from his chair in an attempt to bolt for the door, but Rab managed to snag his arm.

“It is you,” Rab almost hissed. “Darek Smithson.”

“Let me go,” Darek almost begged, eyes flicking about the room.

“Dare, it’s me — Rab. Don’t you recognize me?” He managed a grin. “I can’t be that fat.”

“Rab?” Darek blinked. “I — oh Gods, it really is you. No one else calls me Dare.” He sank numbly back to his chair. “I thought — I was hoping — you’d be dead by now.”

Rab licked his lips, uncertain what to say. He found his heart was pounding and there was an odd taste in his mouth.

“Is there a place we can talk — privately?” Darek asked suddenly.

Rab cocked his head toward the kitchen door. “Out back,” he said. “Follow me.”

Darek nodded and got to his feet. They made their way to the kitchen and out the back door.

This isn’t happening, Rab thought. I must have drunk some of Nola’s tea and it’s giving me strange dreams. Any moment now Darek’ll disappear and a purple horse will want to engage me in conversation. But when he glanced over his shoulder, Darek was still there.

Outside, the sun had already set and a yellow harvest moon hung heavily over the rear courtyard. The air was crisp and slightly chill after all the bodies in the common room. Voices and laughter filtered out of the inn. Rab lead Darek to a bench beneath a maple tree, noticing the youthful, flexible ease with which Darek moved. He reached out to touch the young man’s shoulder. It was warm and solid.

“I’m real, Rab,” Darek said quietly.

“Dare.” Rab found a slight catch in his voice. “Dare, what’s going on? You — you’re dead.”

“I wish I were.”

“But what happened?”

“You don’t want to know, Rab.” Darek shifted on the bench. “Gods, look at you. A grandfather, I’ll bet. And the inn is yours?”

“It was. I’m retired now.” Rab paused, then exploded into words. “Dare, what is going on? It’s been fifty years. I’m old, I have six grandchildren and some days my bones ache so much I can hardly get out of bed. Then you come sliding into my inn looking not a day older than . . . than — ” his voice dropped to a whisper “ — than the day we found the dragon.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Darek looked away.

“Dammit, Darek,” Rab almost shouted, “what happened?”

“All right, all right. Gods, I was stupid, you know?” Darek sighed and closed his eyes. “My biggest dream come true. This would show everyone, I thought, especially Dad. He used to brag all the time about how he got Bloodtooth and — Rab, are my parents still . . . ?”

Rab shook his head. “Your mother passed away about a year after — you know. Your father about fifteen, twenty years back.”

Darek looked up and nodded. “I guess I figured they’d be dead, especially Mom.” He paused.

“And the cave?” Rab prompted.

Darek shrugged. “I went inside and saw a dragon.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. Big, green, and five times as big as a horse. It — she — was asleep. I was so scared I could hardly breathe, but I called to her with my mind and put all my energy into it, like Dad said he did with Bloodtooth. Nothing happened for what felt like a long time, then she opened one eye and gave this growling kind of laugh. I almost fainted.”

“I remember that laugh,” Rab said. “I dreamed about it for months. So then what happened?”

“She took me,” Darek replied simply. “As her familiar.”

Rab stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“She took me as her familiar. I felt her mind invading mine and I couldn’t keep her out. That’s when I started to scream. I screamed until finally she ordered me to stop, and I had to. Then she told me to climb on her back. She knew you were there and that you had probably gone for help. We flew away. You can’t imagine what my life has been like since then.”

“Impossible,” Rab said flatly, not wanting to believe it. “Only humans take familiars.”

“That’s what I thought, but it’s not true. Any intelligent, thinking creature can. Did you know that there’s a kind of fish that breathes air? They take familiars, too. Smaller fish, usually.”

Rab shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench. “So how are you still so . . . so . . . “

”So young?” Darek laid his hand next to Rab’s on the bench. It was still smooth and supple in contrast to Rab’s gnarled, brown-spotted one. Rab felt a pang of jealousy. “The familiar ages at the same rate as the master. You know that. How’s your squirrel, by the way? Ever give her a name?”

“Chika,” Rab said. “It’s her favorite word. Her only word, really.”

Darek flashed his familiar grin and Rab was suddenly transported back to his youth, to when he and his best friend explored smuggler’s caves and pirate coves.

“I like it,” Darek said. “The name, I mean.”

Rab snorted. “You still say `I mean’ all the time. I’d forgotten about that.”

“Dragons don’t change much,” Darek pointed out. “Neither do their familiars.”

“But why would a dragon want a familiar?”

“I tried to commit suicide less than a month after she bonded with me,” Darek replied, ignoring the question. “I’ve tried it more times than I can count, in fact. But every time I do, she stops me. She sees everything I do, just like you can see through Chika’s eyes, and she used to know my thoughts until I learned to hide them. She can’t hear what I hear, though. Dragons are deaf, did you know that? They’re sensitive to vibrations — she felt our footsteps outside the cave long before I even came in — but they can’t hear. They can’t even understand the concept. Of hearing, I mean.”

Rab nodded. “Interesting.” Then he fixed Darek with his best grandfather stare. “But you changed the subject. Keyne, my oldest son, used to do the same thing when he was your . . . when he was young. Why would a dragon want a familiar?”

Darek looked away again. “Scouting.”

“Scouting?” A cold tension stole over Rab.

“Listen, all humans — and a few other creatures — have an inner spark of magic, right?” He held up a hand when Rab started to interject. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m explaining. Anyway, it’s what lets us bond with a familiar. The spark, I mean. Except dragons don’t have one. They get their power by eating creatures that do. Humans, especially.”

A chilly breeze wafted by, and Rab shivered. He watched in silence as Darek got up and restlessly paced the courtyard. Chika slipped out of a little opening Rab had made for her in the kitchen door and climbed up to Rab’s shoulder. He scarcely felt the familiar pricking of her claws or her warm, light weight on his shoulder. Darek didn’t seem to notice her at all.

“The problem is that humans are dangerous,” he continued. “You’ve heard stories of the hero who slays a dragon or of armies that bring one down? A lot of them are true — humans are both predator and prey. So when my Mistress needs more power, she has to make sure it’s safe to attack. You know — no armies within shouting distance, no warriors who could ride to the rescue. She likes small towns or villages best.”

“No,” Rab whispered.

Darek looked unhappily at the old innkeeper. “Yes. She’s looking at this village — my home village. She sent me to see what the defenses are like. So far, I haven’t seen anything that could stop her.”

“Can’t you reason with her?” Rab said hoarsely. “Get her to look somewhere else?”

Darek shook his head. “Would you listen to Chika if she tried to persuade you not to chop down a certain tree when you needed it for firewood?”

“I can’t imagine her even trying.”

“Exactly.” Darek stopped pacing and suddenly knelt in front of Rab, who felt something cold and hard slip into his hand. Rab glanced down. The object was a knife. “Rab, are you still my friend?”

Rab looked at him, bewildered. “Of course I am.”

“Then help me,” Darek pleaded. “And help yourself.”

“What?”

“It’s the only way to save the village,” Darek said. He got up again, leaving the knife in Rab’s hand. “My mistress got into a hoard-fight once with another dragon that had a familiar, a kid maybe ten years old. My mistress breathed fire on him. The kid, I mean.” He laughed, a dry sound that reminded Rab of dead sticks. “You probably thought my screaming was bad. Anyway, when its familiar died, the other dragon just fell flat on its face, stunned. My mistress didn’t kill it — she said they don’t do that — but it took me two days to gather up all its treasure. It didn’t move once in all that time.” He sat down on the bench with his back to Rab. “The familiar’s death is the master’s wound. You know that.”

Rab looked at the knife in his brown-spotted hand, then at Darek’s back. “I can’t.”

Darek turned and looked at him with pleading gray eyes. “Please, Rab. I’ve seen death and other more horrible things and it’s not ever going to stop. I asked my mistress once how long dragons live. She just looked up at the sky and said, `When the sun stops rising, that day I will stop living.’”

“But . . . but she’ll see me and make you stop me,” Rab hedged. “Isn’t she watching right now?”

Darek shrugged. “Probably. But she can’t hear us. All she can see is that I’m talking to an old man. She’s intrigued by the human need for talk, but in a few minutes she’ll get bored and order me to do something else. That’s why you have to move now. I’ll turn my back so she can’t see.” He did so, and Rab looked down at the knife in his hand.

“I can’t do this, Dare,” he said, setting the knife on the bench.

Darek jumped up and rounded on him. “No, of course you can’t,” he snarled. “Innkeeper’s solution — just sit and wait until it’s too late. Remember that?”

The old words stung and Rab clenched a fist. “I remember capturing a squirrel,” he snapped, “instead of being captured by a dragon.”

The blood drained from Darek’s face. He stared at Rab for a moment, then sagged down to the far end of the bench, head bowed. Chika’s sharp ears picked up a faint, irregular tapping, and Rab realized that tears were hitting the wooden bench. Rab’s brief flare of anger faded and he felt instantly sorry.

“Dare,” he said, putting a quiet hand on Darek’s shoulder. “Dare, I didn’t mean that.”

“I’ve been sixteen my whole life,” Darek said. His voice was thick and uneven. “I never have anyone to talk to. I’m alone every day, except for her.” He looked up at Rab and swiped at the saltwater on his face. “Help me, Rab. And help the village. It used to be my home too. I don’t want to watch her burn it down and make me sift through the wreckage for coins while she tears up the corpses. Please, Rab. She’s even hiding in the same cave as before, so it’ll be easy to find her once you’ve helped me.”

Rab struggled to his feet. Chika still clung to his shoulder. “I need time to think, Dare. Please understand. I’ll be . . . I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take too long,” Darek called after him softly. “She’s hungry. And she’ll feed tonight.”

Rab headed for the back door. I’m old, dammit. The younger ones should deal with this. This isn’t fair. He almost ran into the kitchen, trying to get away from Darek, wanting to immerse himself in something normal, something familiar.

When he entered the kitchen, the noise level from the common room told Rab the party was still in full swing, though the cookroom itself was quiet. It smelled of onions and bread dough, and the old flagstones were smooth under Rab’s feet. Heat left from the day’s baking soaked into his bones, but it didn’t soften his brittle nerves. He suddenly realized how happy he had been just a few moments ago. Now he only felt scared. Scared and alone while other people enjoyed themselves.

Is this how Darek feels? he thought. Is this what the last fifty years have been like for him?

“Trista’s so happy,” said a voice. “And so proud. An eagle!”

Rab turned and saw Nola resting on a stool near the fireplace. Her Familiar, an aging gray cat, gazed into the dying coals.

“Yes,” Rab said absently. “So proud.” For a moment he considered telling Nola everything, wanted to tell her everything. But she wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure he did. He tried to imagine thrusting a knife into Darek’s back, feeling the warm blood gush over his hands.

Keyne does it a dozen times a day to animals that don’t want to die, while Dare is looking for death. He shuddered. I still can’t. But if I don’t, that dragon is going to slaughter us all. Me, Nola, Trista. Everyone.

“I think I’m going to bed,” Nola continued. She gestured at a cup lying next to a small herb packet on a nearby table. “I had to take my pain tea and it’s making me sleepy.”

Rab came over to her and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, feeling a sudden, familiar swell of love. She had always been there for him. Chika clambered down his arm to the table and sniffed animatedly at the herb packet. “Then good night. I’ll be in later.”

He gave her a hand up, but Nola waved away further help and limped slowly toward their bedroom, a pantry they had converted when it became clear that Nola could no longer manage the stairs. Rab watched her go.

At that moment, Trista’s eagle screamed, a high, free sound. Chika froze in fear on the table.

danger danger danger hide hide hide

“It’s all right, girl,” he said, picking her up and stroking her soft coat. “Everything’s going to be fine.” Except it isn’t, because I can’t kill my best friend.

Rab glanced into the common room full of friends and family, then set Chika back on the table. As he did so, his hand brushed the herb packet and knocked it to the floor. He stared at it for a long time, then glanced into the common room again.

But maybe I can give him what he wants.

A few minutes later he was back outside with a mug of heated cider in each hand and Chika on his shoulder. Darek was still sitting on the bench.

“Have you decided?” Darek asked hopefully.

Dammit, I look at him and could swear I was sixteen again. “I thought you might like a drink. It’s getting chilly.”

“What is it?”

Rab drew back his lips in a half-smile. “It’s an old family recipe. We call it Innkeeper’s Solution.”

Darek looked at him for several moments, then accepted the cup and drained it in one draught while Rab took a sip from his. The cider tasted strongly of cinnamon but left a bitter aftertaste. An owl hooted in the background and Darek set his mug aside.

“My dad hated me,” Darek said. “Did you know that? He blamed me because Mom was always sick. I guess I should feel sad that they’re both dead, but I don’t. We weren’t really a family.” He yawned cavernously, then looked at Rab. “I want to know about your family, Rab. Who they are, what they’re like. Would you tell me?”

“If you want.”

“Yes.”

“All right, then.” Rab looked at the sky over Darek’s head. The stars were coming out in hard, bright points. “I met Nola — my wife — when she came to the inn asking my father for a job.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Darek’s eyes droop. “I was eighteen then, almost two years after the incident at the cave.”

Darek’s shoulders went limp. Rab took another sip of warm, bitter cider.

“Nola was — is — beautiful, and it was more than a month before I could screw up the courage to talk to her. A year later, I screwed up the courage to ask her to marry me.”

The owl hooted again. Rab kept talking, talking about his wedding and Keyne’s birth and the year Alric almost ran away from home, until Darek slumped sideways and slid bonelessly off the bench. His breathing slowed, became ragged, then stopped altogether.

A lump rose in Rab’s throat. His voice broke and the narrative trailed off. He looked down at Darek for a long moment, then bent over with creaking joints and gently rearranged Darek’s limbs. Again, Chika’s sensitive ears caught the irregular tapping of tears, though now they were dropping on courtyard stones. She poked her soft nose into Rab’s ear and snuffled softly, echoing the sorrow he felt, though Rab knew she didn’t understand it.

Rab sighed and touched Darek’s smooth cheek with one gnarled finger. Why are you crying now, old man? he thought, brushing the tears away. Dare died over fifty years ago. You both know that.

He straightened and sent a quick glance toward the hills before going back inside to find Keyne. Tonight the innkeeper’s solution would need some help from the butcher.

The End

Copyright © by Steven Piziks