Part of the beginning of a longer story, Master of the Dungeon.
This is early Chapter 1, preceded by The Consumer (1), followed by: The Archer and the Blacksmith (1)
Not long before she met the Queen of Eastoria, Sorcha sat on a bar stool surrounded by friends, only a few miles from the kingdom’s southern border, and the unforgiving wild forest beyond. She always felt drawn back to this place as the seasons shifted, and this was where her visiting friend had agreed to meet in person. Then again, the Angry Goose was the only pub in the county.
“Four bowls and two pitchers will already run you four Kings,” said the pleasant bartender, Lendry. He had introduced himself so many times that she wondered why his name was not written on his shirt pocket. His attention turned to Gris briefly, as he asked, “Would you like to pay for a third now?”
Sorcha had barely touched her mug, after it was clear that the beer was going sour in the cask. Luckily, the stew was nice. The animals on the pastures to the north were happy; the vegetables and herbs had been fresh.
Aeron had wolfed down his meal, gotten restless immediately, and had decided to work the crowd. She found him sitting at one of the small tables along the wall, chatting with a farmer. No, she thought, not needing to focus too deeply to correct herself. That man raises horses.
Gris sat at her side next to Aeron’s empty stool, inspecting his fingernails. His bowl was clean., and he had asked for more dark bread several times, to better wash down most of both pitchers. When he said nothing, Sorcha projected satiation and compliments to the chef, the man still patiently standing in front of her from the business side of the bar. She said, “I think we are fine, thank you, Lendry.” She placed four gold coins on the bar. Gris counted on both hands and made a tidy pile of copper.
Walda, the blond woman on the other side of Sorcha, nodded her head. She was the tallest in the group, often mistaken for an elf. Sorcha was the only living being that knew the truth.
“The pleasure is mine,” said Lendry, scooping coins into a leather bag tied to his waist. Sorcha sensed that he had a few marks, likely from his slightly dangerous line of work, but no black marks. Still, that meant he had stories to tell, someday.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Sorcha, sending a little nudge that this was fine. “Has the tourist in the corner been waiting all day?”
“He arrived with the first coach this morning, miss.” Lendry turned to the only patron seated at the back bar. “I should check on him.”
As Lendry wandered off, Walda asked, “Does he appear as you expected?”
“Yes, that’s him. There is no way to disguise yourself in the Aether.” Sorcha glanced over again. He was dressed in an entirely foreign fashion. His cloak looked like he had stuck his head through a hole in the middle of a multi-colored floor rug. Large dark eyeglasses hid his eyes below a wide-brimmed hat. But, unquestionably, he was the one she had invited here. Then again, she had only encountered three beings in the Aether.
“That’s not what I was asking,” said Walda.
Sorcha focused differently, assessing his aura. He had two black marks, but she already knew that. They had spent countless nights together, discussing those events in the Aether. In person for the first time, he was far from the open book of Aeron’s horse wrangler, guarding his mind well. Sorcha turned to Walda and asked, “What are you expecting me to be expecting?”
Gris belched. “Excuse me. I like beer, but I could use a little clean water running from pipes, and a nap before breakfast.”
Walda sighed. “I do miss feather pillows.”
Sorcha smiled. “You two deserve some proper rest tonight. Go on ahead. I will be fine.”
Aeron tapped on Sorcha’s shoulder as Walda and Gris meandered to the stairs together. The group had rented three rooms for the night. He said, “Hey, boss.”
“Aeron, you are an equal partner with the rest of us. You understand that, right?”
“Sorcha,” he said. Aeron was bouncing on his feet again. “I have been with you guys now for almost five months, right?”
“Yes?”
“Those two? Are they, like, together?”
Sorcha laughed. “No! Think of them as more like siblings.”
“Okay! Hey, the locals say something is eating their chickens. Can I go on patrol tonight?”
“Sure. Near the horse pasture?” she asked.
Aeron grinned. “I should also check the goat farms.”
The kid really needed any sort of guidance, and making this a job that benefited the group had been one of her better ideas lately. Aeron remained convinced such corporeal changes were possible because Sorcha made it happen. She examined his aura in full again, human with just the right amount of fae threaded through his family tree. No black marks. “If you want to patrol in this town, I suggest a cat this time.” Populated places like this responded poorly when people saw Aeron running around in his preferred form.
“Good idea. I figured I would start in the barns next door, anyway. What about Mr. Giggles?”
Sorcha checked the corner of the room with the deepest shadow. “I know he answers to many names, but you are probably lucky that he didn’t hear that one. He’s sleeping.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that he did that.”
“It is a little like sleeping.” Sorcha shrugged. “I will let him know that you said hello.”
Aeron clapped his hands together. “Okay! Enjoy your date,” he said, nearly jogging out of the pub.
Sorcha blinked and looked across the bar again. Lendry was gone, too. And, the man in the hat was standing up.
Crap. Was this a date?
Part of the beginning of a longer story, Master of the Dungeon.
This is early Chapter 1, preceded by The Consumer (1), followed by: The Archer and the Blacksmith (1)