Abbadon XV

The light was rapidly fading as they left the track that had lead them over the mountains for the wider road that led into the small desert outpost of Mjijangwa. They had taken the quickest route through the mountains rather than the wider and better-traveled trade route in an effort to keep the princess safe. The further they traveled away from the Kingdom of Zion without the whereabouts of Eluned being known, the safer they would be.

She had been so protected during her childhood that very few were aware of her appearance other than the fact that she was rumored to be quite beautiful.

Jabberwock glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. Yes, definitely still beautiful but the reddened and chapped cheeks, constantly dripping nose and shuffling walk would, at first, earn her nothing more than a passing glance from the ill-mannered types they were likely to find in this trade station.

But once she’d had a bath and warmed up . . . he sighed, loudly, and Bonpo and Eluned, each ruminating on their own worries, sighed in response.

As they approached the inn, they saw the torches being lit to ward off the coming darkness. Their pace picked up a bit and as the last torch was ignited, it was as if the sun’s fading red light was snuffed out as surely as a candle.

They hobbled the last fifty yards to the inn in darkness and the dim light provided by the torches. Soon the moon would be up and the sandy soil would reflect some of its light back toward it, but as yet they could keep their eyes only on the beckoning flames.

Eluned shivered suddenly as the thought crossed her mind, “come toward the light.” Images of death and destruction and the open gates of Heaven followed and she shivered again.

“Are you all right,” Jabberwock asked, his forehead creased in worry.

“It’s nothing,” she assured him. “A rabbit just ran over my grave.”

“You do realize I’ll be unable to speak publicly while we’re here,” he whispered as they neared the steps.

“Again?”

“Too dangerous.”

She cursed under her breath. Hopefully, between herself and Bonpo, they would be able to speak to the proprietor. Her Draconian was rusty. If she were lucky, whoever they needed to arrange rooms with would speak Zionese. After all, it bordered Draconia and this was an inn on the western trade route.

She glanced up as she mounted the stairs and saw the first star of the evening shimmer into view. “Star light, star bright,” she began to whisper.

“Planet,” Jabberwock coughed as they crossed the porch to the wide door of the inn.

“So much for luck,” the Princess sighed.

Bonpo heaved open the heavy door and they stepped into a wide hallway that led to a larger room with a fire roaring in a huge stone fireplace and well worn tables scattered about the room. Three men with weather beaten faces sat at one of the tables nursing their ales or wines or whiskeys. They barely looked up as the odd trio entered.

A single man sat at a smaller table on the far side of the room and close to the fire staring into the wildly dancing flames. If he noticed them, he didn’t show it.

Eluned looked around with trepidation. Certainly she hadn’t been expecting a warm reception like the one she’d received the first night of her trip at the Golden Phoenix (not that she’d noticed any gold at that particular inn but the badly peeling paint that highlighted the mythic bird on the inn’s sign, she mused). Nor was this quite as bad as the fear she felt upon first entering Crossroads Inn (‘how imaginative, Bonpo, ‘she chided him in her head). But this utter indifference . . .

“Ello?” Bonpo suddenly shouted, voice booming. One of the men at the nearer table jumped and sloshed his ale. His two friends began ribbing him for it but continued to disregard Eluned and her companions.

A door opened behind him, and a cranky looking man with a shock of black hair, the front tumbling into his eyes but the rest pulled away from his face with a dirty piece of cord stepped into the room wiping his hands on an even dirtier towel.

He grunted something that could have meant “what the hell do you want?” but neither Eluned nor Bonpo recognized the language, only the intonation.

“We need a couple of rooms,” Eluned began in her native language.

The man stared at her, uncomprehendingly.

She tried again in her broken Draconian. But, he continued to shake his head. Her Adenese was much better and she attempted that.

He said something in his language and it was Eluned’s turn to shake her head in incomprehension. She looked to Bonpo and he tried his Dzironese.

Still nothing. Damn, Eluned found herself cursing under her breath yet again, what language did this fellow speak and what the hell was he doing working at a trade route inn if he couldn’t understand any of the languages that she and Bonpo spoke.

Jabberwock looked amazingly unperturbed.

“Excuse me,” she spoke to the three men at the table, but they just shrugged their shoulders and looked down at the table. She wanted to cry. All she needed was a clean room, a bath and some real food and she might start feeling human again, but instead she was stuck with someone who obviously worked in the kitchen and hadn’t dealt much with travelers.

She turned toward the man who was still gazing unseeingly into the fire. He seemed unaware of what was going on. She took a deep breath and began to walk toward him.

“Excuse me,” she said when she was a few feet away.

Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze away from the fire. He raised his eyebrows, questioningly.

“Do you speak Zionese?” He nodded in reply and she nearly wept in relief. She had to bite her lower lip to stop the flood that threatened to issue forth from her tear ducts.

“You don’t, perchance, also speak whatever language this fellow is speaking?” she asked, indicating the cook or dishwasher or whatever he was.

“Annewvenese?” he finally spoke, standing. The hood that had been covering his head slipped away and she was pleasantly surprised to find a nice looking young man staring down at her with clear hazel eyes.

“Is that what it is?” she found herself blushing, much to her chagrin. The way he was looking at her made her feel very uncomfortable. He was tall, more than six feet, she was sure of it. His hair tumbled to his shoulders in dark brown waves and there was a mysterious glint in his eyes she couldn’t identify. She wasn’t sure because of his facial hair, but was that a dimple at the corner of his mouth? He seemed to be studying her with secret amusement.

“Yes, Annewvenese.”

“Could you please help us? We need a couple of rooms and,” she stuttered to a halt as she saw his face harden. “What?”

“A couple of rooms?”

She was confused. “One for myself and one for Bonpo. I don’t understand?”

“That’s not your husband?”

“Hus…?” she nearly guffawed, but clapped a hand over her mouth, coughing instead.

“A guide then?” but he said it in such an insinuating tone that she found her self outraged when she realized what he was implying. Cheeks flaring and fists clenched, she wanted to stomp off and sleep on the porch. She didn’t have to put up with that! She was a princess! But, one of the reasons she was on this so-called adventure was to live life like a “real” person. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

Exhaling, she said, quietly but coldly, “My guide, yes, and cook. And bodyguard,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

He laughed out loud at that, but added, “so, you’re traveling alone, so to speak, with a guide who doesn’t speak anything but Dzironese and Zionese?”

She looked down at the snow-stained and soaking tips of her suede boots. The truth was, she had thought the Bandersnatch would be responsible for all that. She supposed that in the eyes of a stranger, their little trio seemed particularly odd. Thank Omni for Bonpo, the thought chilled her to the bone. If it hadn’t been for the giant, she would appear to be insane traveling alone in this day and age with nothing but a small and wiry “dog” to protect her.

There was no way to explain her situation to him without telling him the truth. Or, alternately, without coming up with a cover story first. Blast that little Bandersnatch for not thinking about this ahead of time. She glanced over at him and was shocked to see him with a smirk on his face. Her eyes widened.

“You little jerk,” she started to say, but then realized her mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she continued, bending over to pat the top of his head.

Then to man she still hoped would help them, “I thought my dog,” a sliding glance at Jabberwock and she was happy to note the disappearance of the smirk, “was crouching to relieve himself.”

“He’s not house broken?”

“Oh, yes, quite, but we’ve had such an exhausting trip over the mountains, I thought he might have forgotten himself.”

“You came over the mountains?”

“Yes, and the last two days in nothing but snow and cold.” She suddenly swayed and the young man reached out a hand to steady her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, worriedly.

“Just oh so very tired,” she said as the exhaustion of the past few days finally caught up with her.

Bonpo pulled up a chair and gently pushed her into it.

The scullion, if that’s what he was, said something unintelligible.

The young man answered in the same language. The scullion disappeared behind another door.

Eluned gazed at the young man, hopefully.

“He’s gone to get you keys for your room,” he said, flatly. Eluned pushed herself out of the chair and stood up, extending her hand.

“I’m Eluned,” she said as he took her small hand into his grasp. “And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“Gwrhyr,” he said, squeezing her hand, gently. “And I intend to discuss this more tomorrow. Understood?” His hazel eyes, looking more blue than green, bored into hers.

“I promise,” she said, collapsing back into the chair.

The scullion returned with the keys and Gwrhyr instructed him to have meals sent up to their rooms and a warm bath drawn for the woman.

“And make sure they are not disturbed before noon,” he added.