The Rowan and Amethyst Chronicles

They reached the town of Seletre close to 3 in the afternoon of the next day. Syra almost collapsed with relief to see it. There was a trading post, a market, two inns, a blacksmith shop, a lumber store, several saloons and a courthouse, among various homes and others small shops. Seletre, like many of the towns along the Gem Road, was considered neutral ground when the Gem Kingdoms were concerned. No kingdom owned the town, and it catered to all people, even to fae folk like herself, so long as they remained conspicuous. Zar pulled the hood of her cloak up over her face before they got into town. Better if no one saw her face too closely. She spotted a pawn shop on a corner and pointed it out to Syra.

“We can sell your jewelry there. Then you’ll have enough coin to send a letter and get a room. The post office is there,” she added, indicating a small whitewashed building.

The pawn shop was run by an older man who looked honest enough. He didn’t look particularly enthusiastic to be trading with a fae, but perked up considerably when Syra showed him her jewelry.

“I’ll give ye ten for the necklace, three for the anklet,” he began, glaring at the pair of them.

“No way,” Zar scoffed, seizing back the necklace before Syra could speak. “These are cut quartz, worth at least five apiece. You can have it for thirty, or we’ll find someone else.”

The man glowered at her. “Thirty and you throw in the silver,” he said, eyeing the anklet.

“This was forged in Melnore my friend, it is no simple trinket. Pure silver and the workmanship is impeccable. I’ll take forty for the both of them.”

The man eyed her unhappily for a few minutes and then passed over the coin. Zar dumped the silvers into Syra’s hands.

“There you go. You’ll be alright now. Just send a letter to Melnore, and you’ll be home before you know it.”

She extended her hand in an intended farewell, but Syra seized it and placed something in it instead. Zar opened her palm to find ten silver pieces.

“Please, stay with me until an envoy comes for me. I-I can’t stand the idea of being alone here. Please!”

Zar stared at the coin and then back at the girl. She hadn’t expected this. She held her hand back out to Syra. “I must be moving on. I can’t accept this.”

Instead of taking the coin back, Syra dumped ten more pieces into her palm. “Please,” she beseeched, tears forming in her eyes. “I’ll make you a promise as well. My father will pay you ten times this when I return home. On my honor I’ll be sure you receive the coin for helping me. Consider myself in your debt. I pledge to you now you shall be reimbursed. Please!”

Zar took a deep breath and then passed the coin back to the girl. Syra looked stricken. Zar closed her eyes for a second and then said, “you’ll need every coin you have, my lady. I’ll give you this as a loan for both our sakes. We’ll need the cheapest room available and parchment and ink, as well as the coin to post the letter. I’m not staying more than a few days, mind you.”

Syra gazed at her in rapture and took her hand in gratitude. Zar flinched but accepted the gesture. They headed towards the shabbier looking of the two inns. “The Bright Wing,” Syra read aloud of the sign out front. “Do you know this place?”

“I don’t usually stay in this sort of…establishment,” Zar replied shortly.

They headed inside. The matron was a large ruddy woman with a face like an ox.

“One room please,” Syra ordered uncertainly. Zar, kept behind her, trying not to show much of her face. She examined the interior of the inn. The common room was sparsely populated at this early hour. It was hard to tell the sort that were staying here. A few merchants and travelers, it appeared.

“Two beds, 10 for a night. One bed 7 for a night,” the woman explained, leering at them.

“One bed,” Syra requested.

The woman eyed her coolly. “7 for the night, 9 for adding a meal, 10 for adding a meal and a bath,” she said, glaring over Syra’s shoulder at Zar. But she didn’t refuse them service. “You pay each new day at noon. Understand?”

Syra laid ten of the precious coins on the counter. The woman seized and inspected them, as though expecting forgeries.

“You follow her,” she said and barked at another much younger girl who had just entered the common room.

The young girl led them to their room. It was just off the common room, a tiny room with barely space to move around in. The girl handed them a room key two meal coupons and two bath tokens. They went inside and Zar closed the door behind them after a brief pause. She felt an immediate sense of claustrophobia as she always did when she was in a closed room. But it passed after a few seconds.

“You didn’t need to pay the extra coins for the food and bath,” she said in irritation after she was able to breathe properly again. “Every coin is valuable.”

“Oh trust me, I did,” Syra retorted, staring down at herself and grimacing.

Zar glared at her for a moment and then glanced around their lodgings. “I’ll take the floor,” she said upon seeing the single bed.

“We could both fit,” Syra said uncertainly, glancing at the bed.

“Not likely. You sleep like a hurricane,” Zar commented, examining the bare hard piece of wood flooring that would be her place.

“I do better when there aren’t tree roots in my back,” Syra exclaimed and then, to Zar’s surprise, she burst out laughing. Zar smirked despite herself.

They headed down to eat a meal in the common room. It was crowded and stuffy but the food was hot and plentiful. It was a soup of some variety, and both had second helpings. Zar kept her hood up. She had discarded her bow and arrows but she kept her antler scimitar at her side. Most of the patrons were male, travelers by the looks of them. They were hard men, merchants, workers, caravaners and a few soldiers.

Syra purchased parchment and a quill for a silver from the front desk and scrawled out her letter. Zar grew uncomfortable with the number of looks that Syra was unknowingly eliciting. Despite her unsightly garb, her good looks were drawing far too much attention. She therefore rushed the end of their meal and dragged them off to the posthouse rapidly, where Syra was able to seal and post her letter to her family. Then they headed to the bathhouse.

The baths were prepared in large wooden tubs, side by side. Zar stared at the setup and then looked at Syra, who was clearly uncertain. Noble women were very conscious of nudity, she had heard. Luckily they were the only two in the room.

“I’ll guard the door, you get in first,” she recommended and took up a post at the door with her back firmly turned.

She heard the sound of clothes being removed and a splash as Syra entered her bath.

“Oh my god it’s so hot,” Syra exclaimed. “But it feels great. You have to try this.”

Zar turned and saw the Syra was submerged up to her neck. She hurried to her own bath and removed her clothes unceremoniously. People of her country cared not for modesty. Syra turned her face away none the less. When Zar had entered her bath, she finally looked around again.

“You can’t tell me that doesn’t feel good,” she said, smirking at Zar’s blatant expression of joy.

“It’s pretty good,” Zar admitted, soaking in the heat. She had immediately started to sweat, but she savored the sensation. Her sore muscles felt like they were unwinding and relaxing.

“I haven’t had a bath for months,” she informed Syra, feeling a bit woozy already from the heat.

“Months!” Syra said in complete outrage. “How can you stand that?”

“Well I bathe in the rivers, I’m not a heathen,” Zar defended, shaking her head. “Just haven’t had anything warm for a while.” She felt light as though she had drink in her. Her tongue had loosened of its own accord.

“In Melnore, there are hot springs. My father owns one. We used to bathe every evening in the winter. Sometimes it would be snowing. You’d get out of the spring and there would be a foot of snow on the ground. In the summer, we would dare each other how long we could stay in.”

Zar leaned back in extasy, not even annoyed that Syra was babbling on about her homeland. After a moment, the girl fell silent.

“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like stories,” Syra said, glancing over at her.

Zar didn’t reply, merely submerged her whole head in the water. She came up spluttering and Syra laughed. She glanced over. The girl was rosy cheeked and her hair was damp. She looked as though she had not a care in the world. Zar looked away quickly and felt a dizzying sensation.

“I have to get out,” she said and with some effort lifted herself from the molten liquid.

“But you haven’t even washed yet!” Syra insisted, pointed at a bar of soap that was next to her tub.

“Later,” Zar mumbled. She glanced back at Syra as she lifted her clothes from the floor. The girl was staring at her with wide eyes, clearly taking in her nudity.

“What, never seen a naked women before?” she slurred, raising an eyebrow.

Syra looked away quickly. “My apologies,” she said. “It’s just you’re so different than me.”

Zar snorted. More than you know, she thought, but she didn’t allow her guard to drop so far as to say something rash like that.

Syra was frowning. “Get back in the tub,” she ordered and to Zar’s distinct surprise, she did as she was told as Syra handed her the soap and the scrub brush.