By the time we have been walking toward Brackenford for several days, I am praying to Elandra more often than usual. I prayed for patience. Not for myself, of course. That would be selfish.
I pray that patience may descend upon Juria and Claudemund like a gentle, luminous veil—hopefully one thick enough to muffle them both. Perhaps choke them a little… Mercifully.
Their arguments are not constant which made them more difficult for me to endure. They erupt in short bursts followed by long silences that stretched on longer than the words themselves.
A correction from Juria. A defensive answer from Claudemund. A question asked too bluntly.
Then the road would go quiet again.
Merciful Elandra, guide my tongue before I use it poorly.
Unfortunately, Elandra remains silent. A bright bird briefly crosses overhead before disappearing. That is answer enough for some things. For this, I would have preferred instructions.
When Brackenford finally receives us with mud, smoke, and staring… A lot of staring. Though, I have to admit, after many days on the road, this is close enough to paradise. I kept my hands around the strap of my satchel and walked with what is expected of a cleric of Elandra. This was fortunate, because people were already looking.
First at Juria. They always looked at Juria first. Her horns made discretion difficult for the public. Then at me. My ears, my hair, my robes, the elven features that marked me as something old and foreign. Then, inevitably, at Claudemund and her metal llama.
We continued along the street until we've reached the Gored Boar Tavern.
"There," Claudemund said, lifting her chin. "We rest there."
After our agreement that Juria and I will be staying in Brackenford for a short time, Claudemund stepped forward before either of us could say more. She grasps the handle of the tall, iron-banded tavern door. Its tall and dark presence suggesting it could withstand a siege or at least a particularly determined drunkard.
Claudemund took the handle with both hands.
Pulled.
Nothing happened.
She pulled again.
A small, insulting creak from the door made her face tighten. I watched her inhale through her nose with the focus of a woman preparing to declare war upon it.
Lady Elandra, grant her strength, dignity, and perhaps a door better suited to her height.
Before divine intervention could arrive, Juria sighed.
"For fuck's sake."
Reaching past Claudemund, Juria planted a hand against the door and shoved. It swung inwards, and Claudemund, still clutching the handle, followed. She stumbled forward with a strangled sound, arms flailing once before she half-fell over the threshold and caught herself on one knee inside the tavern.
Warmth spilled out around her. So did the smell of ale, smoked wood, old floors, and the startled silence of several patrons who had just watched a small woman be delivered into their establishment by a door. Once again, I folded my hands.
Oh Elandra, thank you for delivering Claudemund safely into shelter. Next time, if it pleases you, perhaps use gentler methods.
Claudemund pushed herself upright enough to twist back toward Juria. Her face had gone red. "What the fuck was that for?"
Juria flashed a winning smile. "I enjoy your swearing," she admitted. "It sounds terrifying yet I can't take you seriously."
Claudemund rose very quickly. Her hand curled into a fist and I saw the clear intention to swing it somewhere near Juria's stomach. I step forward to stop her, but before I can speak, a voice booms through the tavern.
"Oi. If you're planning to knock each other's teeth out, do it outside."
We all turn. Behind the counter stands a broad woman with iron-grey hair braided over one shoulder, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and the expression of a hardened tavern keeper who had seen every kind of nonsense travellers could bring through a door. Her arms were strong and the towel in her hand looked as if it had been twisted to death many times before.
She glanced between Juria, Claudemund and me before fixing her gaze on the door. "That hinge is new…" she said. "And the tables are expensive. Windows are even worse. If you break something, I'll have to beat the shite out of you and take your coin."
Juria lowered her hands and Claudemund instantly straightened, as if someone had pulled an invisible string through her spine. The change was remarkable. One breath ago, she had been a furious woman preparing to commit violence but now she looked almost respectable— almost! Brushing dirt from her cape, she lifted her chin and crossed the room purposefully towards the tavern keeper.
"A room, please," Claudemund said. "The best you've got."
I felt my lips press together at the absurdity of Claudemund unfolding in front of me.
Do not laugh, Luna.
"The best I've got," the tavern keeper repeated.
"Yes," Claudemund said, cupping her hands together.
The tavern keeper leaned her hip against the counter. "Name's Marna Vale. I own this place, though some days it feels the other way around." She glanced at the newly repaired hinge with a weary frown. "The council's taken a liking to that new inn across town. Meanwhile, every chair, shutter, and roof tile in this old beast seems determined to bankrupt me. And before I give you anything, I need to know whether the three of you are paying customers or the beginning of a very expensive evening."
Claudemund opened her mouth but Juria interrupted, "ah, ah!" Before either could worsen the situation beyond repair, I stepped forward.
"We are paying customers who just happened to be tired and hungry from a long journey," I said gently. "And, with Elandra's grace, peaceful customers."
"With whose grace?" Marna asked, confused.
"Elandra," I said.
"Does Elandra pay for smashed up furniture?"
"No, at least not traditionally."
"Then keep praying."
"I have been," I said.
Elandra, if you are with me right now, I would like to amend my previous requests. Not for strength—please, not strength. Do not grant me strength. I have seen what happens when you grant that. Instead, perhaps a modest increase in patience for myself. A very modest increase to survive the next hour without committing a regrettable act of divine irony.
Marna looked at Juria and Claudemund again. "So I see."
Claudemund cleared her throat, still struggling to regain her dignity. "As I said, a room. The best available. And food, please."
"Coin first," Marna said, holding out her hand.
Claudemund reached for her satchel with a wide smile but Juria's hand shot out and caught her wrist. Claudemund froze. So did I.
"Not the gold, idiot," Juria whispered, leaning in close though not quietly enough for me to hear.
"Fuck off, I know that," Claudemund hissed, her cheerful expression quickly turning into a frown.
"Do you?"
"Yes."
As Marna watched the two bicker as Juria refused to release Claudemund's wrist. Looking upwards, I couldn't see the sky through the tavern roof but I trusted Elandra understood the direction of my appeal.
Elandra, if this is still your test, I humbly submit that it is becoming quite elaborate.
Claudemund carefully withdrew three small copper coins from her satchel and placed them on the counter. Marna swept the coppers into her palm and leaned over the counter.
"That covers food," she said. "Not the room."
Claudemund's expression was one of genuine surprise. I watched as her face spiralled into confusion, like the words had simply entered her ears and found no proper place to settle, now wandering helplessly through her thoughts.
"I beg your pardon?" Claudemund frowned. Juria shut her eyes while I felt, in that moment, the first delicate tremor of warning in my spirit.
"Food is separate," Marna said. "Rooms are two coppers a night."
Claudemund stared at her, then the coins, then at the room behind us, expecting the walls to explain this offence. "Each room?" she asked.
"Uhuh. You've got the private ones and communal if you want cheaper."
"Per night?"
"That's generally how nights work."
Claudemund's face tightened in deep concentration as she attempted to organise this new information alongside the knowledge she has already possessed. Unfortunately, her understanding of payment appears to have been assembled without adequate tools or supervision.
"Why," Claudemund said slowly, "is the food not included?"
Marna gave her a frown as a response. Before Claudemund could say anything that would make her situation worse, I stepped nearer towards her with utmost care. "Claudemund, dear, some establishments include food with lodging," I said gently. "Some do not. It depends on the place, the owner, the season, and how much they can afford to provide."
"But if one is staying there, one must eat there," Claudemund said as she turned to me with seriousness carved on her face.
"Not necessarily."
"Where else would one eat?"
"Other establishments that offer food," I said. "Markets, food stalls, bakeries… perhaps private homes if invited."
"That is inefficient."
"It can be," I admitted.
Juria muttered into her hand, "Here we go."
Silence settles between the four of us. Claudemund, unfortunately, is the first to disturb it. "So… does the mud not lower the price?"
I glanced at her but I'm not sure what expression I'm wearing. I'd rather not know. I folded my hands again.
Lady Elandra, please grant me the wisdom to explain economics to this woman who has possibly never needed to buy her own breakfast twice in her life.
"The mud," I said aloud, "is not usually considered a discount."
There was yet again another short silence.
Claudemund looks at the remaining contents of her satchel, then back at Marna. Whatever calculation takes place behind her eyes appears to end badly. Finally, Claudemund broke the awkward silence. Then, with the tone of a woman who had reached the end of both patience and civilisation, she exclaimed, "For fuck's sake."
Claudemund retrieved a gold coin from her satchel and smashed it against the counter in front of Marna. Juria's palm hit her face as she groaned in disappointment. I was torn between laughter, tears, or collapsing on the tavern floor so I can let Elandra take charge.
Elandra… Why?
Marna did not touch the coin at first but instead, her eyes gazed on the shiny material.
"Oh," Marna said. Claudemund's hand lingered on the counter fingers spread beside the coin perhaps daring anyone to challenge her perfectly reasonable decision. Carefully Marna picked it up between two fingers and tilted it towards the light. "A Halleyan coin," she added. "You've travelled a long way lass. We don't see these floating around very often."
"How many nights can this get us?" Claudemund asked. Her voice seems too controlled now. It had none of the earlier confusion in it. Marna observed the coin once again.
"That's not simple," Marna replied.
"Why not?" Claudemund frowned immediately.
Marna gazed into her eyes and said, "This is worth more than most coins I handle. Halleyan gold is exceptionally valuable; it's almost pure and incredibly heavy. Out here, it is worth more than the gold issued by most kingdoms."
Claudemund remained silent as I struggled to comprehend how a coin like this could be superior. On one hand I'm glad she's with us but on the other, I'm beginning to worry about what we've gotten ourselves into. Claudemund did say she's a merchant's daughter. While I haven't met anyone with her standing I suppose it's possible she's simply travelled extensively.
"I could offer you rooms and food for a while. However, I'd need to figure out the change and I don't have enough change in me pockets to make it up properly—" Marna sighed.
"That is fine," Claudemund said quickly. "Keep it."
"No!" Juria exclaimed. Claudemund's head turned immediately towards her.
"More than that," Marna said in a low voice, "it's suspicious." Leaning her forearms on the counter, her voice remained not unkind but no longer casual. "A young woman travelling with an elf and draconian, mud-splattered yet paying with Halleyan gold like it's copper. It makes people like me wonder."
Claudemund's fingers curled around the wood, confusion replaced by calm. I had seen that look before on the road, when travellers were pressed too closely about things they would rather not explain. She had the look of someone arranging their words carefully, deciding what could be said and what must be kept back. I stepped forward and placed my hand gently on the counter, hoping I could break the tension.
"We have come a long way," I said.
"That much I gathered."
"We have had a hard road," I continued. "My companion's machine broke. She was injured. We have been travelling carefully because the roads have not been kind to us."
"That doesn't explain the coin."
"No, it does not. But it explains why we are tired," I said. "And hungry. Perhaps less wise than we might be after sleep."
I tried to look as calm as I could towards Marna. Such expression had served me well over three centuries. It has calmed fevered children, suspicious soldiers, grieving widows, and almost everyone else in need of reassurance. Everyone except… Marna.
Marna Vale, unfortunately, looked more difficult than the grieving widows.
"I can give you three private rooms, or one private and a communal for your two friends," she said at last. "Food tonight. Breakfast in the morning. We'll discuss the rest once I've had time to weigh this proper and see what change I can manage."
Claudemund opened her mouth but Juria caught her sleeve. This time, Claudemund noticed before speaking. A miracle!
I shall make a note of this to thank Elandra later.
"That is fair," I said.
"Hold onto it for now. The cleric's word will cover tonight. Pay me in smaller coin if you manage to find some at the end of the day. If you don't, we'll settle it without making a show tonight or tomorrow," Marna then placed the gold coin back on the counter but kept two fingers resting on it. Claudemund took the coin back and slipped it into her satchel with far more care than she had shown while producing it.
"One room for each of us then, please. I value privacy," Claudemund smiled.
I then finally allowed myself to relax.
Lady Elandra, thank you for preserving us from immediate disaster. I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but if the next lesson could involve fewer monetary stresses, I would receive it with joy.
Marna reached beneath the counter and retrieved three iron keys. She neatly arranged them in a row and said, "One for each room upstairs. The number on the keys corresponds to the room they unlock."
I took one of the keys and smiled gently. "Thank you, Mistress Vale," I smiled.
"Marna," she said. "Mistress Vale sounds like I should be wearing them fancy shite and judging folks."
Claudemund, despite herself, murmured, "One can do both." She took her key and disappeared upstairs with such enthusiasm that made me wonder if she intended to embrace the bed. I am not judging her if she did.
I followed her towards the stairs that rose directly opposite the counter and opened onto a narrow landing. Claudemund stood in front of the room to the right beside the staircase. Juria found hers which was opposite of Claudemund's, close enough that they could continue irritating one another without the inconvenience of walking any meaningful distance.
This arrangement felt divinely malicious.
My own room lay farther down the corridor on the left. I carried my things along the worn floorboards while I can hear Claudemund struggling with her lock behind me. Then comes a click, a small sound of triumph, and the firm closing of her door. I smiled and continued down the corridor until I found my room.
My room was small but after the road, it felt generous.
A narrow bed stood against one wall beneath a quilt faded by many washings. There was a wooden washstand, a small table with one chair, and an old wardrobe. The floorboards creaked beneath my shoes but they were clean. A little iron stove occupied the corner, cold for now, with a tidy stack of firewood beside it.
Across from the bed, glazed doors opened onto a narrow balcony overlooking the surrounding neighbourhood, though from here I could see little more than a patchwork of rooftops. I set my things down and stepped outside.
Brackenford sprawled beyond the railing into damp rooftops and curling chimney smoke. Behind the tavern lay a small yard with barrels stacked against the wall and a stable beyond. Further away the town thinned into green fields greyed by afternoon clouds.
Though I know this is not the same as Mythrelien. There were no silver-leafed trees or pale stone pathways glowing softly beneath the moon. No familiar bells carried through ancient branches. No Jo waiting beneath the shrine arch with that look he wore whenever I returned later than promised.
The thought of him crept without my permission. I miss him. I miss the warmth of his hand over mine. I miss the way he listens like every word I say deserved a place in the world. I miss the look he gives me whenever one of my jokes fails, which is often. He'd patiently wait through the silence letting me realise my mistake then smile so tenderly that the failure felt worthwhile. I wished he could have met Juria. I wished he could have met Claudemund too.
I rested my hands against the balcony railing and closed my eyes.
Thank you, Elandra. For the roof and the road behind us. For Claudemund's generosity, however violently she chose to place it upon the counter.
A smile touched my mouth.
Watch over Jo, wherever his path currently lies. I wish he were here. I think he would have liked these two.
The only response I received was the sound of damp air against my face and the distant rumble of a cart passing by. I wasn't expecting any answers anyway but a knock on my door was certainly unexpected. I returned inside and found Juria waiting in the corridor. She glanced once towards the hallways before stepping into my room.
"We need to talk," she said in a low voice.
I closed the balcony doors as Juria shut the door behind her. She lingered beside it for a moment listening. When the corridor remained silent she crossed the room and stood near the small table.
"What troubles you?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.
"The gold coin, for a start," Juria replied with the look on her face expecting me that we would be having this conversation.
Perched on the bed's edge, I felt the mattress sink beneath me with an unexpected softness that I nearly lost the thread of the conversation. A true mattress.
Elandra, you are merciful after all.
"We need to decide what we're doing here. How long we'll stay and where we're going afterwards. I don't want to discuss it with Claudemund around," Juria said crossing her arms.
"Why not?"
"Because I can't tell if she's someone important we shouldn't be tangled up with or an actual idiot."
"Those possibilities are not mutually exclusive," I said gently as I looked toward the wall separating us from the corridor.
"You're confusing as shit sometimes," she sighed.
"I have been told."
She began pacing through the small room, though there was not enough space for it. After three strides, she had to turn. After another three, she turned again. It made her look like a large, increasingly irritated animal placed in a small cage.
"Didn't you hear what that woman said about the coin?" she asked. "Who the fuck carries something like that randomly? Definitely not someone who fucking crashes into our camp on a metal llama."
"Few people crash into camps on metal llamas at all."
"Luna."
"Yes. I heard her."
"Halleyan gold… Worth more than most kingdom coin yet she throws it around like it's nothing, but she didn't know what a copper buys. She barely understands how taverns work. She speaks like a noble who learned swearing last week, and for that I think the whole merchant's daughter story is horseshit." Juria then stopped pacing. "There is more to that merchant's daughter façade she's trying to make everyone believe. There has to be."
I thought of Claudemund at the counter. T The way she held herself at the counter. The smoothness of her voice when she asked how many nights it would purchase. All the confusion had vanished at once, replaced by something colder and far more practised. There is more to her story. On that, Juria and I agree.
But knowing a door concealed something did not grant us the right to break it down.
"Perhaps," I said, "Claudemund is not what she appears to be now."
"That's what I'm saying," Juria exhaled sharply.
"But answers, if there are answers to be given, will reveal themselves one day."
"That is not a plan."
"No. It is patience… And sometimes doing nothing is the kindest choice available," I smiled.
"And sometimes it gets you stabbed."
"That is also true…"
Juria looks briefly dissatisfied that I had agreed with her. She found the chair and dropped herself on it, which gave a small protest. "She could have people looking for her."
"She may."
"She could be a criminal."
"Perhaps."
"She could be running from someone dangerous."
"She almost certainly is."
"And you're fine with this?"
"No," I said. "I am concerned. I saw how uncomfortable she can get with other people. She is hiding something from us."
"Exactly."
"But I have also seen her injured, frightened, and far from home. Whatever truth she carries, she does not yet believe it is safe to place it in our hands."
"She lied to us," Juria frowned.
"Yes."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"Oh don't worry, it does bother me," I offered, trying to sound like a joke. Juria didn't smile so I switched to something gentler. "Mercy does not require blindness, Juria. I can care for Claudemund and still know that she is lying. Hasn't she also been trying her best to help us during our journey? I can wait for her to speak while remaining watchful. Those things may stand beside one another."
"She's going to drag us into something, isn't she?" Juria asked.
"Possibly."
She narrowed her eyes, perhaps suspecting a joke. It was better not to help her though. At last, she pushed herself out of the chair. "I'm going to look around the town and see what's in the markets. Gonna find out what sort of place this is before we decide anything." Juria then paused beside the door. "You want to come?"
Unfortunately for Juria, The bed waited behind me. I had felt its softness once and was no longer willing to pretend I possessed higher priorities.
"No, thank you. I would like a little time alone."
"You all right?"
"Yes." I glanced at the quilt. "I merely wish to become reacquainted with the experience of sleeping on something that was constructed intentionally."
"Fair. I want to see what they've got in the market before everything closes."
"May Elandra watch over you. Take care."
"I always do."
I gave Juria a sceptical look. Knowing her, trouble always seems to follow her.
"Fine. I sometimes do," she sighed.
"And do not let the staring trouble you."
"Never," she said. "I'm not going to do something illegal. I promise."
"An inspired beginning."
She gave me one last puzzled look, then stepped into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind her. For several minutes, I remained seated on the edge of the bed, listening to the tavern below. Then voices rise in the corridor, loud enough to reach me through the door. Muffled by the door, I could not make out every word, but I recognised them at once belonging to Juria and Claudemund.
It could have been another argument or perhaps teasing. With those two, I was beginning to think the distinction is mostly ceremonial.
Drowning out the noise, I looked toward the ceiling.
Lady Elandra, I prayed, I have fulfilled my obligations for the moment. Whatever occurs in that corridor now belongs to you.
I removed my shoes, drew back the quilt, and laid down.
Finally.
I feel safe and secure. No stones are pressed into my spine, no roots conspire against my shoulders, and no insect curiously exploring my sleeve. I closed my eyes.
Outside, Juria said something that made Claudemund swear. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. I've decided to pull the quilt over myself so I could stop hearing the outside for a while.
Elandra could handle them for one afternoon.
She is a goddess.
I am tired.