Page 6 of The Tricksters Deception

Corvu provides his answer with distaste, “Witches have been hunted almost to extinction. There aren’t any left, at least not ones anyone is aware of.” My head spun. For maybe the hundredth time today, I feel my heart race. I try to breathe, but my throat feels like ice. A voice echoes in my ears. “Hey? Girl?” My vision comes back into focus. Corvu is standing in front of my face holding my shoulders. Clearly, whatever this place is, personal space is not a common courtesy.

“My name is Tia.” Even though I spoke the words, they had sounded like they came from an entirely different person.

Corvu raises a brow at me, “Tia, then.” He smiles, and I see the distinct length of his fangs for the first time, but I’m not as frightened as I probably should be. “You know you stick out quite a lot around here. You should consider a change of clothes.” Patricia nods her head to this and disappears once more into the back room.

“I have no money,” I state, “, and if I’m being honest being human is clearly strange enough regardless of the clothes I wear.” As if on cue to make my point, my stomach let out an unusual sounding rumble. “And I haven’t eaten in what feels like days.” When Patricia returns she’s carrying some fabrics. Handing them to me, she suggests I go and change.

As I go to stand behind the curtain, Corvu shouts to me, “Tell you what, if you tell me more about this world you’re supposedly from, food will be my treat.” It was a kind gesture, and not one I could refuse. I graciously accepted, hoping that I wouldn’t come to regret the decision.

Chapter three

The outfit that Patricia gave me was not flashy at all but had a certain understated elegance. The breeches were made of soft, lightly colored fabric that hugged my legs comfortably, allowing ease of movement. They had subtle, intricate stitching along the seams, adding a touch of craftsmanship. The tan boots reached just below my knees, their supple leather both sturdy and flexible, perfect for long walks or quick getaways. The boots had small buckles and fine, decorative embossing that gave them a refined look.

The white tunic was made of lightweight, breathable material, its fabric flowing gently with every movement. It had delicate embroidery along the neckline and cuffs, a series of small, intricate patterns that caught the eye without being overly ostentatious. Over the tunic, I wore a darker tanned vest that fit snugly, its color complementing the lighter shades of the rest of the outfit. The vest had several pockets and was adorned with tiny, brass buttons that gleamed softly in the light, each button engraved with a subtle, swirling design.

Patricia had also given me a sage cloak for colder weather. The cloak was made of a thick, warm fabric, its color a rich, vibrant purple. The hood was lined with a softer material for added comfort, and the edges of the cloak were hemmed with a fine, leafy pattern that echoed the natural world. The cloak fastened at the neck with a small, ornate clasp shaped like a leaf, its detail so precise it looked almost real.

I was lucky in a way my hair was naturally blonde; it blended in well with the outfit overall. The light color of my hair contrasted nicely with the earthy tones of the cloak and vest, creating a harmonious balance. Regardless of how beautiful the outfit was, I kept the amulet tightly tucked under the vest as per Patricia’s warning. The amulet, a small but powerful relic, rested against my chest, its presence a constant reminder of the hidden dangers and the importance of keeping it safe. The weight of it was reassuring, a secret strength hidden beneath the layers of my new attire.

Corvu keeps his word and takes me to a place with a painted blue wooden sign that reads "The Tooth’s Keep." The sign is old, its paint chipped and weathered by time, giving it a rustic charm. The wooden door he opens is large and sturdy, worn smooth by countless hands over the years. As it swings open, the sounds of a bustling tavern spill out, filling the air with lively chatter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter.

“This place is also an inn,” Corvu says to me as we step inside. The interior is warm and inviting, with a large stone fireplace crackling in one corner, casting flickering light and shadows across the room. The walls are lined with dark, polished wood, and beams stretch across the ceiling, adorned with hanging lanterns and dried herbs. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread mingles with the earthy scent of the wooden furniture, creating a comforting atmosphere.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was about to be welcomed by the innkeeper to begin an adventure or quest. “Welcome!” I jump, not expecting the bartender’s voice to be so loud. I notice that he isn’t quite human but pretty close. He is much taller than Corvu and has a much wider face. His mouth stretches widely and opens fully when he speaks, revealing every tooth to be thin but sharp and pointed like those of a feline. His skin has a slight greyish tint, and his eyes are a piercing yellow, adding to his otherworldly appearance.

Corvu must have noticed my discomfort as we sit down at a wooden carved table. There is one chair, which I sit on, and Corvu pulls over a small empty barrel to sit on the edge of. The table itself is round and well-worn, with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and swirling patterns along its edge. In the center, a half-melted candle flickers, casting a soft glow over the rough, scarred surface.

“They’re called Saberteeth,” Corvu says, gesturing towards the barkeep I couldn’t help but stare at. I look at the bartender again, his eyes glowing eerily from the candlelight. I could almost confirm there is no electricity around here, since there is no evidence of light switches or telephone poles anywhere. The tavern is lit by candles and lanterns, their warm light creating a cozy, timeless feel. I was lucky I was more concerned about where I was and didn’t ask to borrow someone’s phone, or I would have panicked a lot earlier and probably never bumped into Corvu. “I figured since you were staring you’ve never seen one.” He was spot on. As I try not to stare and look around, I note that it’s now completely dark outside through the small hole in the wall that represents a window. That was a quick sunset. The room is filled with a diverse array of creatures. At one table, a group of small, winged beings with delicate, iridescent wings are engaged in animated conversation, their voices high-pitched and musical. At another, a hulking figure with rough, stone-like skin sits alone, nursing a tankard of ale. A pair of lithe, cat-like humanoids with sleek fur and pointed ears share a meal, their movements graceful and precise. As I take in the scene, I feel a mix of wonder and unease. This place is like nothing I’ve ever seen before, a living tapestry of mythical creatures and strange customs. Despite my initial shock, I can’t help but feel a growing sense of curiosity about this new, bewildering world.

“No,” I whisper, clearing my throat to make my next words louder. “There are very few creatures around here that are familiar to me, but only because I’ve heard about them in myths.” Corvu holds up his hand toward the barkeep, signaling for two drinks.

“We’re not myths. We’re very real,” he chuckles.

“I can see that now,” I respond sarcastically. It’s not that I wasn’t fully aware of what was happening around me, but I just didn’t expect to have to face it so head-on. “I only know about satyrs and centaurs; they were identifiable. A lot of the others look a little unusual to me.”

“So, you don’t know what I am then?” He asks, grinning to the left, revealing the short but very pointed fang he had. A few of the patrons near us had got up and moved away once they turned to see our table. I guess humans are really unusual, and no one wants to be near them.

I take a wild guess based on the point of his ears. “An elf?” Startled by the waitress placing the drinks in front of us, I hear her laugh, “Oh honey bear,” she starts, her voice squeaky. I took a good look at her at this time; her body was very small, but her head was quite large. Reminded me of what I always imagined a pixie to look like, her large bug-like eyes looking down at me with extremely dilated pupils. “You’re lucky he’s such a sweet thing or you’d be running with your tail between your legs.” Out of fear I had grown a tail, I swiftly checked behind me, but all was normal. “What’s wrong with this one?” She asks Corvu, nodding in my direction.

“She’s just not from around here.” He smiles. “We’ll take two plates of whatever you are cooking.” She nods and walks off, where I only just notice her feet were more like tiger paws. What was this world? “She’s a Clawhop. Don’t ever make one angry and don’t try to outrun them.”

“I feel like I should be writing these things down.” He nods and leans to the side, pulling something out of the large hidden pocket he had down his leg.

“I assume you know how to use a book and inkhold?” He handed me a small hardcover book, bound with leather and rope, as well as what reminded me of a pen but I had to assume it was a modified bird feather, similar to how people used quills, just without the ink in a pot or the fluffy touch. Funnily enough, I don’t hesitate to take it and start writing notes about some of the things I have heard about today.

“What’s he?” I ask, pointing to the man sitting a few tables away. By man, I mostly mean goat, or bull? He reminded me a bit of a satyr but he was extremely short and circular, with more of a snout and two large protruding horns out the two sides of his head that were not only thick but curled.

“Rubusk,” Corvu states confidently as I take a sip of the odd drink I was given, “They have a mean headbutt and back-kick. But that’s a woman.” I almost choke on my drink, but managing to keep it together I say, “How do you know the difference?”

“Rubusk are easy to tell by their size. Anything shorter than you is likely a woman; anything two feet taller than me is a male, regardless of other appearances.” I was going to die here if I kept misinterpreting things. “They also hate cinnamon.”

Snickering, I respond, “So do I.” Tapping the pen, or inkhold, against the paper waiting for more, “What else can you tell me?”

Corvu and I chatted for what felt like hours, long after we finished our meals and snacks. The food was hearty and delicious, with rich, savory stews and warm, crusty bread that tasted like it had just come out of the oven. The drinks, however, made me feel a little lightheaded, so I imagine they contained some level of alcohol. That didn’t bother me too much. Although I don’t even have the time to drink back in the real world, I am of legal age to do so. The tavern had a cozy, welcoming atmosphere, with the warm glow of candlelight casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls and the murmur of conversation creating a pleasant hum in the background.

Corvu taught me about a few creatures, like the ones that attacked me in the alley. Even though I’ve heard of Trolls before, they aren’t anything like the ones I know. "Trolls here are known for their devilish behavior and ghastly desires," Corvu explained, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. "That’s why they asked you for gold and other things. They thrive on chaos and greed." His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that made me realize how dangerous these creatures could be.

I tried to ask Corvu about himself, but he quickly deflected my questions, so I decided it was best not to press the issue. Instead, we talked about the world around us, the various creatures, and the customs that seemed so foreign to me. His knowledge was vast, and I found myself getting lost in his stories, forgetting for a moment my predicament.

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