Page 51 of Grave Situation

The innwife’s face softens as she glances toward Jaimin. “Oh, the poor dear. I had that a few years back, and I swear it seemed to linger for months after. You’re the only ones at this end of the hall, so he should be able to get some rest, and he’ll feel better in a few hours—all of you should. I’ll get a nice tea together for you around midmorning to keep you going until lunch.”

“You’re so kind. We truly appreciate it—we haven’t been the best guests, waking you this early.”

She clucks her tongue. “Nothing of it—you’ve been the soul of gentility. Now eat, and I’ll have both tubs filled for you.” She closes the door on her way out.

“I love her,” I declare. “Can you wake Jaimin while I change?”

Tia waves me off, already crossing the room, and I grab fresh clothes from my—thankfully waterproof—pack, then duck behind the screen. My mind is whirling—I need to speak with my master and find out what Tia meant about needing muscle. I desperately want to sleep. And the stone needs to give us more information.

But first thing first: If I don’t eat soon, my stomach may just start digesting my other organs.

It’s midmorning,and we’ve just demolished a giant tray of tea and cake when I decide I’m finally ready to start thinking again. I’d intended to contact Master after my bath, but I came back to the room to find Tia snoring in the cot and Jaimin sleeping peacefully on one side of the big bed. It didn’t seem worth disturbing them, and the lure of sleep was strong, so I blocked the door and window with telekinetic energy, hoped it would be good enough, and sprawled on the other side of the mattress.

Tia woke me four hours later, desperate to use the privy, and I let her out of the room just as the innkeeper’s daughter arrived with the tea tray. Jaimin opened his eyes when the scent of warm apple cake reached him, and he looks a lot better now, working on his second cup of tea.

“We need to decide what to do next,” Tia declares, her thoughts in sync with mine.

Jaimin looks across the table at me. “Have you spoken to Master Samoine?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. But first…” I telepathically sweep the hallway—nobody’s nearby. In fact, I don’t think there’s anybody at the inn except us and the staff, who are all downstairs. That works in our favor. I put a clever littletelepathic tripwire at the top of the stairs—it won’t be noticed, but if anyone comes up here, I’ll know. Something I learned to do in my student days.

“Okay, we can be assured of privacy.” I pull the pouch out of my shirt and dump the stone into the center of the table. It rattles against the teapot and then sits there, looking particularly unattractive. “Stone, are we safe here for now?”

~Yes~

“No zombies nearby—or friends of zombies?” I press.

~No~

“And you’ll let us know if that changes?”

~Yes~

“That’s something, at least,” Jaimin murmurs.

Nodding, I reach out to my master.

“Talon?”His surprise is clear. I’ve been reporting to him in the early evenings, not mornings.“Has something happened?”

“We were attacked last night. Seven zombies, five humans.”

He swears viciously, the echo of his concern vibrating down our mental connection.“Are you all well? Somewhere safe?”

“We’re safe for now, at an inn. I think we’ll be here for at least tonight, maybe tomorrow night also. Jaimin killed one of them.”

Master swears again.

“Yes. It would have been nice if someone told me about backlash before I found him curled up in agony in the middle of a zombie attack.”

“It’s not something I thought you’d need to know,”he admits.“I didn’t even think of it. Has he recovered?”

“Mostly. I think he’s just worn out now.”

“Tell me everything that happened.”

I begin, but I only have my own perspective, and after the third time I stop to question the others and relay information, Master loses patience.

“Let me speak through you,”he demands.

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