Page 62 of The Cruel Dawn
The old Kai would’ve burned him to a fritter.That’s what shedoesn’tsay.
I cock an eyebrow. “My, my, my, what flat black eyes you have.”
She nods to a Renrian who also has flat black eyes and fingers barely long enough to hold the handle of the bucket she’s carrying. “Better to fit in than stand out nowadays,” she says.
We pass a group of humans, their own dark eyes narrowed and filled with suspicion.
Separi quickens her pace. “They’re wary,” she murmurs without looking back.
“Of us?” I ask.
“Of everything.” She rounds the corner and leads us down a narrow alley.
Before my arrival and destructive departure, the Broken Hammer Inn had boasted a white-and-gray quartz roof atop its three stories. Fat pillars of smoke had puffed out of its seven chimneys. Slick red double doors welcomed every visitor who wanted to relax in the jasmine- and toast-scented sitting room with its generous hearth.
The Broken Hammer Inn is still three stories tall, but four of the seven chimneys have crumbled, and the remaining chimneys are cracked and no longer smoke. Now, those same red doors have splintered and hang on rusted hinges. The acrid tang of burned wood has replaced the scent of jasmine. Ravens nest in the holes of that quartz roof.
“Once upon a time,” Separi mutters, “guests could sleep peacefully here and enjoy a great meal.”
“We’ll make it right again,” I say, more to myself than to Separi.
She laughs without humor. “Easy to say, Lady, but harder to do.” Her gaze flicks to my face, searching. “Unless you’re planning on staying long enough to help with that?”
I wince. “About that… ‘Long enough’ is such an intriguing concept.”
The ravens caw and hop along the ledge as I near the inn.
“There is no death here, Lady.”
“Not to worry, Lady.”
“The Renrians are safe here for now, Lady.”
I nod even though I know what those birds symbolize and what I smell… All can’t be well here. Iseethat all is not well here. I don’t need any more evidence than the few corpses I step over. I peer at the ravens who are still bowing and cawing and assuring me but…
That smell.
These bodies.
“You look troubled,” Separi says.
“I’m being told one thing,” I say, “but I’m seeing something different.”
Separi unlocks the splintery red doors and opens them wide enough for the both of us to slip through. She immediately closes the doors behind us. “I can’t let anyone in to see…”
I gasp.
The fireplace blazes, and the air, once again, smells of jasmine and toast. The walls gleam, and the carpets shine. Tables are neatly arranged, each with flickering candles that cast warm light, their flames dancing in the draft. Patrons scattered around the room, all with shiny lavender eyes, nurse mugs of tea, and eat toasted buttery bread. All stand as I pass and whisper, “Lady.”
I’ve stepped into another world. “What happened here?”
Separi sees my astonishment and says, wryly, “Surprise.”
We move deeper into the inn. Her boots shuffle softly across the polished wooden floor as she leads me to a secluded alcove by the roaring hearth. “This town has changed, but the Renrians have not. We enchant now more than ever. But visits here now require…discretion.”
The Broken Hammer Inn has been enchanted, and the ravens were right. There is no death here, but there are Renrians laughing and playing flutes.
Separi’s eyes have returned to their true lavender. “Right now, we’re ‘closed for repairs.’ While the Broken Hammer was never a palace, it certainly wasn’t run-down like this. The ravens are blessing us with their presence to keep people away. We’ve done the rest with our gifts.”
