Page 21 of The Demon's Delight
“Did I, what?”
“You poured me a drink straightaway. Where was your hospitality for her? Did you mean to be welcoming, or did you mean harm?”
“Oh, I …”
“Do the women of this town not drink your ale? It’s certainly not the worst I’ve tasted, but I have to wonder if it’s of such bad quality you’d prefer it not cross the lips of a lady.” He tapped the point of his dagger against his chin. “Were you insultingmeby allowing me to drink it, or were you insultingherby not offering any at all?”
Despite the hot rage pouring from his body and the terrifying tone of Seir’s voice, I did not fear him. My heart was pounding in my chest mostly out of anxious anticipation. He seemed erratic, though still very methodical. It didn’t make sense, but I’d seen him take out a threat, and this was not the same. This was something more like… playing with his food.
I scanned the room, finding that the only women present were clearly working in one way or another. There were two laughing and playfully being tossed from lap to lap at tables near the windows, their bodices cut low and their skirts pulled high enough to show stockings and garters. Two more were delivering food and drinks from large trays. Women were not patrons here, only men. I very much doubted Seir had missed such a detail, but it felt important.
The innkeeper hustled to fill a cup for me, but in his haste, it was mostly foam.
“Thank you,” I said, not wishing to inflame things any further. I took a drink, and it was refreshing if only because it was cold. My whole body was on high alert, and I wanted nothing more than to follow the hateful man out the door. Seir had shown several features that were not fully human, and I had no idea whether that was going to become a serious problem forus. “Whatever point you wanted to make, you’ve made, it, okay? Let’s just go.”
“In a moment.” Seir took a deep breath and sheathed his dagger. The energy of the bar relaxed, everyone returning to their own conversations as though what had just happened was completely commonplace. No wonder Ignus got along so well here.
“Can I do anything else for you, sir?” the innkeeper asked, clearly trying to get us to leave his establishment peacefully.
“Who can I speak to about a horse?”
He shook his head. “No horses to let or sell around these parts.”
“Not even for gold coin?” Seir asked, accepting the cup as I pushed it toward him. The bright hoppy taste turned my empty stomach.
“No sir. All our animals are working stock, needed for the harvest before winter comes.”
“Unfortunate,” Seir grunted and finished the ale, the innkeeper startling when he smacked the empty tankard on the bar. He sighed, fishing coins from a pouch at his waist. His tail was twitching irritably under his shirt, like a snake coiled inside a sack, ready to strike at the first temptation of release. “And information? Do you have any of that?”
“Possibly.”
“I heard a rumor about a healer in a nearby town.”
I was sure I turned bright red, standing right there listening, acting like I wasn’t the subject of his questioning, but I appreciated the way Seir had approached his information gathering.
“Aye. I don’t know anything for certain, but there’s been talk of a woman who can cure just about anything, for the right price.”
“Keep talking.”
“Word has it she’s mountain folk. Has a unique talent. You know the kind—not a witch, exactly, but something close. Should you find yourself in Olinbourg, look for the house near the square with the lattice windows.”
Seir placed a coin on the bar, but kept it covered with his hand.
“Any clue who I might want to speak to when I find this house?”
The innkeeper glanced around before leaning in, trying to maintain some illusion of privacy in the busy room. The coin was traded, and he started talking. “There’s a man who comes here sometimes, he brings grain for my ale and sour mash. Bartering is commonplace for nearby townsfolk, as you surely know. Everyone has something to trade.”
“Of course.”
“He goes by Ignus. Allegedly, it’s his healer.”
I clenched a fist at the insinuation I belonged to him. I’d been his captive, his unwilling participant. But I’d never beenhis.
“Does he travel alone?”
“Occasionally there’s another man with him. Bookish type, skinny with glasses.” That had to be Dr. Lang. “They generally seek ale here and company at Ms. Welling’s, but so do many.”
“Indeed.” Seir put down another coin. “Apologies for the mess. We’ll be on our way.”
