Page 9 of Aofie's Quest
Up close, I was able to study him. He was only a few inches taller than myself with tight brown curls that covered his head. A thick mustache, the color of the chestnut trees of Beluar, covered his lips, and there were lines around his eyes. He was human, and as I stepped across the threshold, another buzz of comfort passed through my lower belly. I’d made it. I was in the kingdom of men, among people of my own kind, at last.
Armis closed the door and leaned the staff against the wall. “You can wash up there.” He pointed to a wash basin.
I quickly splashed water on my face and arms, thankful to wash away the grit and mud that clung to my skin after my misadventures. A full bath would be preferred, and with a sense of dismay I studied the scratches on my arms and legs. The shallow wound where Jezebel had cut me stung when I touched it, but it would heal. I picked burrs and snarls out of my hair and braided it, creating more knots I’d have to deal with later. Epona would be appalled that I did not look presentable, with my torn and muddy clothes.
“Marie,” Armis bellowed. “Soup. We have hungry guests tonight.”
Smoothing out the wrinkles of my skirt, I followed Armis into a wide room. I had to work to keep my jaw from dropping, shocked at the size of the inn. The inside was comprised of a square room with several tables and chairs covering the floor. In a back corner, a spiral staircase led upward. Round fruits, green vegetables, and red meat hung from the rafters, adding to the rich, spicy fragrance in the air. My stomach growled, reminding me I’d had nothing to eat since breakfast.
At one end of the room was a waist-high wall, and beyond it the flickering light of a fire. A woman walked up to it and plunked three bowls down. She bustled out of sight and returned a moment later with four mugs, plopping them down so hard on the counter, liquid sloshed out. “Armis, stop babbling and come pass out this food,” she hollered. “Can’t get enough good help these days.”
A flush spilled over my cheeks at her words, and the room had gone silent. Each table was full of humans, all shapes and sizes. They had been eating and drinking, but now they stared at me with slack gazes, eyeing my boots, leather clothing, and the shabby pack on my back. I swallowed hard as unease crept around me like the morning mist. I took a step backward, feeling the need to dash out the door and back into the shadows of night, where I’d be hidden from curious gazes and wagging lips.
“Aye, eat up now, don’t make our visitor feel uncomfortable,” Armis bellowed.
The din in the room started up again, but people snuck glances at me. Eyes peered over the rims of cups or shifted up as soup was spooned into mouths. Despite Armis’s warmth and Turek and Reish waving at me, a sinking feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach as I joined the children.
Bowls of soup steamed on the table. Reish was already halfway done, spooning square chunks of meat into her mouth as though she hadn’t eaten for days. Her cheeks bulged and her eyes watered from the steam. Turek ate much slower, blowing on each spoonful that hovered in front of his face. He jerked his chin at a bowl, mug, and hunk of bread sitting at the empty spot. I dropped my pack under the table and sat, which was odd. The centaurs usually stood while they ate, and I’d grown accustomed to their mannerisms—I often stood or squatted while I ate with my fingers. With some embarrassment I picked up the spoon.
“Don’t mind them.” Turek waved his spoon. “They are just curious about you. We don’t get many newcomers here.”
Reish came up for air, swallowed, and belched loudly. “Aside from traders, no one new comes to this village. The people will want to hear all about you, but don’t be nervous, they’ll just ask questions.”
“Questions?” I frowned, unwilling to be interrogated. “Earlier you said something about punishments and sacrifices—”
“Don’t talk of such things here,” Turek hissed, eyes almost bulging out of his head. “It’s not allowed. It’s one thing to speak outside, but indoors we have to pretend everything is as it should be.”
Armis bustled over and pulled out a chair. He sat down heavily and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Good, good, you’re eating now. Aofie, I can offer you a bed tonight.” He glanced at the spiral staircase. So, there were rooms up there, much like a tree house. “But I’m warning you, the villagers want to hear your tale. I sent a runner to gather everyone. After you eat, they’ll be wanting to hear how you bested the witch woman. I’m sorry I can’t buy you much time, but we’ll try to keep it short. You must be tired after your trials.”
Tired? Exhaustion passed over me in waves and my eyelids were heavy. One bite of the soup and homesickness swept through me. I missed the quiet mornings with the centaurs, creeping through the crystal dewdrops to hunt in the forest. I missed the exhilarating rush of catching a beast and bringing it back to the clan to skin, cut up into pieces, and cook. It was a task I disliked, but it made me feel part of the circle of life, and not an intruder without the ability to give back to my family. I missed training in the circle with the young ones. Aside from swordplay, we learned knife throwing, how to use the bow and arrows, and also how to create weapons and traps out of the wood and vines in the forest. I missed Epona’s calm voice of reason and bathing in the brook, washing away the grime of the day.
A bath, a kind word, and some guidance as to what I should do next would be most welcome. I should be grateful to be with my own kind, but it was different to be among so many humans. I studied them as I ate. Most of them were thin and appeared weathered and dirty. They were louder than the centaurs, with coarse, almost rough voices. Armis moved among them, setting soup and mugs down at different tables and chuckling wholeheartedly as words were exchanged. It was as though the inn were his kingdom and he was at peace, at home in it.
I ate heartily, and when my bowl was empty a sense of contentment zinged through me. I looked up at my companions, but Reish had disappeared, just as silently and gracefully as she’d appeared on the road.
Armis returned. “Turek, I sent word to your pa. He’s coming to hear Aofie’s tale. Come back tomorrow when you get done with chores; I have some work for you.”
Turek grinned, slurping up the last of his soup. “Pa didn’t sound angry, did he?”
Armis winked. “I said you were with me. If he knew you were near the witch woman’s pond, he’d thrash your hide.”
Turek hung his head and I felt relieved he wouldn’t be punished.
Rubbing his hands together, Armis glanced around the room and then nodded. “Now. Aofie. Let’s hear your tale.”
Chapter Nine
“Up on the table,”someone called.
Mugs banged, clicking together, and chairs scraped the floor as the village folk turned toward me, questions shining in their eyes.
“Now, now, pipe down and stay civilized.” Armis waved his arms, calming the excited crowd.
He pulled a chair around and held out his hand to me. I stared. Did he mean for me to climb up on the chair? With a sigh, I reminded myself I needed the help of these people to find the river. Besides, the food and drink had revived me.
Clearing my throat, I stared at my feet to avoid the villagers’ eyes. “My name is Aofie.”
“Louder!” someone shouted.
