Land's End, Part 4
There was an inn along the river, near enough to Lystria to be convenient but far enough away so as not to draw undo attention. For this reason, it was the perfect place for Gilbetron to stop. Normally, he would have travelled cross-country with the Royal Guard, but he often preferred to travel on his own, a throwback to his original lonesome journey down from Icy Cape. It was an opportunity to reconnect with his roots and gauge the mood of the common folk. He tried to do it a couple of times a year.
It also gave him a chance to think, and it the midst of his current turmoil, some peace and quiet to do just that was exactly what he needed.
The inn was called Journeyman’s Haven, and its proprietor recognized him from the moment he stepped inside.
“Lord Gilbetron,” he began quickly, “‘tis good to see yous. Coming or going, sir?”
Gilbetron removed his traveling cloak. “On my way back to the Fort, Master Brombly. It’s too late in the day to head for the mountain pass, so I best wait until morning.”
“‘Tis wise,” Brombly agreed. “Allow me to take your chest up to your room.”
Gilbetron waited for Brombly and the porter to take his belongings up to the second floor room. Not quite ready to retire yet for the night, he walked over to the entrance to the common room. A traveling minstrel was in the back reciting an epic poem, perhaps The Hero of Winterland by the sounds of it, while a small crowd of listeners gathered around. There were several men at the tables, serving girls carrying out plates of supper from the kitchen.
Suddenly, he was jostled from behind as a short woman brushed him. He didn’t get a look at her. A moment later she had joined the crowd and was almost indistinguisable from the others.
“Sir Lord,” Brombly called from behind him. “Your room is ready for you. Would you like me to bring supper up or would you care to join us in the common room?”
Feeling a tingling sensation in his pocket, he instinctively dug his hand in and removed the tiny fragment of crystal given to him earlier in the street. Except it was no longer the pale, clear rock it had been. It was glowing white, complete opaque, and the light inside seemed to pulsate gently to the soothing rhythm of an unheard melody. Had something set it off? Or someone?
“I think I’ll sit downstairs,” he remarked distractedly to the proprietor as he stepped into the common room. Inside, it was quite a bit darker than he’d thought. Narrowing his eyes, he searched for the young woman who’d bumped into him earlier.