Soaked through, by early evening of the next turn, the Cropping Village of Candal emerged through the greyness. Spirits rose at the thought of a real bed, hot food and strong lubricant to take away the chill. Joining other travellers on the main causeway meandering up from the south, the small group stayed tight, watchful of any spies. Billowing smoke puffing out of weathered stone chimneys encouraged them on, promising baking stoves were burning below. Even Kifter could not fend off hunger.
Veering off to the right, the Fife made for an Inn out on its own. The rest of the Cropping Village ran down into a shallow valley ahead. Nestled between two great trees, the large building was old and distorted from the roots crawling beneath its patchy walls. Appealing through the damp, an Out-house at the rear linked the Inn to an Enclosure for their Kyboes. Thick plumes of smoke wafted high, evidence of a hearty fire inside. Faint peachy lights glowed, the windows on the ground floor like beacons for anyone outside. The upper rooms were lifeless, hiding any activity within their shadows. The smell of cooked meat drew them in. Faded, ornate words stretched across the front entrance: Ags Ole.
Following the Fifanian’s lead, they went around the back. Debagging their mounts, the disgruntled looking lad inside the Enclosure ministered to their Kyboes. Carrying their baggage into the adjacent Out-house, a short plump woman dressed in a faded green overdress greeted them, entering through a back door of the Inn.
“It is about time you showed up again,” she said to Kifter, stepping out from behind the counter. “Wet outside is it?” she ribbed, approaching.
Kifter’s wet overcoat was not enough to dissuade her from giving him a hug. Rosy cheeked with fair shoulder length hair, she was the same height as the Fife. The boys nudged each other, thinking they were a perfect match.
Forgetting recent strains, Kifter laughed. “See how irresistible I can be?” he joked, dropping his bags to return the gesture. “It has been a while, Beenie.”
Brushing herself down from the saturated embrace, “Just what I needed. You have not changed.”
“And you too,” he said, looking her up and down.
“Cheeky.” She poked his side before returning to the counter. “So, what can we do for our Kifter?” she asked, inspecting his three young companions. “And these young men?”
“We are seeking the finest of rooms and delicious food,” the Fife said. “Do you know anywhere nearby?”
“I get this every time,” she laughed to the others.
“You pain me,” Kifter said, feigning hurt. “Am I not original?”
“Oh…, you are original, that is certain,” she laughed again. “Just make sure you do not go upsetting our customers, do you hear?”
“Me…? I am shocked.”
Surprised at the light banter, the three boys welcomed the change, the Fife showing another side to his character.
“What shall it be then?” Beenie asked, getting down to business.
“What have you got?”
Twitching her swollen nose, “I have rooms for two, three or five…, nothing else.”
Assuming Hanor would not want to be separated from the other two, the Fife bit his tongue. “We had better take the five,” he said, trusting there was enough room for his enormous Hitorian friend too. “Are there any Hites here?”
“Not that I know of.”
Intending to use Hallen to influence the boys, he only hoped the big fellow would not be too long. “As I am a cherished customer…, will the room be for the price of four?” he said, fluttering his eyes.
“I am an honest, hardworking woman, you Fifes are all the same. But on this occasion,” she said, winking at the boys. “Four it will be. But do not tell anyone, my other would have me strung.”
“You are a treasure.”
“Will you want those storing for nothing as well?” she said, indicating their bags.
“We are very hungry, and thirsty.”
“You had better be. Forty pieces of bright,” she said, holding out a chubby hand.
“Make sure they are generous helpings.”
“You are talking to the right person,” she giggled, patting her rounded tummy. “Room nine, you will find it at the end of the landing,” she said, handing him the keys.
A gruff voice hollered from inside the Inn.
“My dearest is calling me. Put those in there,” she said, signalling a large empty cubicle against the far wall for their bags. There were only two compartments left.
“Busy tonight I see,” Kifter noted. Most of the other doors were locked.
“It is the end of season fair for the weavers. They do not need an excuse to celebrate.”
“Hmm…” Kifter murmured, suspicious of what unpleasant characters might be here.
“Unlike you to react to potential customers like that.”
Loading their bags and locking the cubicle, Kifter turned. “Room nine was it?”
“I will catch up with you later then,” Beenie promised, stepping towards the back door, another shout from inside harkening her.
“Of course.”
‘Full of surprises,’ Beenie thought, leaving the Out-house.
At the end of a short corridor rose some knotted stairs, trodden and tarnished by the passing of time. The sharp odour of reed-bowls was strong, odd calls echoing from behind the closed door that led into the main Leisure Room. Coughs accompanying them, Nole looked at his brother, doubtful.
“You did want a bed,” Hanor whispered, following the Fife up the creaking stairs.
Gloomy, ale-stained walls added to the dim atmosphere, relying on one window above and behind to shed light into the dingy stairwell. Shadows from the enormous trees outside arrested the remnants of day, contributing to its direness. Their room was similar to the stairs; five beds lining one wall with two small cupboards opposite. One dirt-stained window at the end gave a poor view outside, branches and leaves scratching at the pane. Protests were unfitting considering Kifter had paid for it. Nole had a bag of brights, but refused to sleep anywhere except with Hanor. Dropping their bags, the longer they lingered, the worse they felt.
“To your liking?” Kifter asked, detecting their discomfort.
“Er…, yes, fine…, thank you,” Hanor said, trying to stay upbeat. “Better than outside.”
“Not your usual standards?” the Fife posed, a hint of sarcasm evident.
“It will do,” Nole said.
“Good…, shall we eat?” Kifter motioned towards the door. “At least we do not have to worry about Nyshifters tonight.”
A worthy point. Bane left the room first.
Entering the smoke-filled Leisure Room, Kifter led the way. Bane, as brave as he was, had stopped short of entering first, to the Fife’s obvious humour.
“Kifter!” a loud voice bellowed from behind the ale-counter. The same person who had called Beenie in the Out-house, a score of foreign faces noted their entry before returning to their own affairs.
“Dandin,” Kifter said, covering caution with a smile. “It has been a while.” Sidestepping a large figure staggering towards the door, the Fife leant against the rickety counter.
Hanor, Nole and Bane stayed alert, estimating over fifty strangers populated the sizeable room. The low beamed ceiling felt enclosing, the smoke biting their throats.
“Where have you been?” yelled the stout owner of the Inn. Two front teeth were missing within the bristly grey-streaked beard.
“Travelling wherever these ragged boots take me,” Kifter said, noting those sitting close by. “An ale for me.” Checking behind to see what the others wanted, three boys looked dreary. “You had better add another three.”
“Chimes to my heart to hear such words,” Dandin said, setting about the task. “Work I presume?” he said, indicating the three.
“Companions,” was all Kifter said.
Nothing to indicate where they were from, the barman knew they were not local. “It is always good to see a familiar face, especially one who tells tales like you do.”
“Only when asked.”
“Do not believe it for a moment,” Dandin said to the boys, lining their drinks on the counter. “The best taleteller in all The Freelands. Food?”
“A bit of everything,” Kifter said, turning when the door opened behind. Disappointed when a small fellow entered instead of his Hitorian friend, Hallen, agitation increased.
“Ahh…, there goes those chimes again,” Dandin laughed. “A table is free by the hearth.”
Sitting in an alcove, a small fireplace burned nearby, the heat thawing them through. Savouring the ale, the relief was felt by all.
When their meal arrived, they had not seen a handsome spread for an age. One roast gombol, a cut of fammet served with four generous bowls of mixed roots would have been enough, but the tray of quaner and fammet cheese, short-bakes and a large pot of hot minted broth was mouth-watering.
“Is that to your liking?” Beenie asked, pleased by their reactions.
“You have surpassed yourself as usual,” Kifter congratulated her. “You have made four weary travellers very happy.”
“My pleasure,” she said, twirling, leaving them to it.
“Where do we start?” Bane licked his lips.
“At the beginning,” Nole said, reaching for the sharp meat knife.
Conversations rarely touched upon a few grunts of approval whilst eating. Like hungry pack animals, they devoured what they could as if it was their last meal.
Observant of the three boys, Kifter could see they were close. Doubts now surfaced about his plan to send them home. The fact there were no Guarders here that he knew did not help. Deciding a word with Dandin later might produce results, someone had to be heading for Manson.
Drinks flowed, the huge meal ensuring they did not consume too much ale. Laughing, the ale simmering suspicions, Kifter shared a few short tales to his companions’ frequent astonishment. As the evening progressed, more people entered. Thick mats of smoke clung to the discoloured ceiling. A chorus of idle talk and banter merged with snaps of laughter.
Relieved, Kifter watched the newcomer settle himself at the far end of the ale-counter. Blidy Liem, a Guarder and old acquaintance, sat drinking by himself. About to make his move, a thunderous slap on the back half-winded the Fife where he stood.
“You are losing your touch,” a jovial but familiar voice boomed from behind.
Groaning at what this meant, Kifter’s plans were briefly suspended, annoyed that his Hitorian friend, Hallen had caught him out.
“I could have been one of those countless enemies you have up and down The Freelands,” Hallen said, catching Kifter up by his arms and spinning him around like a plaything.
‘He knows that infuriates me,’ the Fife squirmed, chiding himself at his own lapse. “I cannot believe I missed you entering,” he said, wounded as if losing a game. His second failure recently, it hurt. So engrossed when Blidy had entered, he had forgotten about the big Hite; a second entrance behind the route of his assault. Not exactly a difficult target to miss, Hallen’s ten hand-spans would invade the upper rooms if he were to stand erect. Kifter sighed. “How did I miss you?”
Handsome features were victorious, forgetting the last time he had caught Kifter. A game stretching back to when they were young, “I knew you would be pleased to see me,” Hallen said, putting the Fife down. Towering above everyone, his great hulking frame daunting, “Why did we have to meet here?”
Hanor, Nole and Bane sat staring at the spectacle. Hites visited Manson often, but they had never seen this one. Long, fair hair about his face and over broad shoulders was typical of most Hitorians. Rich green eyes, enchanting to any maiden, showed deep affection. Boisterous and boastful, atmospheres lightened whenever a Hite was present.
Pulling up a bench-stool, the stranger faced the boys. “Well,” he said, curious. His height was a little lower than a standing man. “I think there is some explaining to do here.” Quite certain Brandor had mentioned that only one boy was to be escorted, he looked at Kifter, disappointed.
“It is a bit of a story,” the Fife said, checking Blidy was still there. “But a situation that will sort itself out.”
“Hmm…,” the huge figure doubted, surprised at the dark curly haired one’s challenging manner. The other two he suspected were brothers.
“Help yourself to something to eat,” Nole invited, indicating the left-over food on the table. Taught that good manners made strangers feel welcome, it hid how nervous he felt.
Just about to help himself anyway, Hallen saluted the boy and did. “Kifter has not yet introduced me,” he said, mouth half-full. “But that is to be expected from one so lapse. I am Hallen…, so who might you be?”
Checking with Kifter if it was fine to talk, when the Fife signalled to do so, “I am Hanor,” he said. “And this is Nole, my brother.”
“I thought as much,” Hallen said, turning to the defensive looking Bane. “And you are?”
Heart racing, he shifted in his seat. “Bane.”
Hallen considered the predicament. “Why are there three of you?”
“We are here to support Hanor,” Bane answered, a trace of courage emerging.
“Support…!” The Hite was surprised. “I did not know he needed help.”
“Hanor needs people he can trust if he is going to Tarden,” Bane said a little too loudly.
“Sshh,” Kifter hissed, snapping at the young man. Irritated, checking no one was paying any attention, he scowled at the boy. “Do you not know what discretion is?”
Staggered by the tone, Hallen sensed more to this.
“How was your ride?” Kifter enquired, opting for a safer topic before addressing the larger problem.
Belching, to the three boys’ amusement, “It was good,” he said, drinking Kifter’s ale. “Not as good as this but… reasonably uneventful.” A glimmer sparkled in his eye.
“And what does reasonably… mean?” the Fife asked, knowing his friend well. Calming down from his outburst, he felt angry at how rattled he was of late.
“Nothing much,” Hallen said, working his way through the remainder of the food. “I stumbled across a couple of wealth collectors of the corruptible kind.”
“Thieves you mean?” Kifter said, expecting the worst.
“Yes, a couple of worthless scroungers out of practice.”
“You were gentle with them?”
“They came at me during the night,” he shrugged. “What could I do?”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing to worry about. Someone should have found them by now.”
Kifter was unsure if he wanted to know. “And where are they?”
Scratching his jaw, “Upside down.”
“Where… upside down?”
“Up a tree of course.”
Never doing things in half-measures, “How far up a tree?”
Hallen shrugged, raising his hand to touch the ceiling. “As high as I could get them. I could not help myself, I had to do something to teach them a lesson.”
“Your Mother would cringe if she knew half the things you did,” the Fife managed to laugh. “But you are right, some people do need to learn the hard way.” Tempted to look at Bane, he had no idea why the young fellow bothered him so much. ‘He is just as you were’. Discarding the thought, nothing could justify their presence.
“Perhaps we can go over recent travels when these little ones are safely in bed.”
Seizing the moment, “It has been a long turn,” Hanor said, expecting more arguments if they were to stay. Kifter’s ability to go hot and cold was worrying. He had a task to do, but his intolerance of Bane seemed more than that. “We will make this drink our last.”
“A wise move,” the Fife approved.
“Can I ask you something?” Bane said to Hallen.
The others hesitated, uneasy at what he was about to say.
“Please do.”
“Where are you going to sleep tonight? The beds are not big enough.”
Disbelieving such harmless concerns were possible in the changeable atmosphere, sniggers swept the group.