The Elder's Path (11 page)

The following day Lyn went downstairs to the
inn keep to pay for another night, only to find that her fare had been paid for already. When she asked by whom it had been paid, the innkeeper simply shrugged and said it had been paid earlier that morning. Lyn suspected that Satora had paid her way, and she was determined to confront him about it. She hadn’t taken his money the first time, she wasn’t going to do it this time. But he had already paid for her today, so she thought she may as well make use of it and have breakfast. After she was finished with her meal, she was surprised to find that Satora had been away all morning and wasn’t expected back until evening. Shrugging, she decided to spend the day with Alir.

She was finding it easier and much less trying to share consciousness with him, and they both found it to be an exhilaratin
g experience. After spending the day thus, she decided to retire to her room to write in her journal. She was not yet ready to make plans to move forward, nor had she really even reached out much to the people here; she was still recovering from the ascent and didn’t feel particularly inclined to go back to her duties. She knew she had to, and she no longer was shadowed by the doubt of her abilities to do so, but she simply wasn’t ready just yet. It turned out to be fortuitous that she was not planning her next steps, because she was interrupted shortly by a knock on the door. Brow furrowed, she opened the door, wondering who it could be. She was surprised to see one of Satora’s men standing with his hands behind his back, face passive.

“My master Satora ha
s requested that you come and dine with us tonight. We’re over in the tavern across the way, already have a table and everything. Shall I tell him you’re coming, then?”

“Your
master
Satora? I thought you traveling bandits were all free and equal men? Besides, where’s your mask?”

To the man’s credit, he remained stoic and paused only for a moment before deciding on his answer. “Even bandits have
hierarchy, miss, and I don’t wear my mask because there is no danger of my being recognized here.”

Lyn looked a
t him sidelong, but decided to acquiesce. “Tell Satora I’ll be there, just give me a moment to...freshen up.”

He raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, but nodded and turned away.

“What a group of people we’ve met along the way, hey Alir?” Lyn moved over to the looking glass and pulled her hair back in to a ponytail. She wasn’t as disheveled as she usually looked, since most of her day consisted of sitting and meditating, but somehow she felt pressure to look better. After nitpicking about herself for a few moments she threw up her hands and walked out.

For having never been in to a tavern before, this one was much the way she had expected it to be; dimly lit, filled with long tables and benches that were full of the local men eating and drinking. The sound
of yelling and laughter and clinks of glasses filled the place. Smells of food came from the kitchen and Lyn found she was indeed quite hungry.

“Lass, over here!”
a familiar voice called out. Lyn turned about to find a hand waving over the head of one of the large northmen. She squeezed and maneuvered her way about until she came to a large table full of Satora’s men and women, all unmasked. Satora himself sat at the head, still masked. Lyn found herself disappointed that she wouldn’t be seeing his face, and resolved to try to catch him without the mask. A seat had been evidently reserved just for her nearest to Satora, and prompted by a wink from the bandit leader, she took it. Immediately, a flagon was placed in front of her and a bowl of stew with bread. She looked around, not sure if she should wait or not, but the man to her other side gave her a small nudge with his elbow, and brought his glass up. Lyn smiled, clinked hers against his, and the drinking began.

Morning came violently as Lyn woke with a
killer headache. She took a moment of staring at the ceiling before she was ready to move her head, and when she did she found that she was back in her room at the inn. She puzzled, but could not recall coming back. When she had been with Yusef’s caravan, she had drunk with the caravan guards, but even they could not have prepared her for the sheer volume of alcohol imbibed by Satora’s gang. Those men and women drank like there was no tomorrow, and just then Lyn was wishing there hadn’t been. A knock at her door startled her and rang through her head painfully. She groaned, and the lock clicked.

The door opened to reveal Satora, dressed in his usual garb, standing with his hands on his hips. “Well, what have we here? Is this a hangover?”

Lyn groaned again and put her pillow over her head. “Don’t talk so loud.”

A muffled chuckle made its way to her ears and she could hear footsteps on the floor. With a scraping sound, the bandit threw open the curtains and pulled the pillow off Lyn’s head. She yelped in re
sponse to the light, and then cringed at her own noise.

Alir let out a cry to join in the cacophony, adding to the pounding in Lyn’s head. “Urgh,” she managed, closing her eyes tight. So miserable was Lyn that she couldn’t even muster up the wherewithal t
o scold Satora for breaking in to her room. The bandit gently lifted her head and placed the pillow behind it, propping her up. He produced a cup of cold water, which Lyn drank gratefully. Despite how much she had drunk last night, she felt dry as a desert.

“I suspected you hadn’t had any water,” her visitor said quietly. “This will help. So will this.” He motioned and one of the women from last night brought in a tray with some light food. Lyn had found that she was quite prone to nausea after nights of d
rinking, but surprisingly the articles on the tray did not turn her stomach. She ate them slowly and gratefully, taking sips of water between at Satora’s direction.

When she had composed herself well enough to bathe and dress, Satora had already gone for
the day. While her headache had subsided a notable amount, she was nowhere near ready to be productive. So she spent the day wandering about the town some, looking at the different architecture and people going about their business.

One thing that made Br
ightpeak so interesting was the diversity; while the people were all of larger build and seemingly fairer stock, there was much difference in their appearance and trades. Their homes especially told the story; each home was built in different style. Some few were made with stone, but most with wood. Some had thatched roofs, some wooden planking, some longhouses with stretched skin for doors, some cabins with glass windows. It was all so different, and gave a distinct impression of varying backgrounds and inspirations.

Lyn found it refreshingly beautiful. Her own forest village was fairly cut and dry; their ancestors had constructed the place and there had been few modifications since. But this place showed homes old and new, large and small, and with such d
ifferent presentation so as to give a feeling of openness Lyn had not yet experienced. Combined with the lack of city walls and surprisingly good-naturedness of those who made their lives there, Lyn found she was happy in Brightpeak indeed. Admittedly, if she was being honest with herself, it was fun to have Satora around, too.

As per usual, she was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly didn’t notice a small store set to the side of one of the larger houses. Curious, Lyn took a peek through the window an
d was delighted to see it was a clothing store.

Lyn had never been much for dressing up or having a different outfit for every day; she was more of a ‘signature look’ kind of gal. But she had been in the same few sets of clothes since she started this jou
rney, and while her armor needed no adjustment other than a good oiling, she certainly needed some additional clothing and another good cloak.

“There is no way I’m going back down this mountain unprepared this time!” Lyn promised herself. But she was shor
t on coin, and while she found Satora had paid her way at the inn again, she could neither rely upon his continued kindness nor accept money outright. She began to think about how she was going to find work in order to sustain herself. While her people had no need of currency, she understood that the rest of the world revolved around it. Coming from a community that did not participate in such a ritual gave her an outsider’s perspective on the whole process, and she personally found it ludicrous. What good were little chunks of metal and gem compared to practical tools, food, or shelter? Lyn had never understood the concept that people worked their entire lives to amass a pile of these gold and silver coins, that people had fought and died over them, and that with a big enough pile you could get away with just about anything. Frankly, she had always found it disgusting. Her mother and Nana had told her stories growing up about monsters that hid in the bodies of men; greedy monsters that consumed everything around them but were never sated and would keep gorging themselves until they were discovered and slain by the townsfolk. The young druid had trouble distinguishing between the greedy monster in the stories and the greedy folk she had heard about in reality. After all, anyone who was willing to kill another for the sake of a shiny trinket was surely less than human, right?

But to her dismay, she had found that the world at large did not agree with her. In fact, when she had told Yusef that she had such little
money for such a large journey he had frowned and looked to Zhiva with a significant glance.

“How naive they must find me,” Lyn said under her breath. “How quaint I must seem for caring nothing for their currency or trade. I simply can’t understand what
the big deal is. Not that I really want to...” She turned away from the window and began walking down the street. As she did so, she noticed one of the men from last night leaning against the side of a house just a few feet away from her. He seemed not to notice her, and as she passed by she noticed he was packing a pipe to smoke. She gave him a smile and a wave, and he nodded to her absently in return.

That evening she received another invitation to dinner, this time from Satora himself. And thankfully, i
t was just a quiet dinner at the inn, sans alcohol. She found that the inn had its own charm; it lacked the rowdy and raucous joy of the tavern, and was better lit. The smell of warm bread wafted from the kitchen, and the fireplace crackled with warmth. There were a few scattered individuals enjoying a quiet meal, but the inn was much emptier than the tavern had been. Satora pulled out a chair for her and guided her in to it. He sat across from her and pointed to their table, to which one of the inn staff responded by coming directly to them and asking for their order. Lyn waited expectantly for Satora to interject and order for her but to her surprise he sat quietly, eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for her. She ordered a simple meal, as her stomach was still rather uneasy, but Satora did not object.

“
I have to say, I have found a love for the night life, but there is really something to be said for a quiet night in with a simple meal.” Lyn said as she started in on the soup she had ordered.

A smile came in
to the bandit’s eyes and he said, “Simple meal, perhaps, but never simple company. I do agree though; I have a penchant for outings and excitement my own self, but a quiet night of relaxation does wonders. Especially with such a beautiful date.”

Lyn roll
ed her eyes in response. “Please, Satora, I’m not half as pretty as some of the girls in your entourage.”

“Oh no, I was referring to myself!” Satora said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh good. For a moment I was thinking you were going to be in another one of your dreadfully dull phases of saying something meaningful.”

Pretending to be taken aback, Satora put a hand to his head dramatically and said
, “Gods save me from being dull!”

--

The next few days passed in a similar manner; each morning Lyn would go down to pay her way at the inn only to find that it had already been done by a mysterious third party, each day Satora would be out for the duration but back in time to meet her for dinner. One morning she even found some new clothes bundled up on her bed when she returned from her early outing with Alir. She started to feel guilty about accepting the hospitality of this “stranger,” though she knew it was Satora, but the money was already spent. She suspected Satora knew she would not accept his help otherwise and as such continued to operate without including her. However, what truly surprised and somewhat unnerved her was how well the clothes ended up fitting.

She began to notice that everywhere she went, she saw at least one of Satora’s people.
Granted, the town wasn’t overly sizable, but she began to suspect Satora was having her followed.

At dinner one evening she confronted him about it, but he brushed it off saying
, “Dear Lyn, I of all certainly understand the need to constantly be at the center of attention, but I assure you my people and myself have much more important things to do than follow you around all day.” Lyn the World-Walker did not believe in coincidence, but she was content to let it lie with the assumption that Satora was simply looking out for her in his capacity.

As much as she had enjoyed her time of recovery, Lyn was beginning to feel restless. To alleviate this, she started reaching out to the townsfolk each day on her excursions. She began to meet people, learn their cult
ure and their histories, and generally made herself a more public figure. She even found some work in one of the kitchens assisting the cook. She learned quite a bit and especially loved the early rush of the morning; the smell of fresh, warm bread and pastries made up for the early working crowd. They paid her a modest wage, and while Lyn was relieved to be making her own way, she was more excited about the experience.