Page 16 of A Tale of Mirth & Magic

B ARRA

B y the time we got to the stables of the Painted Dragon, I was about ready to fall asleep.

This was much more excitement than I was used to.

I had my routines, my rituals at home. And while I did travel sometimes for my work with our family business, it had never been this unpredictable.

Or exhilarating. Being with Elikki nonstop for over a day was the most fun I’d had in… well, years.

But I was also exhausted. I needed a bath, a hot meal, and a large bed. I helped Elikki down from the saddle and grabbed the packs we’d want for the evening. After checking Pebble’s hooves quickly and giving the stablehand a few instructions on her care, we entered the inn.

It was as warm and cozy as always. A crackling fire burning in the large hearth filled the room with a comforting, smoky scent.

Just a handful of patrons occupied the main room.

Most folks in Kurriel kept their evenings quite tame in the week leading up to a Rising Night, and there was one coming up in just a few days.

Held every month as one ended and another began, it paid homage to the two facets of the Dual Goddess: sun and moon.

Day and night. Beginning and end. That was the symbolic meaning, at least. In reality, across most of the lands, apart from the priories, the monthly tradition was more an excuse to let off some steam with the indulgent merriment of Rising Night.

And then, of course, have a lazy, post-revelry lie-in the next morning of Resting Day.

To the left of the main room was a sturdy wooden bar, handled by Saho, one of the innkeepers and someone whom I considered a friend. A half-elf with green-copper skin, they had a restless energy and an insatiable thirst for gossip.

I led Elikki up to the bar and hailed Saho from one end.

“Good to see you again, Barra!” they said. “And who is this incandescent vision you’ve brought tonight?”

Elikki preened. After setting down her pack, she extended a hand. “Elikki Sunstorm. Jeweler. Elf mage. Bewitcher of hearts.” She threw Saho one of her enticing smiles as they swooned melodramatically.

“Okay, okay. Saho, Elikki. Elikki, Saho. Now you’ve met,” I said. “Saho, is Legus here? Your partner ? We’d like to arrange for rooms tonight.”

“Rooms? As in plural?” they said, chewing on a hangnail and looking us over skeptically.

“Yes, two rooms,” I said. I refused to look at Elikki.

“Okayyy,” they said. “I suppose that can be arranged. I’ll go find him.”

They called a barmaid over and then disappeared into the kitchens. I ordered a pot of peppermint tea, and Elikki got a large mug of mulled wine. We both asked for the day’s soup. I also got a chicken pot pie and urged her to do the same.

“Trust me—Saho is an incredible cook. Their pot pie is half of the reason I ever even travel this far on business.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m so ready for this hot meal, I’ll eat anything that’s put in front of me. Two pot pies, please!” she chirped to the barmaid with a wink. The woman smiled back and went into the kitchens behind the bar to put in their order.

Elikki took a glug of her steaming wine. “Goddesses, that’s delicious,” she said with a groan.

I watched her throat move, captivated by the soft skin there. Her neck, her collarbone—I wanted to run my fingers over it all. Pull her close to me like when we danced in the road and kiss her.

Eyes closed in contentment, Elikki did a full body wiggle as the hot liquid traveled through her, drawing my gaze down to her full chest. The tops of her breasts peeking out from the yellow corset moved enticingly as she did her happy dance.

I shook myself and turned away, back to the bar where my tea now sat. I focused on pouring it out. The comforting smell of peppermint cleared my head a bit, and I took a careful sip.

E LIKKI

“Two soups for the sir and his lady.”

Saho reappeared carrying two deep wooden bowls filled to the brim with a creamy mushroom soup sprinkled with herbs.

A tall red-scaled dragonborn who I assumed was Legus trailed behind them with utensils, cloth napkins, and a basket of rolls.

He had a delicate tattoo on his right pinky finger, encircled with runes for stability, faith, love.

A common tradition for dedicated partners in Kurriel, and I spotted a matching runic tattoo on Saho.

In a deep voice, Legus said, “Barra Draos. Welcome back to the Painted Dragon. Let’s get you both settled at a table.”

He led the way to a well-worn table with four large and sturdy chairs.

I didn’t always trust a wood chair. If they were old or shoddily made, they might not hold my weight.

It was safest to test them out a little at a time, sitting on it halfway at first. But these looked so stable, and both Legus and Barra sat their even larger frames heavily onto them.

I plopped onto mine and took another happy swig of my mulled wine.

I was beginning to realize another reason besides the food why Barra came here regularly.

With his size as a half-giant, it was probably difficult to find places that could accommodate him.

But at an inn owned by a dragonborn, who looked to be almost seven feet tall himself, everything would already be tailored to fit guests of varying sizes.

Even the utensils Legus had brought out for us were different. My spoon was a normal size—what I thought of as “normal” anyway—but the handle of Barra’s was almost twice as big as mine. Seeing me observing him, he raised one eyebrow.

Saho placed the soup in front of us, and I inhaled the savory steam.

“Mmm, thank you,” I said, ripping apart a warm roll and dunking half into the soup.

Saho waited until we’d taken our first bites and heaped praise on them before they hopped back to the kitchen.

The earthy garlicky mushroom flavor was delicious, with just the right amount of salt and creamy richness.

It warmed up my insides, and the blazing hearth fire nearby chased the chill away from my fingers and toes.

A halfling sat in an armchair in one corner, strumming prettily on a small harp.

There were a few patrons scattered around the room, and the atmosphere was peaceful.

People ate and talked, dice hit a nearby table where two dwarves played, and the fire crackled and popped merrily.

The halfling’s gentle music floated around the room.

It felt good to be indoors again. Safe and warm. Before I’d learned my metalsmithing trade and figured out how to live on my own, I’d spent many of my days and nights outside. More than I cared to remember.

Now though, I made enough coin that I could always afford to stay at inns or taverns on the road, even if not all were as nice as this lovely place.

Or I’d barter with a kind family, trading jewelry or metalwork tasks in exchange for staying in a spare room of their house for a week.

Sometimes—the most fun times—I’d find an attractive local and have a fling at their place.

Barra and Legus had been chatting quietly as I’d been lost in my soup and my thoughts. When I set my spoon down in the now-empty bowl and let out a contented sigh, they both looked over.

“I see you are as taken with my Saho’s cooking as Barra is,” Legus said, his voice an alluring rumble.

“That,” I said, “was the best soup I’ve ever had in my life.”

He inclined his horned head at the compliment, baring sharp teeth in a smile. “Be sure to tell the chef. Saho lives for praise about their craft,” he said.

“I will.” I grinned back. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Elikki.”

“A pleasure to host you at our humble inn, dear,” Legus said.

He pulled two iron keys from his pocket.

“Your favorite room is available, friend,” he said, placing one in front of Barra. He laid the other down near me, saying, “And the Yellow Room for you, my dear. Saho thought it fitting.” He gestured one clawed hand toward my butter-yellow corset.

“Oh, thank you. Um… what are your rates?” I said, taking out my coin purse.

“For friends, one silver each,” he said.

“Are you sure? That hardly seems like enough,” I said, skeptical.

“I am sure,” Legus said without budging.

I laid down the paltry amount and added one more silver. “For the outstanding food and drink,” I explained, firmly ignoring his protests. Barra also laid down two silvers.

The dragonborn inclined his head again. “I will have Saho bring out dessert as well. Will you both be wanting baths upstairs?”

With our enthusiastic yesses, he swept the coins into a large pocket and left to prepare our rooms, lifting our heavy packs with ease.

Saho trotted out from the kitchen soon after with our steaming pot pies, the barmaid following with drink refills.

I persuaded Saho to join us for a while since it was a slow night.

They grabbed a pint of cider and sat down with a dramatic groan.

“Agghhh, my achy bones. I’m getting old,” they said, clutching their back.

Barra chuckled. “Saho, you’re still in your thirties, same as me. And you’re a half-elf. You’re not allowed to complain like that until you’re at least eighty.”

“Tell that to my bad back, know-it-all,” they said. “All that hunching over the stove, chopping vegetables—I’m aging prematurely!” They twisted their torso, face a mask of pain. “Don’t you hear my creaky bones crying out? Ahhh, this arduous life!”

The barmaid, who was dropping off a bowl of nibbles for Saho, rolled her eyes and raced to clean up a spill a few tables over while she balanced a leaning tower of dirty pint glasses with the other hand.

“Well, I’m sure everyone deeply appreciates your efforts. This is certainly some of the best food I’ve eaten.” I was already halfway through my chicken pot pie. I almost didn’t want to finish because I knew I’d be sad when it was gone.

“Just some of the best? Not the best?” Saho cried. They stared at me, wringing their apron in their hands.