Alabastrine

late night

I needn’t have worried. This is the first inn I’ve stayed at in months, and when I looked in a proper mirror, I was shocked by my reflection. I’m so gaunt that I barely recognize myself, and I doubt someone who saw me for a couple of days eight months ago would do so, either. While Davio taught me a handful of spells that were useful for a life spent mostly on the road–including one that kept me clean enough to neither look nor smell like the vagrant I’ve become–none of them provided food. This is what weeks of near-starvation look like.

The point was driven home when I sat down for a late lunch in the common room. The server put a large bowl of stew in front of me and said, “This one is on the house.” I didn’t ask. I knew why.

“I can perform tonight, if you like,” I said to her. The inn was nothing special, but I couldn’t afford better. Truthfully, I couldn’t afford “nothing special”, either, but I had to stay somewhere, and the cheap ones aren’t great for live music. Some aren’t even safe to sleep in. If they’d have me, I could make this one work.

She gave me a skeptical look–I would have done the same in her position–and she told me I’d need to speak to their manager first. Fair enough. It was just another audition, and I’ve had plenty of those.

I’d set aside some of the money for a flute, and finding a simple wooden one in the city markets was easy enough. It was a far cry from what I had been playing the past couple of years, but it would do. A couple of hours later, I was performing for the evening crowd.

As absurd as it sounds, playing taverns and inns along the way is my plan for reaching Breachill without starving. The math barely works. Most nights I’d just break even, but if a few go as well as tonight, I’ll come out ahead. If not… well, I am trying not to think about “if not”.

I’m also trying not to think about Isger. We didn’t spend more than a few weeks there, but that was long enough to make me dread going back. To put it bluntly, I don’t feel safe there.

Traveling the roads in Druma carries little risk. For all that people complain about the Mercenary League being cozy with the Kalistocracy, they do a good job of keeping the trade routes free of trouble. I have walked countless miles both in small groups or completely alone, and I rarely felt threatened. Isger is another matter entirely. I’ll have Iskaryn to watch out for me, sure, but I am better off not traveling by myself.

But that’s a problem for another day.