Chapter Twenty-Two

“You two sure you don’t want to pay me for another night?” the innkeeper asked as she approached the table.

The raucous laugh she let out after suggested that had been a joke. Sometimes, however, people made jokes that were also earnest questions demanding an answer. Lusya was not sure if this was one of those times, but she assumed it was.

“We must go,” Lusya said. “Our journey is time-sensitive.”

“We’ve got something really important to do!” Ariya shouted. She pumped a fist in the air for emphasis then returned to scarfing down her breakfast.

The innkeeper chuckled. “Well, best of luck with that. You seem to be in high spirits, girl.”

“Yeah!”

Indeed, Ariya seemed to have regained some energy. This in spite of at least as much exertion the previous day as normal. It might have been more, even, considering how much she had run about. Curious. Going by the innkeeper’s explanation, that may have been due to the lack of stakes or importance attached to the activity. Perhaps it also had something to do with the type or variety?

Lusya would have liked to find out more, but she did not know how long that might have taken. For now, she could live with the mystery, so long as the result was what she wanted.

“Her mood has improved,” Lusya said. “Your advice has proven valuable. You have my thanks.”

“You convinced Lusya to stay?” Ariya asked.

The innkeeper shook her head. “Like she said, I just gave her some advice. She made the decision herself.” She smiled at Lusya. “No thanks needed. I’m glad it was helpful. And it seems you gave my daughter some encouragement last night. I’d say that makes us even.”

“I was not trying to be encouraging,” Lusya said. “But I suppose it is fortunate she took it that way.”

The innkeeper shrugged. “If it works, it works. Besides, I was kind of hoping you’d say something when I sent you out there. I keep telling her she’s already fit to play in the Celestial Chorus, but she needed to hear it from someone else.”

The Celestial Chorus was, in the Glegian faith, a band in the afterlife in which all the world’s greatest saints played to bring bliss to the virtuous and purify the souls of the sinful. It was an odd concept. For one thing, Lusya doubted every saint who had ever lived was an adept musician. Glegian doctrine did not mention if such members had to receive instruction before joining the chorus.

Still, the idea that the daughter could have played well-enough to achieve such properties was hyperbolic. Her music was pleasant to listen to and not much more. That aside, hearing it mentioned all but identified the innkeeper’s accent, which Lusya had been wondering about. Glegity was popular in a small pocket of the southwest and not anywhere else on the continent.

“She is really good,” Ariya said. “Her voice is really pretty, and I like the sounds her stringy thing makes too.”

“It is called a harp,” Lusya said. “How much music have you listened to?”

Ariya frowned and cocked her head. “Just that lady and Mama singing. Why?”

“I am unsure if you have sufficient context to judge the quality of either.”

“Now, now,” the innkeeper said. “You don’t have to be an expert to know whether or not something sounds good.”

Ariya nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“I suppose that is true,” Lusya said.

“Well, safe travels,” the innkeeper said. “Drop by if you’re ever in town again.”

Seeing as this was the only lodging in the village, they would not have had much choice if that happened. Of course, it would not. Ariya would be dead and Father returned before Lusya ever had the opportunity to return to Wildbloom.

“We will,” Ariya said. “Your cooking is so good.”

The innkeeper chuckled. “Thank you, darling. The secret…” she leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “…is practice.”

She laughed again and walked away. The dining room was not as crowded as it had been the previous morning, which was why she had time to converse. There were still more than a few other villagers seated about, but all of them already had their meals. What the difference was, Lusya could not say. Maybe the villagers had collectively decided on a particular day of the week to patronize the inn.

Ariya had once again ordered the same cake. Lusya found its nutritional value dubious, but she supposed there was little issue, seeing as the child would not be eating it again. She had stopped eating, but it was unclear if that was because she was done or because she had gotten distracted.

“If you have finished your meal, we should depart now,” Lusya said.

Ariya looked at the last chunk left on her plate, big enough to be several bites, as thought she had forgotten it was there. Then she scooped it up and shoved it whole into her maw. “Ahm rdy,” she mumbled around the mouthful of food she struggled to chew.

They exchanged one more set of farewells with the innkeeper and prepared to leave. Just as they were on their way out, the innkeeper’s daughter arrived, harp in hand. Lusya had not expected she would take up playing in the inn so soon.

“Oh, are you two leaving?” the daughter asked. It had not been unkempt before, but now her hair looked to be meticulously groomed, with the back tied into a neat bun.

Lusya nodded. “We are.”

“That’s a shame.” She gestured toward an space near the counter, which had been empty before, but now had a conspicuous lone stool placed out. “I was just about to play my first song here. Are you sure you couldn’t stay and listen?”

“Can we?” Ariya asked. She tugged on Lusya’s cloak as if Lusya would not notice her otherwise. “Please?”

Lusya gently pulled Ariya’s hands off her cloak. “We are leaving.”

Ariya sighed. “Yes, Lusya.”

“Well, then, I hope your travels go well,” the daughter said. She smiled at Lusya. “And thank you. I think you told me just what I needed to hear.”

“I merely stated the obvious,” Lusya said. “I am uncertain that is deserving of thanks. But if you believe it is, then you are welcome.”

The daughter nodded. “I do. Goodbye, and good luck in your journey.”

“Farewell,” Lusya replied.

The daughter gave another smile and strode toward the counter. With that done, Lusya and Ariya departed the inn and made their way out of the village. Despite having her request refused, Ariya had a visible spring in her step as they walked. She beamed and hummed one of the song’s the daughter had played the previous night to herself.

To say that her mood had improved was an understatement. It seemed Lusya would need to consider giving Ariya more “real breaks” in the future. How often was an open question. This time it had been right around a month before she had needed one, but it was difficult to say if that would be consistent or what factors could have affected it. For now, Lusya would monitor Ariya’s mood to take rests when necessary. Once Lusya had gathered enough information, she could start planning around taking respites just before Ariya’s mood would sour. With any luck, that would also illuminate why they were effective and satisfy Lusya’s curiosity.

It would take considerable time away from their journey, but it would also help preserve Ariya’s usefulness, which would be more than worth it. Quickness was irrelevant if it ended in failure. For that matter, it may have been quicker in the long run. Even if Ariya’s fatigue would not have started affecting her Malice at some point, it would have been all but certain to slow their pace.

“They were nice,” Ariya said. “Except the tailor.”

“We did not speak to enough of the villagers to make such generalizations,” Lusya replied.

Ariya sighed. “Fine, the innkeeper and the harp lady were nice.”

“That much is true,” Lusya said with a nod.

“Towns are fun,” Ariya said. “How long until we get to the next one?”

That was an odd conclusion to draw based on the settlements they had visited so far. Riverglade had been uneventful and both Gavamir and Clearwood had seen her endangered. Perhaps the child was giving this singular positive experience disproportionate weight against other, negative ones.

“It will be some time before we reach it,” Lusya said. “I intend to bypass the closest one.”

Ariya frowned. “Aw, why?”

“It will be slightly faster,” Lusya said. “Every second we can save counts.”

She had been considering doing so from the start. Having lost time in both Clearwood and Wildbloom had solidified her decision. Even if the latter had been well-spent, she wanted to make up for it as much as she could. Though it might have been time saved in the long-term, she would not treat it as such until she was more confident in that conclusion.

Skipping the occasional town would also create less of a clear trail. At this point, she doubted they were being pursued. A serious pursuit on horseback or with carriages would almost certainly have caught up by now. Even so, it was wise to make pursuit more difficult, just in case.

It would put a strain on their resources, but Lusya believed they had enough to make it. They may have been able to stay at roadside inns or lodges to conserve some as well, when the opportunity presented itself. Such establishments were common enough. She was not the only one who did not always want to or have the luxury of stopping in a town.

“Papa says that too,” Ariya said. “Well, not that exactly, but basically the same.”

“Then your father was correct.”

Ariya stood tall, as tall as one just over three feet tall could, and grinned as if she was the one being praised. Then she frowned and tilted her head.

“Where’s the crown I made you?” Ariya asked.

“The flowers wilted,” Lusya said.

“Oh,” Ariya said, her frown growing. “I’m sorry, I should have given you something that would last longer.”

“I did not require a gift at all,” Lusya said. “You do not need to apologize.”

Ariya frowned for another moment, then broke into a smile once more. “Okay. As long as you’re not upset, I guess it’s fine. Thank you for stopping. I really liked being able to play in the village for a day.”

“If you enjoyed it and feel better, the break has served its purpose,” Lusya said.

“I did and I do. Thank you, Lusya.”