The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) (17 page)

A rumbling drew his attention. Rounding a bend ahead, two horses pulling a wagon came into view. The wagon sped down the road followed by a trail of dust. Two bouncing bodies sat in the driver
’
s seat. A man with a wide-brimmed hat held the reins while the blonde woman beside him flashed the boys a smile. The sight made Brock think of Hank.

Over the next mile, Brock saw increasing signs of civilization as the trees gradually gave way to man-made dwellings. Entering the city, he could see the lake to the southeast between the buildings he passed. People milled about on the street. Shops were open, busily selling their wares. Men and women strolled purposefully, going about their business.

At random, Brock pointed to an inn next to the road. The wooden sign above the door was carved with the image of a headless woman, her arms spread wide as if she were welcoming them. Tipper nodded and entered the inn with Brock a step behind.

Since it was mid-afternoon, the inn was quiet. Four women sat around the only occupied table, sharing local gossip. An eruption of giggles emerged in reaction to something said.

Brock smiled. It was nice to see something normal. It felt comforting.

“
Can I help you boys?
”

Turning toward the table, he saw one of the women approaching. She was a voluptuous middle-aged woman with long brown hair and blue eyes. She reminded him of Sally, despite the rune of
Dominus
that marked her forehead.

“
Hello.
”
Brock flashed a smile.
“
We
’
re looking for a place to room for a few nights.
”

“
You don
’
t say,
”
she responded.
“
I assume you have the coin to pay for your stay.
”

“
Yes.
”
Brock dug into his coin purse, placing one silver on the table.
“
What will this buy us?
”

A friendly smile spread across her face as she swept up the silver. Her smile was engaging and contagious like Sally
’
s.

“
That will buy you both full room and board for two nights.
”

“
That includes food and baths?
”
Brock said.

She nodded.
“
Breakfast is served at sunrise, dinner at sunset. You
’
re on your own for lunch,
”
the woman replied. She smiled again and extended her hand.
“
My name is Adorya, but everyone calls me Dory. Welcome to The Quiet Woman.
”

PART III: THE QUIET WOMAN

CHAPTER 26

After leaving their packs in a room upstairs, Brock and Tipper were led to a back room on the main level of the inn. Inside the room were two large copper tubs, half-filled with water. A fire was burning in the brick fireplace on the far wall. Dory pulled a black kettle off the fire and set it on the hearth, steam rising from the water inside.

“
The water in the tubs is cold. Add some hot water from the kettle until its warm enough. There
’
s a bar of soap for you to share.
”
Dory walked to the door.
“
Would you like to have your clothes cleaned? We have a steam cleaner we bought from the Academy a few years back. We can get your clothes clean and dry in a few hours. It
’
ll be another four coppers though.
”

Brock nodded.
“
Clean clothes would be great. Let
’
s do that.
”

“
Okay.
”
She opened the door to leave.
“
I
’
ll have the maid come by to grab your clothing. Enjoy your bath, boys.
”

She closed the door, leaving them alone. Brock used a hot-pad to lift the kettle, pouring steaming water into each tub while Tipper got undressed. A minute later, they were each soaking in a warm bath.

There was a knock on the door. Before they could respond, the handle turned and a girl poked her head into the room.

“
Sorry sirs, but I
’
m here to get your clothes for steam cleaning.
”
Seeing them safely in the tubs, she entered the room.

Her straight black hair was tied into a tail in the back. She had large brown eyes and an olive complexion. Her clothes wore loose on her thin frame.

“
You can wear these robes until your clothes are ready.
”
She set some towels and robes on a bench near the wall.

Scooping up the dirty clothes from the floor, she hurried from the room, her eyes downcast the entire time.

Tipper stared at the door after it closed.
“
At least I
’
m not the only Unchosen in this town.
”

Brock nodded.
“
Yes, I noticed that. It
’
s interesting that Dory has an Unchosen working for her. That
’
s
…
uncommon.
”

“
She
’
s also pretty,
”
Tipper said, still staring at the door.

“
Okay, lover boy.
”
Brock splashed water at his friend.
“
Toss me that soap.
”

He proceeded to scrub the grime of their travels from his body. When he was finished, the bath water was decidedly darker. It felt good to be clean again. He climbed out and toweled dry while Tipper scrubbed his own filth away.

As Brock tied the towel around his waist, he noticed a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a razor resting on the vanity. Standing before the small mirror, he examined his reflection.

Brock had always been fit from the physical labor of working in his father
’
s shop. Nine days of hard travel with little food had worn away any remaining softness. He could easily see the ripples of muscles beneath his otherwise flat stomach. The muscles on his chest and arms were more defined.

His gaze shifted to his face, looking more tan and rugged behind a patchy layer of scruffy hair. Deciding it was time for a clean shave; he soaped up and took the blade to his face. Minutes later, he rinsed the soap from his cheeks and toweled dry. His face now felt smooth with just two small cuts, leaving red smears on the towel.

He turned to see Tipper standing in his robe.

“
Don
’
t you want to shave?
”
Brock asked Tipper.

The response was a shrug.
“
It don
’
t bother me. It
’
s hard to see with my blonde hair anyway.
”

“
Okay. Let
’
s go then,
”
Brock said, walking out the door.

.   .   .

Hearing a noise, Brock
’
s eyes fluttered open to see Tipper asleep on the other bed. Glancing out the window, he saw long shadows covering the street. It was nearly time for dinner.

A knock on the door made him jump. He pulled his robe closed before responding.

“
Come in.
”

The door opened, and a head peeked around the corner.

“
Sorry, sirs.
”

The maid they had met earlier entered, placing their folded clothes on a chair near the door.

“
Your clothes are clean and dry.
”
She absently pulled a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
“
Is there anything else you need?
”

“
Yes,
”
Tipper replied. Brock hadn
’
t realized that he was awake.
“
I believe a proper introduction is what I
…
I mean we need. This is Brock, and I
’
m Tipper,
”
he said with a grin.

“
Nice to meet you
…
um
…
Mr. Brock and Mr. Tipper,
”
she said, shyly.
“
My name is Libby. I
’
m the maid here at the inn. If there
’
s anything you need, let me know.
”

Tipper took two steps and grabbed her hand. She looked startled as he bent to kiss it, his face sporting an even wider grin after lifting his lips from the back of her hand.

“
It
’
s a pleasure to meet you, Libby. Please call me Tipper. No need to be formal.
”
He smiled his best smile, locking eyes with the girl.

Her stoic face cracked, a smile blooming. Brock had to admit she had a nice smile. She pulled her hand back, breaking eye contact. Her eyes opened wide and her hand went to her mouth.

“
Oh my!
”
She squeaked, darting out the door.

When Brock looked to where her eyes had gone before fleeing, he burst out laughing.

“
Showing her all your best moves already, aren
’
t you, lover boy?
”
he said with laughter.

Tipper
’
s face showed his confusion as Brock collapsed on the bed, tears running down his face. Tipper finally looked down, noticing that his robe had fallen open.

“
Oh no,
”
Tipper moaned.

Brock laughed even harder.

CHAPTER 27

The Quiet Woman was anything but quiet. Pausing on the landing, Brock surveyed the room below. He noticed four men sitting at a table in a corner. One man worked behind the bar and another was waiting on tables. The rest of the room was filled with women.

Completing their descent, he and Tipper weaved their way toward the bar. While crossing the room, Brock heard women chatting with sprinkles of laughter. Eyes turned toward them as they passed. Some of the women scanned the boys from head to toe, openly appraising them. He felt a bit like livestock at the market, these women evaluating him for purchase. Whispers and giggles followed in their wake.

They sat at two open barstools and signaled for the bartender. The handsome man, roughly ten years older than Brock, finished washing two wine glasses and slid over to greet them. Wiping his hands on his apron, the man flashed a smile. His perfect teeth seemed to glow against his tanned face and short-trimmed brown beard. He had bright blue eyes, strong brown eyebrows, and light brown hair with long bangs partially covering the rune of
Famulus
. He pushed the bangs back with one hand and addressed the boys.

“
You must be our new guests. Dory said you would be down for dinner. I
’
m James. What can I get you to drink?
”
He flashed a big white smile.

Tipper spoke first.
“
I
’
ll take an ale, please.
”

James shook his head.
“
Sorry, but we don
’
t serve ale. We do have a fine selection of wine though.
”

Brock realized he hadn
’
t seen any mugs on the tables. He turned and glanced around the room. While most of the women had wine glasses, some drank from tan cups. Steam was rising from many of them.