Chapter 25: Join the Guild, or Die (Part 1) — The Inn and the Hunt
I learned the elves were still looking for me the hard way.
I was halfway through the best pork stew I'd tasted in a week when I overheard the innkeeper arguing with his son in the storeroom.
I don't know how I heard them from that far behind the bar.
Maybe the road sharpened my ears.
Or maybe fear did.
"Troubling times, Mel," the innkeeper said. "We must shut down the inn and leave while we still have our savings."
"But dad, this is our home!" Mel snapped. "Our family has lived here for three generations. We can't just leave!"
"Don't be naive," the innkeeper hissed. "Did you not hear the stories? There's an army marching south causing havoc. They burn towns, villages—even cities. You think they'll spare our inn because we've been here three generations?"
"Maybe you don't believe this inn is worth dying for," Mel said. "But I do. You can leave if you want. I'm staying."
"You can't even cook onion soup, Mel!" the innkeeper barked. "How do you plan to run this place alone?"
"I'll hire desperate refugees," Mel said arrogantly, like poor people were tools to pick up and put down.
"We need to leave," the innkeeper said, voice lower now. "And that General isn't the only problem. There haven't been elves—real elves—in the open for fifty years. Now out of nowhere they come asking for a skinny boy. And the King intends to do nothing about any of it."
That line cut through the stew like a blade.
Elves.
Skinny boy.
I stopped chewing.
I waved at the nearest serving girl—the redheaded one.
She came over with a polite smile. "More juice, ser?"
"No," I said. "I need information."
I slid a silver coin across the table. "I'll pay."
Her eyes flicked to the coin, then around the inn.
She leaned in and whispered, "Follow me. Look like you're going somewhere private."
I followed her without asking questions. The walls had ears, and inns always had more ears than customers.
She led me to an empty room and closed the door.
Then she turned, staring at me like I was a problem and a prize at the same time.
"Who are you?" she asked. "Most men pay in coppers. You pay in silver. A silver coin could buy three rooms and four meals a day here. But you only want one meal and a cup of juice, and you don't even ask for change."
I sat on the edge of the bed, armour creaking softly. Thirty days in the forge had paid off—this suit wore like cloth.
"I'm the one paying for your silence," I said. "And your memory. My name is Leno of Ennox."
She flinched at my name.
Then her expression shifted into something delighted.
"It's you," she breathed. "You're the boy the elves are looking for."
"Which is why you're holding that silver," I said calmly. "Now talk. How many elves, and where were they headed?"
She swallowed and forced herself to think.
"Only four," she said. "They spoke mostly in Elven tongue. I didn't understand much, but I heard Ennox, White Wood…"
She paused.
"And something like Cobble Road… Bumpy Road…"
"You mean Cob Road and Namit Road?" I asked.
Her eyes widened. "So you're educated too."
"Peasants can be educated," I muttered. "Anything else I should know? Bounties? Search parties? The Mace twins?"
"No news leaves Mace Town," she said quickly. "But… there were rumors. Search parties. Weeks ago."
I stood.
"Then I should go."
Her cheeks reddened. "Stay. Just one night. I'll keep you company."
Tempting, in the way warm bread is tempting when you're starving.
But I wasn't starving for that.
Not tonight.
"I'm wanted," I said, opening the door. "If anyone asks, tell them I'm headed south to the Southern Islands."
She looked hurt. "Am I not beautiful?"
"Oh you're beautiful," I said. "That's part of the problem. Goodnight."
I left the inn and didn't look back.
Because if I looked back, I might've stayed.
And staying is how wanted men die.