The Vineyard Tavern

[Chathol-linn]

Many folk passed by the Vineyard Tavern on the main road. But if you approached it from the back, as Seregon did, you got a different view.

Seregon picked her way around the outbuildings, some under construction, so necessary for the running of an inn – a stable, sheds, privy, and so forth. She was hungry. She and her sisters had been tramping for days, sleeping rough, making for Laketown as it rebuilt itself. Now her sisters were waiting in a likely-looking field on the outskirts of the town while Seregon had a look around.

That apple tree looks good, Seregon thought. It is rare to see one spared by the dragon fire. I hope they don’t begrudge me a few apples. And Seregon began to climb the apple tree at the back of the inn. Whoever had lived here previously had taken good care of this tree, because its limbs were shapely with shiny healthy leaves and the fruit was already ripening. Seregon’s green breeches and tunic blended in so well that no one could have told there was a young woman halfway up the tree’s trunk. She stopped there to eat an apple.

I cannot pay for these, for that costs “money” and I have none, she thought. I can work, though, and I will work the better for having eaten some lunch. Maybe the innkeep will let me work for some food for my sisters, too. And maybe, just maybe, I can find the right person to ask about … But at that moment, in mid-bite, Seregon looked through a window into a bedchamber in the inn, and she nearly dropped her apple.

She saw the backside of a tall figure. He – for it was clearly a he – was partially wrapped in a towel and was scrambling to keep it about him while with the other hand he reached to take some garments from a blushing girl. Even through the window Seregon could see that her face was bright red. As Seregon watched, smiling, the tall figure lunged for the garments and in so doing, lost his struggle with the towel. The inn girl bent to pick up the clothes, the tall figure did so too, and Seregon saw them both knock heads and fall down in a heap.

Seregon laughed. “A merry old inn!” she said aloud. “I think I’ll try my luck!” She finished the apple, being sensible above all else, and headed for the inn’s front door.

Next thing the Vineyard’s patrons knew, there was a short slender woman standing in the doorway. She had a bowl-shaped head of black hair and a single braid behind her ear that was dancing as she waved. “Greetings!” she was saying. “Greetings!”