you wait?’
The innkeeper brushed instinctively at the grubby apron spread across his ample torso. Femke glanced at his hands. At least he had clean nails, she thought. That was a good sign. His face looked
flushed, though the room was not overly warm. She could only presume that this was his normal complexion.
‘Would it be too presumptuous to ask for food and drink to be taken to my room?’ she asked. ‘I’d appreciate some privacy and quiet this evening, as I’m tired and
not in the mood for company.’
He nodded, his expression one of understanding.
‘I’ll take your order shortly,’ he replied. ‘Just bear with me whilst I arrange a room for you. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Femke looked around. The taproom was typical of the locality: dimly lit, a low ceiling with exposed beams, and tables of various shapes and sizes, many of them showing the signs of repairs. The
room smelled of smoke from the open fire mixed with odours of cooking food and a hint of stale beer, most likely from spillages that had not been properly cleaned up. The smell was not unpleasant,
but neither did it cause her to inhale deeply to soak it up.
The door of the inn opened again and a figure, hooded and cloaked in black, stepped in across the threshold. Femke instinctively reached for her most accessible blade. The stranger took a couple
of steps inside, threw back his hood and unbuttoned his cloak. Several of the regulars instantly called out greetings. He was clearly well known here. She let out the breath she had instinctively
held. Blood pounded in her ears as she felt the burn of adrenalin deep in her gut. She began to relax a little again, though she remained edgy. She watched the newcomer carefully until one of the
serving girls had brought him a drink and he had settled himself at a table with two of the other regulars.
After a couple of minutes the innkeeper bustled back into the room. ‘I have a room that should meet your needs, my Lady,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Come this way,
please.’
Femke got to her feet and allowed the innkeeper to lead her through a doorway into the heart of the inn. The corridor was narrow, and a rickety wooden staircase at the end of it climbed steeply
around two right-angled corners to the first floor. There was another narrow passageway at the top of the stairs. Doors were situated at regular intervals along both walls. The innkeeper led her
forwards until they reached the penultimate door on the right. Here he stopped and produced a large iron key from his apron pocket.
‘This will be your room, my Lady. It’s one of our better ones.’
Femke stepped through the door and into the bedroom. It looked comfortable, if a bit spartan. There was a bed, a single chair, a small chest of drawers, a boot rack, a cloak stand and a tiny
dahl table. The walls were decorated with hangings that had seen better days. Bare wooden floorboards were covered in two places by small rugs – one next to the bed and one in front of the
chest of drawers. There was also a small, wall-mounted mirror at an average lady’s face height above the dahl table.
‘This will do fine, thank you,’ she assured him.
‘Very good, my Lady. Young Thommis will be up with your saddlebags shortly. Now, what would you like to eat? We have roast beef and vegetables, or rabbit pie, on the menu
tonight.’
‘Some of the beef and vegetables will be fine, thank you. And a small glass of ale, please.’
‘Beef and vegetables with a small glass of ale – no problem. I’ll be back with your food just as soon as I can. Will there be anything else, my Lady?’
Femke was tempted to ask for a tub of water in which to bathe, but she did not anticipate staying long enough to enjoy a bath. ‘No,’ she said, giving him a tired smile. ‘The
food and drink will be all, thanks.’
The innkeeper withdrew. As soon as she was sure he was not going to re-enter, she went straight to the window and partially opened it. A
The innkeeper brushed instinctively at the grubby apron spread across his ample torso. Femke glanced at his hands. At least he had clean nails, she thought. That was a good sign. His face looked
flushed, though the room was not overly warm. She could only presume that this was his normal complexion.
‘Would it be too presumptuous to ask for food and drink to be taken to my room?’ she asked. ‘I’d appreciate some privacy and quiet this evening, as I’m tired and
not in the mood for company.’
He nodded, his expression one of understanding.
‘I’ll take your order shortly,’ he replied. ‘Just bear with me whilst I arrange a room for you. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Femke looked around. The taproom was typical of the locality: dimly lit, a low ceiling with exposed beams, and tables of various shapes and sizes, many of them showing the signs of repairs. The
room smelled of smoke from the open fire mixed with odours of cooking food and a hint of stale beer, most likely from spillages that had not been properly cleaned up. The smell was not unpleasant,
but neither did it cause her to inhale deeply to soak it up.
The door of the inn opened again and a figure, hooded and cloaked in black, stepped in across the threshold. Femke instinctively reached for her most accessible blade. The stranger took a couple
of steps inside, threw back his hood and unbuttoned his cloak. Several of the regulars instantly called out greetings. He was clearly well known here. She let out the breath she had instinctively
held. Blood pounded in her ears as she felt the burn of adrenalin deep in her gut. She began to relax a little again, though she remained edgy. She watched the newcomer carefully until one of the
serving girls had brought him a drink and he had settled himself at a table with two of the other regulars.
After a couple of minutes the innkeeper bustled back into the room. ‘I have a room that should meet your needs, my Lady,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Come this way,
please.’
Femke got to her feet and allowed the innkeeper to lead her through a doorway into the heart of the inn. The corridor was narrow, and a rickety wooden staircase at the end of it climbed steeply
around two right-angled corners to the first floor. There was another narrow passageway at the top of the stairs. Doors were situated at regular intervals along both walls. The innkeeper led her
forwards until they reached the penultimate door on the right. Here he stopped and produced a large iron key from his apron pocket.
‘This will be your room, my Lady. It’s one of our better ones.’
Femke stepped through the door and into the bedroom. It looked comfortable, if a bit spartan. There was a bed, a single chair, a small chest of drawers, a boot rack, a cloak stand and a tiny
dahl table. The walls were decorated with hangings that had seen better days. Bare wooden floorboards were covered in two places by small rugs – one next to the bed and one in front of the
chest of drawers. There was also a small, wall-mounted mirror at an average lady’s face height above the dahl table.
‘This will do fine, thank you,’ she assured him.
‘Very good, my Lady. Young Thommis will be up with your saddlebags shortly. Now, what would you like to eat? We have roast beef and vegetables, or rabbit pie, on the menu
tonight.’
‘Some of the beef and vegetables will be fine, thank you. And a small glass of ale, please.’
‘Beef and vegetables with a small glass of ale – no problem. I’ll be back with your food just as soon as I can. Will there be anything else, my Lady?’
Femke was tempted to ask for a tub of water in which to bathe, but she did not anticipate staying long enough to enjoy a bath. ‘No,’ she said, giving him a tired smile. ‘The
food and drink will be all, thanks.’
The innkeeper withdrew. As soon as she was sure he was not going to re-enter, she went straight to the window and partially opened it. A
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