Unicorn. An odd combination, even in the south where odd combinations were the
style of naming taverns. She pushed open the door. It was nearly as dark inside
as out, and smoky. The noise died as Wess and Chan entered – then rose again in
a surprised buzz when Aerie and Quartz followed.
Wess and Chan were not startlingly different from the general run of southern
mountain folk: he fairer, she darker. Wess could pass unnoticed as an ordinary
citizen anywhere; Chan’s beauty often attracted attention. But Aerie’s tall
white-skinned black-haired elegance everywhere aroused comment. Wess smiled,
imagining what would happen if Aerie flung away her cloak and showed herself as
she really was.
And Quartz: she had to stoop to come inside. She straightened up. She was taller
than anyone else in the room. The smoke near the ceiling swirled a wreath around
her hair. She had cut it short for the journey, and it curled around her face,
red, gold, and sand-pale. Her grey eyes reflected the firelight like mirrors.
Ignoring the stares, she pushed her blue wool cloak from her broad shoulders and
shrugged her pack to the floor.
The strong heavy scent of beer and sizzling meat made Wess’s mouth water. She
sought out the man behind the bar.
‘Citizen,’ she said, carefully pronouncing the Sanctuary language, the trade
tongue of all the continent, ‘are you the proprietor? My friends and I, we need
a room for the night, and dinner.’
Her request seemed ordinary enough to her, but the innkeeper looked sidelong at
one of his patrons. Both laughed.