Chapter Seven: The Color of Truth

The ass came to a grinding halt beneath them, nearly throwing Percy from the saddle.

“Oof.” They gasped out, the horn of the saddle digging into their tender gut as they fell forward, grasping the donkey’s short mane to stay astride. It lurched, Percy tipping dangerously over the side as the puddle that would cushion their fall came into view.

“Fucking hells,” Percy murmured, as they wrapped a desperate arm around the donkey’s neck, it braying like a screaming woman as Percy’s grasp slipped.

“No, no, no, no….” They whispered, closing their eyes as they lost their balance, their leg slipping and foot already out of the stirrup when a vice wrapped around their upper arm, dragging them painfully upright and back into the middle of the saddle.

“Sevens, stay mounted, thief.” Clem scolded, releasing Percy once they were up. “Do you not see we are almost to our evening stop?”

Their evening stops had consisted of hard earth underneath the stars for a week. How would they know when they would stop? It all looked the same.

“Ohhhh.” Percy muttered as they finally lifted their eyes beyond the donkey’s ears and down Pilgrim’s Road. There were lights. A bit of smoke rising from a chimney on a dilapidated two-story building.

“Are we staying there?” They uttered, unbridled hope lacing their voice.

Bristle, who’d walked up already dismounted from his pony, grunted. “You had better hope they have room or I will…”

Clem gave him a single raised eyebrow and he shut up. He would not do anything.

“Let’s go.” Clem glanced back. “Stranger?”

She shaded her eyes against the setting sun, but its glare swallowed the path behind them.

“Are you there?” she asked.

“Oye. I am. Wrens. Wrens. Wrens.” He muttered as Clem drew a slow breath through her nose before piercing Percy and Bristle with a look.

“Do. Not. Lose. Him. I have to go in to negotiate for our rooms.”

The thief and gnome deflated at the thought. They had already lost Stranger twice in the woods when he had wandered off in the middle of the night.

“Fine. But you owe me an ale.” Percy tried with a small smile, but Clem just looked on.

#

This is better than the ground.

They recited this mantra as they trudged up the rickety stairs to the two rooms secured by Clem.

The Inn at Fallen Banner was a shithole. It made The Gauntlet look like a place fit for King Roger. It was upright, did not smell that bad, and had Josephine. Which was a sizable plus for Percy who kept trying to find a crumb of comfort.

The inn was lopsided, the smell emanating from both the floor and several patrons that made Percy’s eyes sting, and every plate of food they passed made their stomach knot, turn, and threaten to dissolve entirely. They sidestepped one particularly gray offering and nearly collided with a table, its patrons grumbling.

“Stop. Tis better than the ground.” Muttered the gnome. Which was rich given his bushy eyebrows had not lowered since they had arrived.

“If I weren’t grumblin’ you’d be.” Percy whispered ferociously back. “At least you don’t have to mind Stranger.” Clem kept the bald man close. Monitoring him as he flitted to each corner of the full downstairs hall.

It was likely that this was the best spot in town.

As they approached, Percy quizzed Clem on what she knew about Fallen Banner. Pilgrim’s Road ran directly through the village, yet it bore the scars of battles long past. The inn was the first building to greet them. Beyond it stood a mix of sagging homes, what appeared to be a blacksmith’s hut, and a handful of other businesses interspersed with abandoned buildings. Their roofs had caved in, leaving them open to the elements, and their walls had long since tumbled. A few still bore scorch marks across what little wood remained intact.

“It never recovered after The Sundering.” Clem had whispered, as if the town could hear her. “Fallen Banner was the last place to fall when the Northern Kingdom invaded Elyndora. They were within ten leagues of Saudade when the King’s forces turned them back. When the North retreated they set fire to any town in their path. Including this one. Did you not wonder why we have been alone for most of this journey?”

Percy bit their bottom lip instead of replying.

“It is cursed. This road. These places. It was left as a warning of what can happen if we do not keep a watchful eye.” She had looked off toward the faraway mountains at that point. “I think it’s a shame as these people—the ones who remain—suffer.”

Moved and likewise ready to barf at the deeply felt sentiment, Percy had let Clem push forward and wondered what else lay in wait for them in the ruins.

Now, as Bristle and Percy dropped their things in their shared room—one full bed to share—the thief wondered if The Sundering was not truly over. Just delayed.

#

They gathered in a tucked-away corner of the lower hall as the inn filled for the evening. A cold draft whispered in from outside each time the door opened to admit another local. The townspeople greeted one another with calls of “Hallo” and “How are ye?” but always paused to cast wary scowls toward Percy’s table and those gathered around it.

It was as though they had not seen an outsider in ages.

Their food, ordered in advance by Clem, arrived moments after they sat down. It should have been a welcome distraction, but no one touched it except Stranger, who forked it into his mouth so quickly Percy expected him to choke and make a scene of his own. Only once did he look up to whisper, “Was that a northern wind through the crack above the lady’s bed in her chamber?”

They all stared at him, wide-eyed, as he returned to his food.

“I cannot stomach it,” Bristle whispered, staring down at his venison stew. His whisper was about as quiet as a regular person speaking. “The floor? The bed? I would be shocked if I did not ride away from this establishment covered in bites and some manner of rash. I must gather herbs for a salve.”

Clem glared at him and pressed her forefinger to her lips.

“Shhhh. People are watching.” She scolded. Percy wondered if Clem was this bossy with everyone, or just them. Either way, Percy would not have minded another reprimand.

“I do not care who hears me.” The gnome pulled his shoulders back, tilting his chin up past level. His voice grew louder. “You drag me down a cursed road to this hovel and expect me to be quiet?”

The tables nearest them shifted after having gone quiet. The hairs on Percy’s arms stood on end as they heard the whisper of fabric as men snuck their hands under the table to grasp their weapons. There was more than one instance of the faint but distinct ting of a blade sliding free.

“Lords of the seven, shut up.” Clem ordered.

They had descended into peak dinner hour. The hostess, a woman with long white hair and the most beautiful fingers Percy had ever seen, bustled in-between tables, yelling orders to the barmaid who scurried back and forth pouring ales and shouting in turn to the cook beyond a swinging door.

Fallen Banner might have been a ruin, but it was not empty. Bits of song tangled with loud conversation. Patrons swayed with their arms slung over one another’s shoulders, sending drink sloshing across tables, the floor, and their clothes. No one seemed to care.

The people looked as worn as the town. They worked hard or at least lived hard. Their skin was sun-toughened and wind-burned. Callous palms and missing teeth abounded, and yet so were smiles. Sure, there was plenty of food and drink, but they seemed happiest simply to be together and to be there.

“Bristle, please.” Percy warned. The thief sensed the minute changes throughout the room. Conversations died. Eyes glanced over shoulders. “You are going to get us killed with your big mouth. Or worse, back on the road.”

The gnome rolled his eyes.

“Do not be silly. What I will do is get us beverages.” He rose as Clem and Percy opened their mouths to argue.

“Fuck. Bris—”

But he was gone, cutting through a crowd that glared at his back as he made for the bar. Standing a foot shorter than an average person, he was oddly bold for someone who missed the death glares aimed at the top of his head.

Stranger tapped Percy on the shoulder.

“The little one is in trouble.” He whispered, his voice oddly far away and simultaneously echoing in their head. “It will be you.” He returned to eating.

“What did he say?” Clem leaned forward. “Anything useful? Coherent?”

Percy sighed. “No.”

The bald man spoke only in riddles.

Percy kicked at a leg of the table.

“This is what you call ale?” A loud voice interjected from the bar, Percy and Clem’s faces fell as they turned to find Bristle—oh, oblivious gnome—berating the barmaid. “What the same coin buys me elsewhere puts this place to shame.”

The entire room’s hackles rose.

“We might want to get that…” Percy’s leg was already swung over the bench as Clem, her hands on the worn table, pressed herself to stand.

They patted their weapons—Clem had been willing to give Percy back one blade–-when the hostess crossed to Bristle and pointed a finger in his face.

Her mouth moved but Percy could not hear, even though the room had gone silent. Stranger whimpered, hugging his chest before turning to stare at the wall, eyes glazed over.

Bristle’s ire deflated as they watched him lean away from the woman. He tried to speak, but the hostess had brought her other hand up and closed her fist the second he tried to utter a rebuttal.

“Fuck, she’s a witch.” It appeared Percy’s new party had no luck.

Witches were common in the far reaches of Elyndora—old magic was everywhere and many rumored that the root of memory magic came from witches—but it was a wild, untamable magic. Impossible to control and hard to teach for a kingdom that desperately wanted order.  It also meant that spells were written in heirloom grimoires and held close by the secret covens that dotted the far corners of the kingdom.

It was even said that they still traded with the North.

The witch dropped her hands and pointed to their table. Bristle, for once in his damn life, said nothing before hustling back.

“What did she say?” Clem demanded before his ass hit the bench. “Do we still have accommodations for the night?”

Bristle had gone pale under his dark skin while spots of color high on his cheeks added emotion that he rarely showed. He grabbed Clem’s ale and gulped it down, then gave her an apologetic glance before pulling off his hat and crushing it in his hands.

“I do not know. But I fear I have offended her.”

Percy laughed, unable to control the chortle that appeared. “Just her? You have offended this entire town.” He had been grumpy on the road—hardly a day went by without him reciting his grievances—but today was worse. “What is wrong with you? We’ve got a bed for the night and you’re acting like this is the worst we’ve faced.”

He would not look up, his eyes glued to the table.

“I’m serious. What is it about today?” Percy pressed. If they were going to share the same bed they wanted to know what had gotten so far under the gnome’s skin.

“It is nothing.” Was all he said but Percy had caught sight of the barmaid in route to their table with the round of drinks the gnome had actually ordered.  She avoided Bristle, brushing against Percy’s back while she set down beverages for all but the gnome.

She winked at Percy and left, turning back once to pin Bristle with a smirk before muttering, “Serves you right.”

Percy, flummoxed, looked up to find everyone at the table staring at the gnome. Who was glowing. He had turned a not-so-subtle shade of green. Bright green, like he was about to transform into a plant.

“Bristleeeeee…..” Clem whispered. “Gnome, look at your hands.”

His vision focused, his pupils narrowing as he finally saw.

“Oh, dear gods,” he said, “What is this sorcery?” They all turned to find the hostess watching.

“Yer’ve been cursed.” Someone from the table next to them added. “And ye’re fuckin’ deserve it.”

Clem groaned, her head falling into her hands.

“Cursed? I do not see any reason why I wou—” as he spoke, the green intensified. “Fuck, why is it worse?” It died down again.

Percy, watching the color oscillate, had an idea.

“You are lying. You lied to me.” Percy ran a finger along a worn groove in the table as the front door banged open, letting in a gust of cold air that had them all shivering. “Today is different. Why?” Percy found another groove in the table. “Why were you in Saudade?” Percy prompted.

The gnome had made it clear he hated the Capital, except he had been there for something.

Stranger’s head moved in slow motion until he stared at Bristle.

“On business for the king.” He only glowed harder, which made him glare only harder at Percy. “And as of today. No.” He continued to glow as Percy gestured for him to try again, propping their chin in the palm of their hand. “I do not care if I glow, I do not owe you the answer.”

Percy shrugged and made a show of drinking their ale. “No, but the more you lie the more you’ll light up like a star at night.”

Stranger crossed his legs, his eyes clearer than they had ever been. “You lost your father.” He tapped his bald head. “You seek your echoing thoughts.”

Bristle glared. “I wish I left you in the rubble.” He did not glow green.

Percy was intrigued. “Your father is lost?” Percy never knew their parents. A gap in their memory they chose not to interrogate. “Dead?” They hazarded.

“Yes.”

“And you gave his memories away?”

“None of your business.” He lit up again. “Fucking hells!” He screeched before covering his mouth. “Apologies.” Leaning back, he scrunched up his face. “How do I get rid of it?”

“I do not know.” Clem added as she came up behind Percy. She had snuck off to have a brief word with the hostess. “She was noncommittal and I did not press. For now.” She laid a hand on Percy’s shoulder as they suppressed a shiver.

Josephine. Josephine. Josephine.

They chanted in their minds as a distraction.

“We can stay tonight, but we need to be gone by morning.” She gave Bristle a pointed look. “Hopefully, she will tell us what she knows before we leave. If not, we may be on our own.”

She sat on Stranger’s other side and turned her palms upward. “I do not usually press, but whatever you are not saying matters. Somehow. A curse does not care if you lie about your breakfast. It cares about what is in here.” She placed a hand over her heart. “And what is no longer in here.” She touched her temple, then waved him on. When all he answered her with was drawn out silence she turned her hands over. “Go on, then. This room is only getting drunker, and you keep glowing because you are such a fucking liar.”

He glared at the warden. “And you are not?”

She shrugged. Percy knew they were all liars. Except maybe Stranger.

“It does not matter if I am, I did not piss off a witch and now glow green every time I open my mouth.”

The bench groaned as Bristle rose.

“Fine. I will go.”

The gnome’s bones creaked and cracked as he dislodged himself from his place at the table. A week of riding and sleeping on the ground had been cruel to them all. As usual, he grunted and carried on as though he were the sole victim of their very shared misery.

“Lords have mercy,” Percy muttered. They watched him make for the stairs, the tables he passed watching as he went. A few spit in his path. Clem flinched, her knuckles white over the hilt of her blade. “Relax.” Percy muttered out of the corner of their mouth. “You cannot take this whole room.”

“Oh yes I can.” Clem rebutted, but she did let go. “But I will not tonight.”

They sat down, gathered around the remaining pints and venison stew that they had to eat now that Bristle had offended the entire establishment. The hostess and all the visitors would be checking their plates before they were cleared.

Percy choked down the stew. The meat was chewy, not unusual for venison, but this was likely days old and cooked to rubber. Clem made a brave face at the gnarled hunk of bread before her. Then she bit into one end and her jaw stopped. With a grunt, she bit harder and managed only a dent.

“Ya want some of my stew to soften your wood-bread?” Percy joked. Clem gave a glimmer of a smile before crunching through her food.

#

Clem turned in early, dragging Stranger with her.  Percy, restless and watchful, claimed a table in the corner of the hall and watched the patrons carry on until the last had gone home or upstairs. Only then did they slip into their room.

Bristle’s predicament weighed heavily on their mind. It was wild and deeply unfortunate that he had lost a basic dignity they all deserved: the right to control what they shared with others. Something about his mood, the way he had swung between anger and melancholy all day, made Percy suspect it was personal. Whatever had unsettled him came from his own life, not anything their band had done.

“Thief, you may turn on a light. I am awake.” A voice rumbled from the darkness.

Percy tripped over a loose boot and cursed as they caught themselves on the corner of the bed.

“Do not fall on me,” Bristle ordered. A lantern flared to life with a snap of his fingers.

Percy stared. “You have magic?”

Bristle sat upright in bed and nodded. “A bit.”

The calm neutrality of his voice was somehow more unsettling than his usual anger. Percy gathered their things and disappeared behind the privacy curtain. When they emerged in their soft clothes, they approached the empty side of the bed.

“Do not fart on me, all right?” Percy joked. To their astonishment, Bristle chuckled. The room felt downright light.

He patted his round belly. “You had the stew. I make no promises.”

Oddly heartened by the exchange, Percy settled into bed, leaving at least two handspans of space between them.

“Are you feeling better?” They tried again.

Bristle stiffened, then blew out a long breath. “I am a healer, yet I could not save my father,” he began. “I saved the king, but he is different now. Something changed in him when my father…died.”

His coloring did not change. The truth.

“I do not think my father’s death is the issue. It is what he knew before he died and whether he passed any of it on to me. I do not know if he told me something that could help us. Something that could help Roger.” He glanced sideways at Percy. “King Roger is not the man he once was, and I do not know why. But I think my father did. Maybe he told me. I just cannot remember.”