Free The Crystal Legacy (Book 2) by C. Craig Coleman Page A

don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. After the experience with the medrax and the wraith, we know things are hunting us.”
    The town was handsome, with well-kept homes and little gardens off the river’s main street. Thatched roofs on the cottages made them appear cozy. Larger homes of timber and stone reflected the city’s former prosperity. The lack of paint on some suggested this year, business had been less than expected and owners had put off repairs for another season, as in Olnak.
    The group passed along quaint streets under the light of occasional streetlamps. Sweet oak smoke wafted down the street with sounds of music. Finally, the weary travelers reached the Shepherd’s Crook Inn at the city’s outskirts. A smile on the plump proprietor’s face indicated he was happy to see them.
    “How’s business, innkeeper?” Tournak asked.
    “It’s not so good.” The innkeeper’s smile disappeared. “The autumn river traffic fell off this year. The farmers who usually stay with me failed to show up this season. I hear floods devastated Sengenwha’s best agricultural region in the spring. A drought followed this summer.”
    He threw open the door and ushered in his unexpected guests.
    “Come in; come in, my friends,” the innkeeper said, beaming again. “What may I offer such distinguished gentlemen?”
    “Bring us food,” Bodrin said. He looked at the others, “I’m starving.”
    “We’ll require food and lodging for the night, innkeeper,” Tournak said. “I trust you have rooms for us?”
    “I have the finest rooms in the city,” the innkeeper said.
    “We’ll need two rooms, a bath, and lots of food,” Saxthor said.
    Bodrin perked up. “And vegetables, lots of vegetables.”
    “This way, gentlemen.” The innkeeper led them into the dining room, where patrons had eaten earlier at the large central table.
    Saxthor popped back outside. “We’ll see you in the morning, Twit.”
    Twit ruffled his feathers on the overhang and settled down for the night near the inn’s welcoming lamp, the hub of unlucky lingering moths.
    The travelers slumped into chairs at a smaller table close to the fireplace. Delia curled up at Saxthor’s feet, awaiting her dinner. Warmth from the dying fire was refreshing, and the innkeeper added another log to the coals. Candlelight flicked a golden hue on each face.
    “I’ll send cook with food, and I’ll get you something to drink while you wait.”
    The innkeeper disappeared around the corner to the kitchen. Fragrant ribbons of roasted meats, simmering vegetables, bread, and pies washed over the dining room, swirling around the starving band. Bodrin all but gnawed on the table.
    “What’s the plan for tomorrow, Saxthor?” Hendrel asked.
    “We’ll discuss that later, not here in the public room,” Tournak said.
    Saxthor nodded agreement. “You never know who’s listening.”
    The smiling proprietor returned with a pitcher of ale and one of milk. A scullery maid followed with a tray of earthenware mugs, wooden plates, utensils, and cloth napkins. Again, the proprietor disappeared through the kitchen door. Soon the cook and assistant returned with heaping trays and bowls of steaming foods filling, the table’s center.
    The travelers’ dull eyes sparkled at such a feast. Abandoning manners, they rushed to grab choice items, knocking a roasted chicken leg to the floor. Saxthor reached down to retrieve it. He noted a dark figure in the corner get up and slip out the door.
    “One of your guests just left, innkeeper,” Saxthor said. “I hope he paid you.”
    The proprietor frowned. “Now that was a strange one, never saw him before. He’s been here since morning and just sat in that corner sipping ale.”
    The innkeeper went through the reception hall following the man’s trail. He returned, scratching his head.
    Bodrin looked up. “Gone?”
    “Yes, I’m out the price of his drink.”
    Saxthor’s companions heard the comments and looked at Saxthor,