Out of the Road

Neither of them crossed the street.

Amber light lay across the Golden Orchid’s steps. Beneath the awning, a doorman in dark green watched Maeril hold Darran’s note as if the folded paper might explain itself.

At last, he inclined his head.

“Guests of Master Velkos?”

Maeril gave him the note.

He checked the mark, opened the door, and stepped clear of it. “Welcome to the Golden Orchid.”

His eyes lowered once toward their feet.

Mud had hardened around the hem of Maeril’s robe. Ash marked one cuff. Rain was the only reason Rishi’s sandals looked cleaner.

“Yes,” Maeril said. “We have brought some road.”

“We have seen road before.” The doorman held the door. “Please.”

Warmth met them at the threshold.

The air smelled of polished wood, clean linen, wine, and flowers. No sour ale. No wet wool packed shoulder to shoulder. String music moved beneath the low conversation.

Rishi entered first, carefully, as though someone might correct the placement of his feet.

Maeril followed with fewer reservations.

The entry opened into a broad main room. A narrow stair curved behind a carved screen. Across from it, a half-drawn curtain marked a quieter passage.

People moved without colliding or hurrying. A woman in cream poured wine for a reclining guest, her bare arm touching his shoulder as she leaned across him. A man in blue laughed between two patrons and allowed one to draw him close before easing back with a practiced smile. Behind a screen, two women sat together while a patron watched from a cushion.

No one stared at the road-stained witch and monk.

Everyone noticed them.

Rishi’s eyes caught on a hand at a waist, a mouth near a throat, two bodies leaning easily together. Each time, his gaze pulled away and found another intimate gesture waiting for it.

No one looked frightened. No one asked for help. Nothing was wrong.

His shoulders tightened anyway.

Maeril read the room differently.

Workers crossed one another’s paths without blocking them. Guards stood where they could see every entrance without looming over any table. Screens and curtains offered privacy, but no passage disappeared from view. When laughter sharpened near the hearth, a woman rested two fingers on the table. The sound lowered at once.

The Golden Orchid had rules.

A man left the screened hearth and approached them.

Dark hair was tied back from a composed face. Lamplight warmed his brown skin. His black and deep-green clothes fit closely without restricting his stride. He wore a narrow gold ring in one ear and a pin shaped like a closed flower at his throat.

His eyes took in Maeril’s horns, Rishi’s staff, both packs, the mud, and the careful distance between them. He studied Rishi’s stillness last.

“I have been awaiting you. I am Keth.”

Maeril looked him over without hiding her appreciation.

Keth raised one eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all.”

Rishi looked from Maeril to Keth, then fixed his attention on a vase of white flowers.

Keth followed his gaze. Quiet amusement warmed his smile, but he did not move closer.

“You are not required to bow, apologize, defend anyone, or remain,” he told Rishi. “What you do here is your choice.”

Rishi looked at him at last. “That is very clear.”

“We try to make difficult things clear. Simple things seldom need our help.”

“I like you,” Maeril said.

Keth inclined his head. “I am pleased.”

He considered the mud once more. “You have come directly from the road.”

“It insisted.”

“You are welcome as you are. The carpets are less forgiving. May I offer you an alcove at the edge of the room?”

Maeril’s shoulders lowered. “Somewhere kinder to everyone involved. Yes.”

Keth led them behind a tall screen painted with cranes and flowers.

Lattice and hanging beads enclosed three sides of a small alcove without sealing it from the room. Three cushioned seats surrounded a low table.

Maeril lowered herself onto the nearest cushion and closed her eyes.

“I have been wrong about furniture.”

Rishi remained on his feet.

Keth indicated the seat nearest the screen. “Your staff may stay beside you. No one will touch it.”

After a moment, Rishi leaned the staff within reach and sat.

He was not relaxed.

He was seated.

Keth stayed outside the alcove’s entrance.

“We can bring food and drink here. Your room is ready whenever you wish to use it.”

Maeril opened her eyes. “A serious profession.”

“Is that how Master Velkos described us?”

“It is.”

“He has redeeming qualities.”

“I will not tell him. It might encourage more.”

“Appreciated.”

A chair scraped across the main room.

A cup struck wood. A man raised his voice.

Rishi stood before Maeril had turned toward the sound. His hand closed around the staff.

She caught his sleeve. “Not ours.”

He stopped.

Through the lattice, a broad merchant leaned over a woman dressed in gold. One of his hands pressed flat against her table. Her face had gone cold.

Two guards approached, one from either side. They stopped beyond the merchant’s reach while closing both paths to the woman.

A server removed the cup near his hand. An attendant came to the woman, offered an arm, and walked with her when she chose to leave.

No one touched the merchant. No one shouted back.

One guard spoke to him too quietly for the alcove to hear and indicated a side passage.

The merchant looked from one guard to the other. His shoulders lowered. Then he followed them.

Rishi remained standing with Maeril’s hand on his sleeve.

“This house has guards,” he said.

“This house has boundaries,” Keth answered. “The guards are for guests who mistake them for decoration.”

Rishi watched the side passage. “He did not strike anyone. He might have. You stopped him before he chose it.”

Keth’s eyes warmed. “Prevention stains fewer carpets.”

Maeril laughed softly.

Rishi released the staff and sat again.

Keth waited until both his hands rested empty on his knees.

“What would you like first?”

“Food,” Rishi said as Maeril said, “A bath.”

Keth inclined his head. “Both can be arranged.”

Beyond the screened windows, the road continued without them.