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At the edge of the border between Parikh and Abban Serru, there was an unassuming inn, known as the Spire’s Rest. It was a two-floor building, made of limestone and clay, nestled against the side of the mountain road. Many travelers, most coming from the city of Etaqu for business, pay the place no mind. In town, the inns were studded with gemstones and staffed by many servants, while this one had only plain walls and a pair of caretakers.
Still, some who travelled the mountain roads did not pass the place by. Perhaps the gem-studded inns were booked to capacity, or demanded too large a fee, or perhaps the Spire’s Rest was simply intriguing in its simplicity. Perhaps, even, they believed the rumors.
“And so, Sq’amata watched as the Scale Hunter drew her blade!”
Though she was human, the proprietress seemed to embody a naga as she mimed uncoiling and unsheathing a weapon, the broom in her hand transformed into a wicked scimitar in the minds of the children sitting around her. Even a few of the parents, seated at the dining room bar, gave appreciative gasps at the motion.
“Fangless traitor!” she hissed, with a rasping sound that had even the naga children believing that she was the ruthless bounty hunter of legend. “Surrender the Gems to me, and I shall make your demise a swift one!”
She poised the broom as if to strike, and the nearest members of the audience seemed to scurry back. As they gazed up at her, eyes wide with something between attention and fear, her demeanor softened once more.
“But Sq’amata would not give in.” she narrated, a smile curving across her lips. “For in her travels to collect the Gems, she had seen so many things that few ever had.”
“Like the Siltback Basilisk!” chimed an elven child, a slight lisp in her voice.
“Or the Magma Fields!” chirped a young aarakocra.
The others kept silent, as their parents had so often taught them, unwilling to interrupt the show even as the proprietress beamed at the children who had spoken up.
“Right you are!”
“Is it because she wasn’t afraid?” asked another. As the proprietress swiveled to face her, the storyteller shook her head.
“Oh, she was afraid. For though Sq’amata had been on a great journey, she was still a mortal woman. In the face of a foe so fierce, fear was a natural reaction!” The proprietress’ tone changed as she glanced around the room, her eyes lingering for a moment on the woman behind the bar, who gave a silent nod. “But during her quest, Sq’amata had seen something other than ravenous monsters and dangerous domains.”
She lowered herself onto the cushion beneath her feet, kneeling in the center of the room as she spoke. “Sq’amata had seen the way the people of the Naga lands suffered under King Alm’han’s cruel control. She had seen families forced apart by his tyrannical declarations, the downtrodden citizens forced to beg in the streets for food to replace what his minions had taken for themselves, and children sleeping without blankets to call their own. She knew that should the Scale Hunter deliver the Gems Of Life to him, his terrible reign would only continue.”
The room grew silent, all eyes on the storyteller. She brushed a wave of dark hair away from her eyes, a sad smile on her face. “Sq’amata faced her fear. She lifted the Gems in one hand…” One of her hands rose to nearly touch the ceiling. “And she cast them-” As her palm opened, tiny bits of confetti dripped out of it, much to the delight of the children scattered at her feet. “-into the churning sea. Though she knew it meant her quest would go on, and there would be many more trials ahead to recover them, she would not allow them to rest in evil’s grasp. Because Sq’amata, the wise and compassionate priestess, was a hero.”
As the proprietress took a bow, the adults in the audience began to clap, the children quickly following suit. The barmaid, too, applauded.
“Now then, everyone, you may hear the rest of the story in the morning!” she said, speaking as much to the parents as their children. Though there were a few sighs of dejection, the chamber slowly emptied of its inhabitants as they filtered up the stairs and towards their bedrooms. As the crowd thinned out, however, one girl seemed reluctant to leave.
“Lady?” she asked. She was a young human, her clothes reminiscent of the ones worn in Melu to the north. With a slight bit of hesitation, the proprietress replied.
“Can I help you?”
Wide-eyed, the girl asked, “Are you a sorceress?”
“A sorceress?” she replied. Some of the trepidation trickled away as she laughed, the room’s atmosphere returning to a relaxed one. “No, I’m not. I just own this inn.”
“Now, don’t bother the nice lady, Ayushka.” A man stood up from the bar, a bushy beard trailing down his chin and a patch over one eye. As their gazes met, it became clear to the proprietress that he didn’t recognize her. “Off to bed now.”
As Ayushka obeyed, bounding up the steps, her father chuckled. He nodded at the proprietress, stretching as he left his mug of ale on the countertop.
“Sorry about that, Miss…”
“Cyana.” the proprietress lied, grateful for the unassuming clothes she wore and the simple enchantment that had changed the color of her hair.
“Right. Wizard or not, you’ve done quite the number on this place. I take this road Etaqu to Melu once every couple years, and last I was here this building was empty.”
“The mistress works quite quickly when she puts her mind to something.” said the barmaid, already beginning to scrub the abandoned mug.
The proprietress reddened. “Well, I had some wonderful help.”
As the man began to make his way back towards the steps, she couldn’t contain one final question.
“Sir? If you don’t mind, may I ask how Melu is faring this year?”
Though the barmaid’s expression tightened slightly, the man seemed unperturbed.
“Well, not much has changed, unless...have you been since the rebellion?”
“No.” she replied.
“Ah. Well, things are looking up. No more dragon darkening the skies, at least, and no more bandits wearing lawman’s clothes. The mines are pumping out more ore than they have in years, and the new Queen’s a sharp one.” He laughed, a deep and rumbling sound. “Still dry as a bone and cluttered as a box of treacles, but that’s nothing new! Ushah’s blessing seems to be returning.”
“I see.” A smile rose to the proprietress’ face. “Thank you for letting me know. Have a good night’s sleep.”
After a nod of his head, the man stepped up the stairs and out of sight. Somewhere above, the sound of a door closing shut echoed through the empty halls.
“Perhaps it is presumptuous of me,” the propietress began, beginning the work of picking up cushions from the floor and stacking them against the walls, “but it made me happy to hear that.”
“You are welcome to those feelings.” The barmaid approached, throwing her hand towel onto a drying rack as she crossed the kitchen. “It is good of you to wish them well.”
“I only wish I could have done more. But thank you, Miltu.”
Part of Rubatu still wanted to return, someday. She had not been exiled, not officially, but she doubted the return of the Coward Queen would be a triumphant one for the citizens of Melu. Surely, the one who had bent her knee to a ruthless dragon, failed to uphold her most sacred of duties, was worthy of naught but scorn.
As her thoughts darkened, a familiar hand landed on her shoulder. Before her stood the one who had helped her through those terrible days, the woman whose gentle words and unparalleled loyalty made her believe that perhaps there was hope for her yet.
She kissed her, gingerly, on the tip of the nose.
“That is in the past, heart-jewel. In the present, I believe you just put on a show so wonderful the audience thought you magical!”
Rubatu reddened slightly. “Oh, they were children, Miltu. They are not so difficult to impress!”
“Hmm…” Miltu brought a finger to her chin, tapping slowly as she used her unoccupied hand to push in the chairs around the dining table. “Then how do you explain all of the adults I could barely get drink orders out of, given that they were so enraptured in your tale!”
Knowing she was beaten, Rubatu changed the subject.
“Th-that all aside, Miltu, please, you needn’t call me “mistress”! Especially not anymore!”
The barmaid’s smile didn’t falter. “You’ll have to excuse me, it is a force of habit.”
Rubatu sighed and turned away, her attention returning to cleaning.
“...Your ladyship.”
“Miltu!”
As the night’s work concluded, and the staff of the Spire’s Rest retired to their bedchamber, Rubatu’s thoughts turned to tomorrow’s story. She knew the legend of Sq’amata and the Riddle of Blood as if it were written upon the back of her hand, but knowing a story and telling it were two very different things.
As she snuffed out the candles at her bedside, Rubatu let her imagination take hold, revisiting the one place she had always felt at home.
Miltu’s arms closed around her, reminding her that now there were two.