not such a bad place after all [Rhi]

[Tally]

((note: continuing from here))

By the time it was all over, Haven wasn't sure he'd be able to stand without tipping right back over gain.

Trying to catch his breath, he slowly closed off the channel between himself and the woman. She lay asleep, barely breathing but alive, and if she proved strong enough she would probably make it through the night. He was sure it had been animal venom, the kind that went after the nerves.  Those were the worst.  The effects lingered and the damage could be permanent.  Had he any more to give he'd keep the channel open, feed her more healing energy, but he was well past his limit.

Haven sighed and wiped a sleeve across his forehead. His hands shook as he cleaned up, dropping everything back in his rucksack. Never mind putting them in their proper place. He'd worry about it later, when he wasn't ready to collapse from exhaustion.

"Someone should take her to her room and make sure she's comfortable. I expect she'll survive the night." His staff provided the leverage to get him to his feet, and he leaned on it to address the men. "I'll check on her in the morning, but call me if you have to."

He wasn't prepared for the pain that shot through his back when he straightened, or the way the floor seemed spin out from underneath his feet.  He grabbed at whoever was closest—he thought it was the younger of the two—and waited for his sense of balance to return. "Ah...I'm sorry. Could I ask you to help me to a room? I can pay. I'm just not sure I could make it on my own."

It would be far less embarrassing to ask for help than faint in the hallway.

[Rhindeer]

Hazel had watched the entire healing with a mixture of awe and, though he didn't show it, annoyance. It was an amazing thing to witness, there was no lying about that, but...not here and not now! Oh well. Minor setback. No big deal. He could work with this. No need to get worked up.

Besides, the healer had only managed to keep her from dying. She still looked weak.

Good.

When the healer packed up his crystals and rose to his feet, Hazel stood as well, shrugging uncomfortably as he glanced down at the woman. "Alright...I guess I could check up on her before I head to bed--" he began, but that was when the healer suddenly grabbed at him, making him jump, before the man apologized. Hazel relaxed again and straightened, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders to brace him.

"Oh, yeah, it's no problem, don't worry about it," he said, smiling though the healer wouldn't be able to see it. "But I wouldn't worry about paying. Consider the room on the house! I mean you just saved a customer and, well, patron death is kinda bad for business you know, so..." He quickly looked over at the flustered innkeeper to make sure the offer wasn't out of line, having gotten a little ahead of himself there, but when the innkeeper nodded, Hazel grinned and gave the healer's shoulders a friendly squeeze.

"So there we have it! On the house. Hey Maeve, is room seven vacant?" he suddenly shouted down the stairs to a woman that was loitering at the bottom. When she nodded, Hazel continued, "Great! Gimme the key, will ya?" It didn't take her long to retrieve the proper key from the front desk, and Hazel caught it easily when she tossed it up to him, something that always made him a little nervous since he usually missed and either got pegged in the head or, even worse, the customer did.

"Thanks! Alright, this way, please. We don't have the classiest joint, but it's cozy and hey, not like you can tell if the decor doesn't match, eh?" he added with a wink out of habit before he remembered that the man was very obviously blind.

Turning slowly with Haven, he carefully lead him down the hall toward a vacant room, not much farther down from the woman's room, while the innkeeper was left behind to deal with the unconscious woman--and didn't look all too pleased about that, either. Hazel heard him mutter something under his breath as he hauled the woman into his arms and carried her to her room while Hazel stopped in front of room number seven, fit the key into the lock, and turned it with a click.

"So here we have it! Your room. Need any help or can you get it from here?" Then, lowering his voice, he added, "Um...do you know what was wrong with her? And are you alright? Looks like that kinda took it out of you. If you need any tea or food or anything, I'm the resident cook here, Hazel."

[Tally]

It was a little overwhelming, stuck in this unfamiliar space with his head spinning and with people he didn't know on all sides of him.  If only he had something to ground him.  The sighted used vision to orient themselves, but he had to rely on other things.  Things like an understanding of the spatial dimensions of a place, or a specific heat source, or if nothing else a description of the room would do.  Anything to know where he was in relation to his surroundings.  Without it, he felt adrift even in a small hallway.

Haven didn't say anything in answer to the other man.  Couldn't.  His mind was still catching up.  This all happened so fast!  And he'd barely stepped foot in the village!  If it was like this all the time he was going to be in a continual state of shock.  Goodness.

It was the walk to the room and the comfort of counting his paces that finally got his thoughts back in working order.  A simple thing, but it gave him an idea of where he was going in relation to where he'd been and that made all the difference.  He kept a light hold on the man's sleeve.  â€œTh...thank you for the room.  It's very kind of you.â€?

They stopped, and a key clicked in a lock.  Haven pushed the door open and put a hand on the doorway to brace himself.  He still felt in danger of tipping over.  â€œOh, no thank you, I'll be fine.  I just need to rest, that's all.  She was very close to death.  I think...â€?  His brow furrowed in thought.  â€œI think it was some sort of bite.  An insect bite.  I found an organic foreign substance in her blood.â€?  Oh!  What if this happened again, to someone else?  The thing that bit herâ€"whatever it wasâ€"could likely still be in the inn.  â€œListen...if something like this happens to anyone else, come and get me immediately.  It doesn't matter if I'm sleeping.â€?

He didn't mention that he'd likely be too drained to do any good.

A yawn crept up on him and just wouldn't be suppressed.  â€œAh, sorry.  I'll check on her as soon as I wake up.  I think she'll make it through the night.  I hope so.  I've never seen any insect bite work like that before.  Thank you again for the room.  Have a good night.â€?

After he closed the door, he put a hand to his aching back and allowed himself a groan.  The travel pack on his shoulder slipped to the floor and there he left it.  It felt good to just be alone and in a quiet, closed space.  Generally he would have taken his own sweet time acquainting himself with the layout of the roomâ€"it was such a pleasant process of discoveryâ€"but that could just wait until tomorrow.  Sleep now.  The questing end of his staff knocked against the side of a bed.  It felt so soft as he crawled up.  And to think he might have ended up sleeping on the ground again tonight.

He didn't last long.  He fell asleep on his stomach with all his clothes still on.

[Rhindeer]

Hazel frowned, brow furrowing. "An insect?" he repeated, and shuddered. "Eugh. Y'know how many bugs are around this place? I mean, not that it's not clean or anything, but...it's Zantaric. Got a lot of weird stuff here." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well...in any case I'll warn everyone to check their sheets and shoes. You might wanna do the same in this case. Ugh, this is just great. Well, anyway, good night and thanks for the help. You need anything, you just holler, 'kay? I'll tell everyone else what you said."

With that said, he left the healer and returned downstairs. By then, the woman had been put to bed in a nearby room, but Hazel would worry about her later. For now, he still had work to do, and that included serving a few new patrons--and then the less than pleasant job of cleaning up the kitchen and scrubbing the dishes. That would take a while.

By the time his work was done and his shift was over, it was late into the night. The innkeeper had retired, and the only one up aside from him was Maeve, who worked the night shift and handled any stragglers that came in wanting a room. It worked for her; she was a vampire. "Night, Maeve," Hazel told her, snatching up the key to the sick woman's room. As promised, he would check on her before he went to bed.

Thoroughly.

He carefully unlocked her door and stepped inside, gently shutting the door behind him; didn't want to disturb her or the other patrons, after all, and she especially needed her rest. Pocketing the key, he walked to her bedside.

For a few moments all Hazel did was stand there, tilting his head and watching her breathe, studying her. She was a fairly pretty woman and young, too, so it was a bit of a shame--if he was the sort to have regrets. What she had done to deserve death he hadn't a clue, but the fee had been paid and the job had to be carried out. She could have been a murderer herself, or the man that contacted him could have been her husband and she'd been unfaithful. Hell, maybe there was just a family dispute over a measily sum of inheritance money. Who knew. Wasn't his job to ask or care.

He calmly removed his glasses and set them down on the bedside table, just in case she did struggle, then grabbed the extra pillow off the bed and pressed it down firmly over her face. She was still unconscious and her breathing had already been ragged enough; it shouldn't take long. He waited, watching the rise and fall of her chest and pressing down a little harder, trying to speed it up, making sure as little air as possible could reach her. Everyone but Maeve was in bed but he didn't want to spend too much time in here, just in case. He counted to sixty as her breathing slowed and shifted his weight to one arm so he could feel her throat for a pulse, gauging it as that throb became less and less frequent. He didn't let up even once her breathing had stopped. Wouldn't be much longer.

It wasn't until her heart had stopped a few minutes later that he finally lifted the pillow, fluffed it, and set it back where he'd found it. He retrieved his glasses and put them back on, checked her pulse a final time and looked her over--no marks on her, except perhaps the spider bite--then turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. He returned the key to Maeve and told her to check on the woman at the end of her shift and alert the healer if there were any changes in her condition, then promptly headed off toward his little room downstairs near the kitchen.

He'd sleep well tonight.

***

It was still dark out when a frantic knocking came at Haven's door, around five in the morning at least. "Healer? Healer, are you awake?" It was a feminine voice, Maeve's no doubt.

[Tally]

Haven lay down, fell asleep...and it seemed not five minutes later a relentless pounding was invading his head and he was clawing his way back up into consciousness again.  Who...what...?  The scent of the sheets beneath him raised no memory, the voice piercing through the door was unfamiliar.  He tried to remember where he was and drew a blank.  Blood roared in his ears as his sleep-fogged mind worked it out.  It came in waves of understanding.

Zantaric, a city turned inward toward itself, the fascination and the intimidation it inspired in him.  An inn he couldn't even put a name to, a strange room and a strange bed.  A woman dying on the floor of a hallway.

Oh.  Right.

He raised up onto his elbows and hissed.  His spine and every muscle attached to it screamed in protest.  Sleep had not taken the edge off the injury, only stiffened it.  But that pounding at the door went on, and he was needed.  "Yes,"? he said, but it came out as an incoherent mumble.  He dragged himself off the bed and into a standing position.  The movement triggered a dizzy spell as all the blood rushed from his head and he swayed in place for a moment.  "Yes, I'm coming." A little stronger that time, more like actual words.

He was still moving slowly, though, limbs feeling like lead weights and his head still fuddled.  His staff, what had he done with it?  It had been beside him on the bed, he thought.  He put his right hand out, triggered a spell, and the staff flew to his palm.  Always had to be careful with that one.  A simple mistake in remembering the location of the staff and it'd just fly right into him and knock him flat.

Still he wavered there.  His mind just couldn't hold a thought.  Staff...no, he had that.  He was holding it already.  Door now.  No, no...don't fall asleep on your feet.  Door.

Another few precious moments of fumbling and he had it open, and Light but he hoped this wasn't a genuine emergency because it certainly had taken him long enough to get up and get over here.  "Urnm...yes?  What's happened?"  The door jamb was right there and so, so tempting to lean on, but he made himself stand up straight and focus.  He realized now he must have been asleep for awhile at least, but it had been that dreamless, dead sleep of exhaustion, the kind that left you feeling as though you hadn't slept at all.  "How is she?"

[Rhindeer]

Maeve fidgeted as she waited, and she gave a little jump when the door finally opened to reveal the exhausted healer. Right then, he looked about as dead on his feet as she literally was, and she felt a little bad for waking him at this hour when the answer to his question was "dead as a doornail", but she'd been told to alert him if the woman's condition chaged, and it sure had done that. She cleared her throat and dusted her hands off on the front of her dress.

"She's...not well," she answered, deciding it would be kinder not to be as blunt out loud as she was in her head. "In fact, she's really not well at all, love. I checked on her just now, y'see, like I was told after my shift ended and...she's dead. Still a bit on the warm side, not gone long enough to be stiff and smelly, but I daresay you probably won't be able to help her much apart from a burial." She paused, then gave a little jump. "T'wasn't my doing, mind you. I wouldn't sip from a sick lady, I've better manners than that. Messy, besides, biting necks. So crude..."

She trailed off, remembering then that the man was blind. Perhaps that had been too much information there, but that and her absent-mindedness could be blamed on sleepiness as her own bed time was approaching. Clapping her hands together, she flashed him a fanged smile that he couldn't see and pat him lightly on the cheek. "Well, that was all, just thought you should know. Go back to bed, love. You look awful." She turned on her heel with a swishing of skirts, mumbling something to herself about having to figure out what to do with the body now, but before she could take two steps away she paused and turned again.

"Unless there's anything you need? Do you need to see her? Er, metaphorically speaking, of course."

[Tally]

"That...no, that can't be" Dead?  Just...dead?  Haven brought a hand up to rub at his forehead and temple.

He started to ask if she was certain—it was surprising how often people declared death when there was yet life in the body—but the way she described it just...didn't leave much room for doubt.  Well.  He didn't know what to say to this.  It wasn't what he'd expected when Maeve had come knocking on his door .  Actually, he'd rather expected the opposite, that the woman might be awake and able to speak now.  He'd been so sure she would survive the night.  If death was to come, he would have thought it would be in the days following, as a result of permanent damage to vital organs.  The energy he'd poured into her should have kept her alive for awhile at least, even if her own body failed.

Wait, did she...did she say sip?  Biting necks?  Light, this place was so strange.  He wasn't sure he wanted to ask exactly what she meant by all that.

Never mind.  Haven shook his head and brought his thoughts back to his patient, who he had failed apparently.  He heard Maeve clap her hands and felt her touch upon his face and shook his head again, this time in response to her suggestion.  There wouldn't be anymore sleep for him, not right now.  This news had him wide awake and bothered.

Of course he would have to see her.  As though he could do otherwise.  As though he could shrug and fall back into bed after hearing this.

"Yes," he said, already in the hallway and shutting the door behind him, staff in hand.  "I'd like to examine the body, if only to gage exactly what might have happened."

It was for his own benefit.  He could admit that.  If she died it was because he did something wrong or didn't do enough, and he needed the closure of seeing her.  Without that, she would never leave him alone; he would be perpetually restless until he saw the body and came to terms with it.

"I don't know the way to her room, could you lead me there?"

[Rhindeer]

"Well, if you insist, but if you drop you may just have to lay there until someone stronger than me can carry you back to your room," she told him, waiting until he had shut the door before snatching up his free hand in one of her own. Her hand was unnaturally cool. "Right this way, dear," she said, tugging him after her and muffling a yawn behind her other hand. "And after this, you had better go right back to bed! You should sleep at least until sunrise, any less just isn't good for you breathers. Why lose rest over what's beyond help, I always say..."

She chattered on as she lead him to the room, which was only two doors down from his, and swung the door open for him; she hadn't re-locked it. Not skipping a beat, she lead him to the woman's bedside and stopped there, frowning down at the body and letting go of Haven's hand--only to place it on his shoulder. "There she lies. It's a pity, really, but it weren't your fault. Oh well! That's life, isn't it? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm should go wake Hazel. We really ought to get her out of here before she starts attracting more bugs, or...leaks all over the sheets."

Wrinkling her nose at the thought and shaking her head, she turned and bustled on out of the room, giving him his space to do whatever it was he needed to do. Besides, it would take a while to wake Hazel, the lazy bum, and he so hated grunt work. But he was a man and, hired as just a cook or not, he could still lift heavier things than she and reach higher shelves, so he was going to carry the body, not her! A lady shouldn't have to do those kinds of icky things, anyway.

[Tally]

On the way to the room, Haven busied his thoughts with trying to puzzle out if Maeve was human or not.  It seemed rude to ask, and he rather enjoyed trying to figure people out.  Her hand felt like a human's, but much too cool.  Her voice sounded like it came from a humanish throat, with words shaped by human lips.  But there were the comments about...sipping on people...and she had said 'you breather' suggesting that she was not one.  Vampire, he decided, or maybe a zombie.  He made a mental note to somehow verify his guess later.  Maybe he would ask Hazel.

Actually he had no idea what Hazel was either.

The breeze of an opening door swept his face and the quality of their footsteps sounded different.  They were in the room now.  When they stopped, he felt the edge of the bed grazing his knees.

He waited until Maeve left before reaching a hand out and locating the woman's face.  He felt her forehead and cheeks, then sought her hands out as well.  She'd died hours ago.  Hours!  Strangely, there were lingering figments of his own energy signature still clinging to the bed and the body.  That was...odd.  And frustrating.  If her body gave out, she should have burned through all that he gave her and it should have sustained her longer than this.  That told him something.  It told him he'd messed up somehow.

He put a hand on his hip and huffed in annoyance before trudging out of the room.  Faint sounds of conversation and comings-and-goings lead him down the hall, down the steps, and into the common room.  What time was it?  Ah, Maeve had said something about sunrise.  Must be dark out yet, and that accounted for the quiet.  There were only a couple of people in the common room.  Haven found a table in the corner and sank into a chair, propping his staff up against the wall.  His back was throbbing and he was in a sour mood now.  He folded his arms on the table and lay his head upon them, weary but no longer tired.  Maeve's advice was good, but he was too restless to go back to bed.

[Rhindeer]

Hazel shuffled out of his room somewhere around the same time that Haven made his way downstairs and took a seat at a table. Yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he tried to wake up, he listened to Maeve as she walked close to his side, whispering to him and throwing the occassional sympathetic look Haven's way. Finally she pulled away, clapped Hazel on the shoulder, and marched off to go catch some shut eye. The sun would be rising soon and, yes, she did happen to be allergic to sunlight. It was a pity since she did miss the day and being able to tan, but at least she had an excuse for now having to deal with the body.

"G'morning, dears!" she said cheerfullyâ€"though she shot Hazel a quick and meaningful lookâ€"before she took off down a hall to her chamber.

Which left Hazel standing there blankly, still half asleep and trying to process everything. Eugh...Maeve had bailed on her. And aww...the healer guy did look really down in the dumps, head on his arms. Either that or he was still tired, but Maeve had babbled about how sad he'd gottenâ€"well, according to herâ€"when she'd told him the lady had died, and that it wasn't her fault the lady had died, either, she'd just checked up on her like she'd been told.

Hazel believed her, of course.

Hmm...

Running a hand through his curly hair, he stood there a moment longer as he let his eyes adjust. Maybe the guy was hungry, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that a good meal could brighten anyone's spirits, right? Besides, after the way he'd passed out yesterday and the energy he'd used, he'd have to be hungry!

Be a good way to wake himself up, too. Couldn't feel tired with nice smells wafting all the way to your stomach, and hey, that woman he was supposed to get rid of...pfft. Wasn't like she'd be going anywhere.

So with that in mind, Hazel gave a quick stretch and a long yawn, back popping, before he headed off to the kitchen to get things rolling. He didn't bother to greet Haven yet, because that would spoil the surprise! Besides, while he was at it he might as well prepare the ingredients and warm up the hearth for the rest of the day when the customers started coming, and...well, then he'd get to the woman. Didn't want the customers upstairs to start asking if they had any dead rats in the walls or anything. Wasn't good for business.

It wasn't too long before Hazel bustled on out of the kitchen, a white apron tied around his waist and a tray balanced on one hand, loaded with a plate full of food and a glass of what must have been orange juice, because it was orange. He gracefully slid it onto the table in front of Haven, of course forgetting to warn him in advance because he once again kind of forgot that he was blind and that might surprise him. Well, it wasn't that he forgot, it was just that he forgot to act in a way that was blind-person friendly.

"Heya, Healer. Brought you some breakfast!" Hazel announced, sing-song, before he plopped into a chair across from the man and propped his chin up in his hands. "On the house, yet again. Figured you need it. You looked beat last night. So! I gotcha orange juice and some orange slicesâ€"very high in energy!â€"and pancakes, because everyone likes pancakes, right? Man, I wish you weren't blind, though. Then you could get the full effect. Needless to say, though, your breakfast is quite happy to see you and it wants to be eaten, so you better not make it sad. You better not be sad, either. That'd make everyone sad."

Indeed, if Haven could have seen, he would have noticed that there was one large pancake and two smaller ones so that the overall design was that of a mouse. The larger pancake had a smile made up of blueberries and eyes made up of whipped cream and strawberries. The nose was a slab of butter.

"Hey, by the way, Healer, I don't think I ever caught your name."

[Tally]

"Ah!" Haven jerked up at a sudden noise and a voice and grabbed at the table to keep from toppling over backward.  Blehrgh.  Must have dozed off while he was sitting there.  He just sat there like a lump for a second before he was able to place the voice.  "O...oh!  Hazel!"  Right, the cook.

He let go the table and rubbed over the blindfold at the bridge of his nose and the places where his eyes would have been.  Sometimes, even after all these years, when he was very tired or stressed, an infuriating phantom sensation would haunt the empty sockets, an imaginary tingling that there was no cure for save to just wait it out.  He could feel the beginnings of it already.

"Thank you," he sighed, immensely grateful.  For the food certainly, but more so that Hazel had even thought of him.  Outside Adela, hospitality was a dice throw for any wanderer; you might be welcomed, harassed, or just ignored, even a healer.  One learned not to expect anything.  But when it was there, the grace of strangers was sustaining, uplifting.   As was the aroma of fresh pancakes.  It perked him right up, clearing his head and alerting him to just how ravenous he was.  "You really didn't have to."  Getting a room last night without expectation of payment had been a blessing; having food to eat besides the stale bread in his rucksack was a greater blessing still.  

He began exploring the dimensions of the tray and plate with his fingertips, locating the glass and utensils and finally picking up the fork to poke at the food and discover where everything was.  As the fork traveled along the edges of the pancakes and his face lit up. "It's a mouse!"  How delightful!  And how nice of Hazel to go to the effort.  Haven's stomach growled and he laughed sheepishly, only realizing just then that the last time he'd eaten had been yesterday morning.  That was a bad habit of his, neglecting his own health, pushing his body in ways he'd scold his patients for.  He started with the orange slices and though they were so refreshing he could have cried, he only managed a couple of bites before pausing, mouth pressed in a severe line.  "Ah...I'm sorry I lost your patron."  He shrugged as if he could shrug off the discomfort and spread his hands in helplessness.  "I don't know what went wrong.  I'm sorry."

If the family showed up and demanded an explanation from him, as sometimes happened, he'd have to go through this all over again, but for now it relieved some of his guilt just having said the words aloud to someone.  Even if Hazel hadn't known her, even if he didn't care, it still set Haven's mind at ease and allowed him to continue eating.

"I'm Haven," he said, smile returning.  "Haven Salvaros.  It's a pleasure to meet you, Hazel."  There.  That was better in the way of introductions.  They'd barely had a chance to speak last night.

[Rhindeer]

Hazel laughed when the healer finally figured out his pancake design, quite pleased with himself and happy to see that it at least brought a smile to the poor guy's face. Must be hard work being a healer. Stressful, he imagined, dealing with all those sick people and knowing their fate rested in your hands, seeing how they trusted you. But then he noted the serious look that passed over the other man's face and he tilted his head, surprised at the apology that followed.

"Hmm? Oh, it wasn't your fault," he said, blinking in confusion. "You did everything you could do, right? I saw whatcha did there! That was some pretty fancy work there and the way you looked after it was over, looked like you'd faint if you did any more. Didn't look good at all." He shrugged. "It happens, right? I didn't know the lady, but I'm sure she appreciated your effort and shoot, we were just lucky you were in the area when it happened! Talk about coincidence..." He trailed off, chewing his lip thoughtfully for a moment, before he smiled at Haven.

Even if he couldn't see it, maybe he could hear it in his voice. Better to move onto happier subjects and not dwell on the defeat, right? He really looked like he was taking the loss hard.

"Nice to meetcha, too, Haven! It's sure a pleasure to have ya here," Hazel chimed in. "Don't get many healers here at all. In fact, I think you're the first one I've met since I came here. Pretty shabby town, you know, lotsa weird stuff going down. Most healers probably steer clear 'cause that's all they'd be doing. So it's interesting to see you here! What brought you here, anyway?"

[Tally]

The reactions a healer received when he lost a patient varied every time.  Sometimes there was blame, even anger.  It was a relief to hear Hazel taking this so calmly, especially considering there was a dead body lying in one of the inn rooms.  Actually, Haven would have expected more unease.  Most people found death disturbing.  Maeve hadn't seemed all that put out by it either.  A quirk of Zantarians?

"I just felt I needed to say it."  The food energized him and the sounds of the waking inn engaged his senses.  It would be a long day with little rest.  The first day of work in a new city always was.  If possible, he would find a few moments alone later.  There were a few tricks he could do—short meditations, light trances—that would carry him through the rest of the day.  "I have a Sanctuary emblem for the door.  I'll make an arrangement with the innkeep for the room and the food."  It was a standard deal.  The emblem went above the door to let others know a Sanctuary healer was taking clients there and the establishment took a portion of his fees in exchange for lodging.

"Happenstance brought me here."  Haven smiled, time and distance letting him recall that long trek through the wilderness with good humor.  At the time it had been distressing, lost and alone on the old roads as he was.  "I was supposed to be heading north, but the mountain passes were blocked. A number of detours forced me south."  He paused for a moment before adding.  "I was in La'marri last."

The tone of nearby conversation shifted subtly.  There was a pause, a hesitation, from those close enough to hear him say the name of La'marri.  Haven wasn't sure how to judge that, if it was the usual hungry interest for news that one found in isolated regions such as this or something else entirely.

Every city had its own rhythm.  He'd only begun to learn Zantaric's.

When he finished the breakfast he laid the utensils upon the plate and pushed the tray away from him.  Now was a good time to ask his question.  It was the question he asked everyone he met, the question he would continue to ask until he found who he was looking for.  It was the reason he wandered from city to city and could never settle in one place for too long.  But where there had once been anticipation, there was now only habit.  He asked because it was just what he did.  After seven years, he no longer expected the right answer.

Haven laid his hands upon the table, the wood rough against his fingertips.  "Hazel...do you know a man named Zachary?"

[Rhindeer]

Hazel made a face and cringed, then gave sidelong glances at the people closest to them. Erk. Loaded name, La'marri was, and mentioning it around the wrong crowd was enough to get you shanked. By and large, Zantarians didn't think too highly of those La'marri fairies, though Hazel actually wasn't sure why. He'd never been to La'marri, and he'd never bothered to ask--which he had decided was the smart decision, anyway. He turned back to Haven and gave him a once over. He would have to fill him in on Zantarian etiquette and give him some words of advice since he was obviously planning on staying for a while.

Healer or not, needed or not, that wouldn't stop some thug from ending him. He was the perfect victim, really--blind, unfamiliar with the area, trusting, didn't look like he could put up much of a fight. And with some of the folks around here, it didn't even matter if he had money worth stealing or not.

"I see," he murmured, but for now he kept quiet about those details and let Haven eat his breakfast in peace. No need to bring up anything potentially disturbing now. It was polite to let him make it through breakfast at least, and it also gave the inn time to get all noisy again and time for the patrons to forget what they'd heard.

"Well, in any case, after what you've done I'm sure ol' inkeep will be more than happy to have you! Like I said, we don't get many healers though we sure need 'em, and a Sanctuary one? You'll be a fine attraction for this little inn." Hazel leaned back in his chair and stretched until his back popped, then straightened again and pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. "The other inns sure can't boast that they have a healer," he added, more to himself than to Haven. Of all the inns in Zantaric, theirs was probably the least popular. Small, old, in need of repairs, and...in need of a more diverse range of ingredients and spices for the meals, Hazel thought bitterly. He fancied himself a great cook, but even the best cook could do only so much with limited resources.

Hmph.

As soon as Haven was finished, Hazel reached out to gather up the tray, ready to whisk it away to the kitchen. But before he could stand up Haven spoke, so he settled back down and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. It could wait a little longer.

"Zachary? Mm...no. Not personally, sorry," Hazel said, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin atop them. "Might've run into a few people with similar names here and there, but it's not a very uncommon name, is it? Anyway, that's kind of a vague question. And I don't suppose you could tell me what he looks like, either. He live around here?"

He glanced around the tavern again. Conversation was back to normal and this was as good a time as any, so he leaned in closer, careful not to lean into the plate and any leftovers. "Psst, by the way, word of advice. Keep your back up here, yeah? The 'L' word? Not too wise to mention. This is a tough town and some folks here would eat you alive if they had the chance." He paused, then gave a little cough. "Literally, in some cases. But anyway, stick around inside here and you'll be fine! And if you need an escort, I'd be happy to help."

[Tally]

The scrape of chair legs against the wooden floor signaled Hazel's near departure from the table, but Haven's words stalled him and the tray gave a slight clatter as it was set back upon the table.

And there was the typical answer to his question, the only answer he expected anymore.  The man might have been dead by now, yet Haven got the feeling he would go on asking the question 'til the end of his days.  Unhealthy, that's what it was, to be so fixated on the past.  He shook his head.  "No.  I mean...he might.  I don't know where he lives.  Even if I could describe him, there wouldn't be much point.  If you knew him, you would know who I mean.  He...stands out."

Part of that was misleading.  Haven could have described him.  Very well, actually, in both personality and physical appearance.  He'd never forget that face, or the words he'd offered with a smile.

I have good news and bad news, Haven.  The good news is I've finally found what I'm looking for.

The bad news is I'm going to gouge your eyes out.

Haven might have lost himself in the memory, but Hazel spoke again and kept him in the present.

"The L word? Oh!  La'marri?"

Oh yes, there was a definite lull in the conversation around them.  Haven could just picture nearby patrons giving him dirty looks.  What was their grief with La'marri?  It was a lovely place!  And too far from Zantaric for there to possibly be tensions between them...or so he would have assumed.  Their respective philosophies on existence were very different.  The two towns even felt different, despite him not being able to see them.

Would he get the same reaction in La'marri if he mentioned Zantaric?

"Maybe I should just not mention...where I was last," he said, leaning forward to match Hazel's quiet tone.  "I appreciate the warning, but, ah, is it really so dangerous here?  You're just joking about...eating people alive, aye?  That doesn't really happen here, does it?"  I mean I...I can handle some things.  I'm on the road more often than not.  It's not as though I've never been set upon before."

Haven smiled sheepishly.  He was sounding like a nervous little animal with all this worrying.  "Ah, never mind.  I'll take the warning to heart and I'll be careful.  I might have to take you up on that offer, too.  I'll have to go out and replenish my supplies before I leave, although..."

He straightened up, wincing as his back protested.  "I won't be going anywhere until I heal up first."

Reconsidering Hazel's earlier words, he gave a little laugh and then added, "If Zantaric is as rough as they say, I ought to make a fortune here."

[Rhindeer]

Well, a fat lot of good that description did. Hazel let it go, though, because of course a blind man wouldn't be able to describe another man's appearance. He could have laughed at the comment that this Zachary 'stood out', though.

Live in Zantaric, and after a while there it became fairly difficult to top any oddness. If anything, a perfectly normal human being like Haven stood out like a sore thumb here. Add in his friendliness and naivete, and he might as well have wrapped a cowbell around his neck and hung chimes from his clothing.

And boy was he clueless.

Hazel cringed when Haven did it again with the L word, and again the chatter around them died down. Oi! The guy was going to end up shanked going on like that, but at least he finally seemed to get it. Yep. Seemed he was right to be worried about the man.

"That would be the smart choice," he agreed, and listened as Haven voiced his concerns. It was kind of good that the man was blind because then he couldn't see his amused grin. Aw. Poor healer was trying so hard to sound all brave and confident and skeptical and failing so miserably. It was kind of cute, watching him worry and try not to look like he was worrying. Set upon before, indeed. Hazel could believe that, and he also noted that Haven didn't mention the outcome of those encounters.

He couldn't imagine they would be in his favor.

Tactfully, he kept that thought to himself.

"I don't think you'll be disappointed here--when they say this place is rough, they mean it's rough. No lie, I wasn't bluffing about what I said. It's man eat man here, so you'll have no shortage of injuries. Might have some difficulty finding some lives ones to fix, though. Heh! Kidding! Just some black humor. Kind of. But anyway." Hazel's chair scraped loudly across the floor as he pushed it back, stretched his arms over his head, and then stood up. "Lemme get those dishes out of your way."

He picked up dish-laden tray, then paused to pluck the glass of juice off of it and set it down in front of Haven. "Don't forget your juice!" he said as he walked around the table, balancing the tray on one hand. Just before he passed Haven, though, he couldn't help but pause beside him so he could lean down and give him one last little scare. It was for his own good, though. Really!

"By the way, the eating thing? I mean it literally," he said quietly. "Like literally eat you, like you just ate those pancakes. I know you've met our lovely Maeve...she's a vampire, by the way. No big secret, everyone knows it. Blood-sucker. Slurps that stuff up like a fine wine. She won't snack on you or anything, though, unless you let her--I let her once, it was interesting--but no, she's a classy lady. Most people here? Not classy. Just a head's up."

Hazel pat Haven on the shoulder with his free hand and his voice rose back to its usual cheerful pitch. "Want anything else from the kitchen while I'm back there?"

[Tally]

"I believe you, I believe you," Haven said, holding up a hand as Hazel re-emphasized just what a dangerous place Zantaric could be.  "I'll be careful."  And so he would be.  But he wouldn't tread Zantaric soil cringing and afraid like a small prey animal.  Nothing invited the wolves to the hunt like a weak target, and he'd learned the hard way not to add to his troubles by displaying fear.

Besides, a mage was never helpless.

He followed the sounds of Hazel's movement and heard the plunk of the glass on the table.

"Like...the pancakes."  How morbid.  He grew quite still, mind racing through all manner of unpleasant imagery involving cannibals and...other things lurking in Zantaric's twisted alleys.

Hazel's hand on his shoulder startled him out of it, and he shed all of those bad thoughts and snapped his fingers.  "A vampire!  I was going to guess that."  Pleased, he folded his hands on the table and smiled.

"No, thank you," he replied, well aware that he'd probably kept Hazel from his duties longer than he should have.  "I should get to speaking with the innkeeper, anyway."  As Hazel retreated back to the kitchen, Haven sat for a few moments getting a feel for the room.  In his listening, he caught the innkeeper's voice off to his left.  Leaving the glass upon the table, Haven took up his staff and wove carefully through the tables and chairs, probing ahead of him with the staff's end to avoid running into anything and guiding himself by the sound of the innkeeper's loud chatter.

A quick and simple negotiation of terms, and Haven pulled the Sanctuary emblem off of his staff and handed it over to be hung above the door of the inn.  Finding his way back to his table proved easier, for necessity had built his memory into a finely honed tool.  He needed only one trek through a place for distance and direction and layout to stay clear in his mind.  All he had to avoid on his way back to the table were the patrons, and their noise made that easy enough.

His bruised spine still complaining, Haven eased himself down into his chair and picked up the threads of conversation around him whilst sipping at the juice.  Most of the talk was typical of what one would expect in an inn common room.  Work, trade, gossip, all the usual news.  His keen ears picked up two men grumbling about him, unless there was another Sanctuary healer hereabouts they would be muttering over, and their tone made him shift in his seat.

He had been sitting for sometime, empty glass in front of him, when the door to the inn banged open and a male voice yelled, "Oi!  Where's your Sanctuary princess, we need burn treatment over here!"

Dis held the door open for Sunni, motioning her in ahead of him.  He must have looked like a vagrant, shirtless and with his rust-red hair having not seen a brush in...hellfire, he didn't know how long.

[Rhindeer]

In the kitchen, Hazel finished up the morning meal preparations, then did a quick tally of their ingredients, what they still had and how much was left, what they needed--and lastly, what he wanted. He probably wouldn't get that, though, yet again. Too expensive. Didn't stop him from adding it to the wish list each time, though, because it would be nice to offer up some good, rich dessert. That's what this place was lacking, really. Needed more fruit, too. The stuff they had was starting to go wrinkly. Hopefully those blueberries hadn't been too mushy.

He had set a large pot of water over the hearth to boil while he chopped up some sad looking carrots and a stupid onion that had him all blurry-eyed and teary, deciding to get lunch fixed now so he didn't have to worry later, when the door banged open. The sound made him jolt and he nicked his finger right above the first knuckle.

"Ow! Gosh dang...would you watch the door?! We just repaired that!" he shouted from the kitchen, popping his finger into his mouth. It wasn't a bad cut, just one of those annoying, painful ones that liked to bleed beneath the skin first. Finger in his mouth, he glanced over the veggies to make sure he hadn't bled on those, deemed them fine, then sighed and checked over his finger again. Still bleeding, not bad but enough. He pressed it against his apron to staunch the flow, just like he had so many times before--the apron was spotted here and there with blood, and it sure wasn't all from handling raw meat.

Huffing a little as some man--he assumed the same one that had banged the door in--went on yelling, he poked his head out of the kitchen and had been about to tell him to be quiet, people were sleeping (not to mention he was grumpy about his finger) when his eyes landed on the blue-haired cat lady in front of him and his words registered. Oh! Burns!

...Ouch.

"Sanctuary princess...? Oh, wow, that was quick! Haven, you're up!" Hazel called, smiling and waving over at the other man even though he knew he was blind. Habit. "Toldja you'd make a killing here!"

Meanwhile, Sunni limped into the room, grasping onto Dis' arm to brace herself. Styx's powder was still in effect, lessening the burn pains, but it had been gradually wearing off and it was still no cure for fatigue. She leaned against Dis, ears down and tail swinging limply. She had to blink more frequently than normal just to keep her eyes open anymore, and her legs wobbled.

She tried not to look at her arms where the flesh was raw and red, the skin burned off. If not for Styx and shock, Sunni would have probably been sobbing.

Raising her eyes, she caught sight of the man the curly-haired one motioned to and then let her eyelids droop again. "She looks like a man..." she muttered absently, too tired to realize she'd said that rather than thought it.

[Tally]

Haven met the newcomers half way.  Getting through the common room was easy; everyone had paused to watch the commotion.  Dis guided Sunni to him and Haven offered his arm.  "Where is she burned?"

"Arms," Dis said, standing back and letting the healer take over Sunni's care.  He didn't want anywhere near a Sanctuary priest or their craft.  Treacherous, snotty creatures with their heads up their asses, every single one of 'em.

The patrons in the common room shuffled aside to let Haven and Sunni pass.  He lead her to the stairs and started upward.  Soft trigger words spoken quietly in Old Serenian sparked a soothing enchantment upon his staff into life.  Some form of low charm lay upon her.  He could feel the humming, constant, note of it thrumming against his skin but it was no human enchantment, nothing he could read, so he layered his own spell upon it to ensure her comfort.  It would work into her muscles and bones like soothing heat and keep away the physical hurt.

"I'm Haven," he said, leading her up and into a spare room.  The door shut out most of the noise from the common room.  "What's your name?  Can you tell me how this happened to you?  It might help in the treatment."

Dis, meanwhile, had watched them disappear upstairs, but had to rush to the door to stop Styx from shouldering his way in.  The dragon-bird's multi-colored head jutted past the doorway and swiveled from side to side and those idiot villagers near the entrance scrambled away, overturning chairs and shouting at Dis to control his animal.  Inbred curs didn't know a fruit dragon when they saw one.

Still, weren't no need to have Styx tearing the place up and getting Dis tacked with the bill.  He shoved at the feathered head.  "No!  Back outside."

Styx dug his back claws into the boards of the porch and would not be moved.  "Feed me," he rasped.  His two favorite words, those.

"You don't need any sugar water!  It ain't even been an hour since you shifted!"  Dis gave another shove.  It was like trying to push a wall.

"Feed me!"

Ah, hellfire.  Right...well, this was an inn.  And inns had kitchens and kitchens kept sacks of sugar on hand.  Dis cast about for the entrance to the kitchens and his eyes landed on a curly-headed twit in an apron.  "Hey!  Glasses!"  Nigh everyone in the place was staring at him now.  They needed to mind their own and go back to their cheap ale.  Dis ignored them and crossed the distance to the cook.  "Get me a sack of sugar.  Now."

[Rhindeer]

Drawn away before she could say goodbye to Dis, Sunni gripped Haven's arm loosely as he lead her up the stairs and into the room, and once there it took all of her willpower to keep standing. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, and it was finally starting to catch up to her. At least the burns didn't hurt that much. Whatever Styx had done, it was working well, and if anything they had only started to hurt less since coming here.

Odd...she could have sworn it was starting to wear off.

"I'm Sunni," she said once the door was closed, and when she looked up at him she realized for the first time that he was blind. Blindfolded. It should have been obvious, but everything had happened too quickly for her to get a good look at him and she had been too focused on staring on the ground so she didn't trip.

The way he acted, it was as though he could see. It was kind of humbling.

His next question was more difficult to answer, though--it wasn't exactly something she wanted to describe in great detail. Oh goodness. This was going to be fun...

Sunni let out a low sigh and let her shoulders slouch. "Uh...it was...snakes attacked me." Her ears flattened down and her eyes drifted to the floor, sheepish. "Fire snakes. In the lavafields..." She trailed off, glad Haven couldn't see her because her cheeks were burning. Real as it was, she still felt like a fool. "I know how it sounds--" And that was the tame part; she wasn't about to mention the dragons and exploding waterfalls and all that other insanity. "--but that's...well, that's what burned me..."



While Haven was off playing doctor, Hazel was left to deal with the girl's friend.

And he was not too happy about it. Already he was off disturbing the peace.

Not good for business.

"Hey, hey! No animals allowed. Control your pet, will ya?" Hazel called from the kitchen, grimacing. Good grief, the thing was blocking the damned door! With a sigh he ducked back into the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and continued chopping up the raw slab of beef he'd been working on for the stew. Oh well. Not his problem, really. On the positive side, at least no one would be leaving with that thing in the way, right? Haha, right. Oh well, let the innkeeper deal with it. He was just the cook. The only thing he got his hands dirty with was food-juice.

That was when he heard the man call out, "Glasses!" and his shoulders twitched. Aw no. He did not just call him--

Then the guy was there, demanding a sack of sugar--not asking, no, demanding like he was owed it, like they handed it out here like water--and Hazel slammed the blade through one last chunk of meat and turned to look at the other man.

His smile was pleasant as he tapped the flat of the bloody cleaver against the counter. "Sugar? Oh, sure thing!" he said. "Once I see some coin to back it." He flashed the man another smile and pushed his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose with his other hand.

Glasses.

Honestly...