There was a lot of activity inside the tavern. The seating area had been re-arranged to make space for a harpist, who was playing soothing music, while the patrons listened and clapped. Their feet rhythmically tapped on the floor, while their heads swayed side to side with the music. Deeper inside the tavern, there were other patrons who were not as concerned with the music as they were with their ale. Still, on and off, they cast a glance behind, to take in the proceedings, and raise their froth-tipped mugs.
But both Shervin and Naira weren't here for music. They only wanted to eat, and if possible, have a bed each to sleep for the night. But no one was paying them much attention.
Soon, the harpist began to sing a song while he plucked the harp, a song Shervin had heard long ago, when he was three years old. When his mother was still alive. Momentarily, Shervin was transported back to a simpler time. The same house, near the edge of Rukhnar, in the village, but with more character. When there was music in his home too.
The little he knew about his mother, he had heard from his father. She was a painter, and a singer, and came from a city that was all 'rainbows' -- that was a word used by his father. He probably meant a colourful city, but Shervin wondered if there was more to it.
Now, inadvertently, he too found his feet tapping in unison to the beats of the song. And when the song ended, and the applause washed over the room, Shervin found himself pulled out of a trance.
"I am not sure if we'll find much to eat here," said Naira.
That's when a thin man wearing a brightly coloured hat got up noisily from a nearby stool and approached them.
"Are you sure you haven't lost your way?" he asked.
"We are from Rukhnar," said Shervin. "As I am sure you must have heard, there was an attack."
"Hmm, don't know nothing about an attack," the man grunted. "This place is not for kids. You will find better luck in the next town."
"Oh come off it, now, Garu!"
A middle-aged woman emerged from the shadows in the back, wiping her hands on her apron. Thin lines creased her forehead and the top of her lips, but her eyes looked young as ever, dazzling blue.
"They look like they are trouble," said the man called Garu.
"They are kids," said the woman. "Probably lost their way."
"We don't want to cause any trouble, nor we are looking for any," said Shervin. "We are just hungry. Some flatbread and stew, if you can spare, and a bed for the night. I'll pay for it by cleaning your dishes."
"And I know some Warding," said Naira. "I can help out in more ways than one."
"See, Garu, harmless after all," said the woman. "Warding you say, now? Girl, if you can help me clean the kitchen and this hall after midnight with a simple spell, I will forever be in your debt. Because I am really short-staffed today."
"I'll see what I can do," said Naira.
"Then follow me to the kitchens," said the woman. Shervin looked at Naira. Both nodded at each other and did as was told. Garu sneered at them with stained teeth.
The kitchen smelled divine. Shervin hadn't eaten anything, really, since the morning, so his stomach began to gurgle as soon as he entered the kitchen. Here, he was really spoiled for choice. There was stew, there was meat, there were pickled vegetables, there were all kinds of bread and cheese.
"Well, if you're thinking you'd be served, you're mistaken," said the woman. "Help yourselves. Pick a bowl and a spoon. Eat till you're full, we have plenty here."
"Who are they?" asked the cook, a grubby old man with a scar on his forehead. Shervin had almost reached for the bowl kept on the large table, when he stopped.
"Wayward children from the edge of the world," said the woman.
"They better not mess around. Today is a busy day, and I haven't even started on marinating the goat for tomorrow's lunch menu."
"They are harmless children, who are just hungry."
There was a brief pause, as Shervin waited for another signal to tear through the food. The woman nodded, ever so slightly. That was all Shervin needed. He grabbed a bowl and a ladle, and scooped up the chunkiest part of the stew, one with the most meat and vegetables in it. Naira followed suit, doing the same, but skipping the meat altogether. Like hungry wolves, they devoured their first helping within an eyeblink, immediately going for seconds and thirds. The woman watched.
When he was done, Shervin washed the bowl and the ladle under tap water and kept it neatly stacked against the rest of the utensils.
"If I may ask," said Shervin, wiping crumbs off his lips. "Why is this place called Fang and Tail?"
"Well, I am not the owner," said the woman. "I just run this establishment. The man who owns this tract of land, and this building, was a big believer in the One who Sits on the Obsidian Throne."
"The Violet God?" asked Shervin.
"Whatever you people call him," said the woman. "I am not much of a believer, anyway. As I said, I just run this place."
"The battles that happen above in the sky, and make nations fall, do not concern us in the slightest," said the cook. "We are simple people, living our simple lives."
"Haven't you heard what happened in Rukhnar?" said Shervin. "A Void Demon tore through the town."
"We barely escaped and made out alive, somehow," said Naira.
The woman glanced at the cook.
"You are still living in fairytales," said the cook, stirring a big cauldron. "My grandmother told me about the Void Demon. In her tales, it was a cute little black gremlin, with teeth that glinted in the dark."
Shervin was unable to wrap his head around the nonchalance of this place. It was hardly ten miles away from Rukhnar, and yet, they couldn't be less interested in the affairs of the world.
But then, the woman looked at Shervin severely.
"You said you weren't looking to cause trouble," she said. "Don't tell me you brought trouble with you."
"We have not," said Shervin. "If we can just get a warm bed to sleep in, we will be out of your way by tomorrow."
"No, Shervin. If the non-believers don't want to believe in the world, that's up to them. But don't let them minimize what you went through." Naira asserted. "Look, lady, we are thankful for the meal. We will find lodging elsewhere. Shervin, let's go."
Naira held Shervin's hand, but he was reluctant to move. He was torn. Outside, a harsh world waited for him, and inside the tavern was warm and cozy. He was well-fed, and he just wanted to crash on a bed, and forget the troubles of the world for just one night.
"You can stay," said the woman after some time. "We have some spare beds upstairs. I'll arrange for fresh sheets. But I want you two gone by the crack of dawn."
***
An hour later, Shervin was in bed. He sank under fresh sheets, and felt a warm cocoon around himself. The day wore heavy upon him, and soon, his eyelids drooped. He could hear the distant hum of the singer below, as the night wore on, but that too faded, as sleep enveloped him.
He dreamt of an Obsidian Throne in the skies, the same throne he had seen when he had touched the shrine.
But above the Throne, two red eyes appeared, red as flame. Shervin felt terror grip his heart and he woke up, drenched in sweat. His shirt was stuck to his chest and his skin had gone pale. He looked out the window. The sky was pitch dark, and the moon hung low. It was not yet dawn.
He tried to go back to sleep, but this time, sleep eluded him. His throat felt parched, but there was no water in his room. He tiptoed towards the door, so as not to wake Naira, who was fast asleep on the other side of the room.
That's when he heard whispers coming from downstairs. He strained his ears to listen.
"...they said they're from Rukhnar..."
"...is one of them a tailor's boy? About this height?"
"I don't know anything about a tailor..."
"...they are dangerous..."
A shudder ran through Shervin. They were talking about him and Naira.
Who were these people?