Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 5 - Unwelcome

Galen took the menu and read it through. He wasn't very hungry, and Triss had landed a good blow to his ribs. He wanted to get home and experiment with a new healing salve.

"Maybe just the chilled soup and bread," he said.

"I'm going with the sausage hash," Triss declared. "Lords know what's in it, but it's always good."

She waved at the innkeeper, who was just carrying a tray of steaming plates to another table. The woman bustled over with a broad grin, wiping clean the little slate she carried so she could record their orders with a bit of chalk.

"Afternoon, lovelies," she said. "What can I..."

Her eyes went to Galen, and her smile faltered. She glanced between Triss and Behn.

"Something wrong?" Triss asked, leaning back in her chair with flame-colored brows raised.

The innkeeper swallowed and nodded towards Galen. "I'm sorry, but we don't serve his kind, here."

Confused, Galen glanced behind him to see who the woman was talking about, but the table at his back was unoccupied.

Behn's eyes went round as walnuts, and a muscle ticked in Triss's jaw.

"Oh yeah? And what 'kind' is that?" she asked, an audible challenge in her voice.

The innkeeper set her hands on her wide hips and pressed her lips into a line. "Foreigners," she said. "Pyrran slave-scum. Whores, an' the like. That sort ain't welcome."

Galen felt a strange chill as he understood she was talking about him.

"If you mean my friend, he was born and raised right here in Dern," Triss snapped. "He's as Thrynian as you are."

The woman shook her head, unmoved. "Don't matter. It's in the blood."

"Guess the Guard aren't welcome here either, then," Triss said, moving her hand so the woman could clearly see the emblem of the Watchers embroidered on her sleeve, along with the symbol of her rank.

The innkeeper's face turned a porridge-like color.

"Of course the Guard are welcome!" she spluttered. "The Guard are always welcome. In fact, you an' this young lad," she nodded at Behn, "may dine here just as you please. It's only him has to leave."

She jerked her head towards Galen again, and he had an odd sensation of being invisible, or a ghost; as if he weren't sitting right there, and didn't speak perfectly good Thrynian, as well as Sakkaran—the empire's common tongue.

Triss wasn't having it, though, and before Galen could think of something to say, she was on her feet.

"Nah," she said, tossing her napkin on the table as she rose. "See, if my friends aren't welcome, then neither am I. Come on, guys. Let's find somewhere else to spend our coins."

She turned and stalked towards the door, and Behn scrambled after her, red-faced with second-hand embarrassment. Galen followed more slowly.

At the door, the innkeeper caught up to them, her face flushed and her hands clutching at her blouse.

"Wait, please!" she called, and finally looked at Galen as she spoke. "I... I'm sorry. It's what they're saying at the Temple, is all."

"What are they saying?" he asked.

The woman chewed her nails and shook her head. "That Thrynis is shakin' the ground 'cause she's angry that we've lost our ways—that since we joined the empire, Thryn isn't... well, Thrynian enough. Thrynis isn't even on our coins, anymore. They say the only way to appease her wrath is to drive out foreign influence and get back to our roots."