The wooden cup the one-eyed innkeeper smashed on the roughly cut table had most probably never been washed, but it didn't disturb the traveller the slightest bit. On the contrary, he raised the cup to his mouth - the candlelight playfully twinkled on the abbit-steel holster of his dagger under his dusty travel cloak – and emptied it before the innkeeper could count to three, returning it and nodding for a refill. The beer disappearing in his dry throat like the scarce raindrop in the ever-thirsty sand of the Taba el-Ibara was lukewarm and bitter, but he didn't mind.
Having not had a drop of water in his mouth for two days - he emptied his water sac when the last sand storm cut him away from the rest of the jaad slave caravan - the beer quenched his worst thirst and he, satisfied, wiped his mouth against the back of his right hand. Suppressing the urge to burp, he let a faint smile wander on his badly burnt face and his features relaxed a little. Only his eyes, restless, piercing blue eyes didn't stop for a moment as they scanned the interior of the inn for anything suspicious. At this time of the year, the dry season, two days without water in the heat of the Taba el-Ibara could easily kill even the most tough nomads, but the traveller survived somehow; having been in quite a few tough situations in his restless life, he knew quite a few tricks how to stay alive when everyone else would give up.
Silver clanked on the table - the innkeeper hungrily grabbed the few Abasisian coins before their dance ended on the tabletop – and slid the second cup of beer before the traveller. This time, the beer was cold with a thick layer of foam; he must have gone down the cellar to broach another cask, the one he kept for more important guests than his usual patrons: pirates, Hessians, travelling bards, the odd freelance poison-maker. The cold drink smoothened the traveller's throat and he took his time with this one, drinking it in small gulps and enjoying each drop of it with his eyes closed.
His senses felt the inn-keeper still standing beside him and he, eyes still closed, probed his voice. “Can I get something to eat in your establishment?” It was hoarse for being unused for the past few thirsty days – not that the traveller was a big talker anyway – but, to his surprise, the innkeeper nodded approvingly, perfectly understanding the curt question. Of course, the stranger spoke the flowery language of the jaad perfectly, just like the harsh, mystical language of the far Western Crane, the livid speech of the temperamental Gorvik on the East of Ynev, even the sophisticated and unnecessarily complex language of Pyarron with its 28 verb tenses that had been existing only in histories, fairy-tales and bards' songs ever since the Big Burning, but then... he was a master of survival and blending in.
The jaad suddenly became all attention. He smelt money on the stranger; he knew if he was playing his game well he could earn a week's turnover on this one single visitor. He allowed a huge smile form on his broad, tanned face as he bowed deep before the foreigner with the piercing blue eyes.
“If your lordship wishes so, I can serve you a whole tasty roasted chicked with sweet potatoes and two more beers for a golden Abasisian ducate.” The mock sweetness and friendliness was dripping from his voice, not that the traveller was expecting anything else from a jaad. The fire burning in his blue eyes died out and he smiled back at the innkeeper – his smile, however, honest and thankful, even though he sensed that the other man was trying to rip him off.
“Done deal, my friend,” his voice restored completely, thanks to the fine beer, “if you throw in a room for a night for a second piece of gold.”
The jaad, at first, wanted to trade for two gold pieces, after all, trading was in his blood, in the blood of his fathers and forefathers, but something in the dreamy gaze of the traveller warned him that this was neither the time nor the place to make his fortune. Instead, he admissively bowed his head again, but this time less respectfully. “I will prepare my best room for you, Sir, while you will be eating,” he murmured. “But only if you pay in advance,” he continued mentally.
