The Weaver's Source

Chapter 98

Grigore pulled me passed him and into the inn. It wasn't warm inside but it was better than being out in that bitter cold. The room was virtually empty and only two tables were occupied with large men, drinking sullenly. A young woman swept the floor. She looked thin and her face was gaunt and her eyes empty.

"I need a bed and a bath." Grigore announced as he approached the barman.

The elderly man blinked very slowly as he woke himself from his doze.

"In the back there." He said as he raised a shaking withered finger. "A bronze."

Grigore slapped some money down and the barman very slowly pulled out a key. He handed it to Grigore without a word.

"Do you sell food?"

"Ask her. She cooks." The man said simply and returned to his doze.

I turned to look at the dazed woman, hanging back when Grigore approached her. But when a glass shattered, it was as if she woke up.

Whirling around with venom in her eyes, the woman scowled at the poor customer who had fallen unconscious on his table and shoved the glass aside.

"You shall pay for that!" She hissed as she stalked forward, startling the drunken man into consciousness. "Do you know how much glass costs?"

The man was blinking madly, confused about the hurling of abuse of the skinny woman. He shied away from her as she spat and yelled, grabbing his collar and dragging him to the door. Once she had shoved him outside, she calmed down instantly and set to work in cleaning up the mess.

"The barman said to come to you about food." Grigore asked as he approached her again.

The woman looked up sharply. "Yes. Soup only. I'll bring it to you once this mess is sorted out."

Grigore didn't argue and backed away, pulling me to a table in the corner of the small room. I snuggled into the corner, still wanting my furs on despite being out of the wind and snow. I watched Grigore carefully, noting the uncertainty in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced up at me and offered me a thin smile that crinkled his eyes. "I'm not sure." He paused. "Not that it matters. We're leaving as soon as dawn comes."

I was pleased to hear that. I didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary.

I watched as Grigore leaned forward as he began to weave, making me worry. Too often had we been stopped because he was hired and I didn't want him to lose out on more time. Not that his magic use was the thing that gave him away, more his scars and the charms littering Ursus. People seemed to know who and what he was instantly, no matter what he did.

I leaned back in the chair, content as my eyes never left Grigore's hands. I always enjoyed watching him work magic, loving how his hands and fingers worked, as if they had a mind of their own as they moved lightly, drawing and tearing and piecing the ward. It felt good being able to watch and admire him without feeling embarrassed or confused.

The golden ward that pulsed and wobbled between his fingers shined gently as Grigore closed his eyes and focused on what he wanted to see. A few moments later, my magic hummed in recognition of a ward nearby breaking. It still impressed me that Grigore had figured out how to seek and destroy the covering ward that Sorin had created so quickly. He wove a new one swiftly and I felt his magic reached out, small webs sifting through the town.

I smiled at the hawk like waitress came swiftly towards us as Grigore remained focused on his ward with growing irritation. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she placed two bowls of brown slush in front of us but said nothing about it.