The Innkeeper

Chapter 4

Viviane's home was warm and airy, herbal scents drifting around. Samuel hadn't had much time to do anything since he got back from the war, so this was his first visit. He had decided to make time for himself. It truly had a magical feel. The decorations had odd symbols and he wondered with a squirming in his stomach if she did dabble in the Black Arts. After seeing the Ranger's skill up close he knew it was just practice with the bow that got him such accuracy, like Samuel had done with other boys his age in the fields below the castle. With this room and Viviane's strange choice of decor, he couldn't say the same about her.

The lady herself waltzed into the main room and sat in an armchair before the fire. It glowed an unnatural color, one it certainly didn't when Malcolm was the village's healer. Samuel wondered what had happened to him, as Malcom had been a wonderful man who eased Isabella's worries about childbirth. The exchange had happened while he was away, and he was curious why the village had let Viviane stay, as she was very blatant about where she got her healing powers from. He hadn't heard anything besides whispers.

Through the rumor mill and tongue wagging that happened at his tavern he had picked up the basics. Malcolm had failed to heal one of the farmers' boys. Viviane had raised the alarm, and despite being a trusted healer for years, he was cast out. No one knew where he had gone to. Now, Viviane had taken his patients into her care. That just didn't feel right.

"Hallo," he said. "I'm Samuel."

"I know. I've heard a lot about you. What may I do for you today? Any aches or pains you wish away?" Viviane purred. She gave him a wicked grin that made him realize why she stayed. She sounded like she could curse the whole village with the flick of her finger. No one would reveal that thought in the light of day.

Samuel pulled his shirt down to reveal the back of his neck that protested every time his shirt shifted. "I can't tell what's there, but I think there might be bruising. It's a bit painful."

"Aye. I can see it might be. I think there's a nasty cut here too, not too deep, not too pretty. May I ask how this happened?"

"A tussle. The Ranger's fault, of course. All his fault. Self-absorbed sorcerers and the like," the innkeeper said. He regretted saying so much even though Striker made it sound like the whole town knew of Mavis' existence. "If you could give me something quickly, I have to prepare for dinner."

"Of course," said Viviane soothingly. She touched the sore parts and he hissed.

The sights and smells made his tongue looser than it would normally be, as if he were drunk off the scent of various flowers. He tried to hold it in, to no avail. "I believe this Ranger to be a no-good two-timing dog. A damn bad dog."

"And why's that?" she asked as she drifted over to a shelf of clay pots. The healer picked out a few herbs and began crushing them in her pestle.

Samuel groaned. "Supposedly he'd visit her. A lot. My wife, I mean. And I knew nothing about it."

"I see." Viviane added water to make a paste and then set up behind him. She carefully pulled his shirt out of the way and began applying it to his bruises, her cold fingers slipping around to the front of his neck as well. "And that makes you upset?"

"My wife had a male friend! One I didn't know about! Of course I'm upset!" Samuel burst out. He was hushed and relaxed under the feeling of fingers gently kneading his neck like he was bread.

Viviane paused for a moment in her movements. "I'm sorry I couldn't save Isabella. It was a tragic loss."

"You were the one who was there? Not Malcolm?" he asked. This was new information to him. He had thought Malcolm had stayed long enough for the botched birth. His poor Bella, having to deal with his woman, who was so softly rubbing at his neck. He relaxed further.