The Inn Ch. 02

The Imperial Mail is quick and reliable here. With a few good letters, I can blackmail or finagle or bait any number of heroes or plutocrats or master thieves into doing the things Juliette was supposed to do with the help of her friends. I can stop Necromanata from right here, if I work it correctly.

But the thought of Juliette made a dash of gloom sneak back into the air. Even if I could do all that, it wouldn't prevent her and the rest of my favorite characters from meeting a horrible end in the Maze.

No, it won't. But Phaeland is crawling with arch-magi who know how to traverse the planes of existence. All I have to do, once I've figured out how to outfox Necromanata, is play on all the secrets I know, pile up enough money to hire a master sorcerer, and get myself home. Then I write that sequel where it turns out the Maze of Dissolving Eyes is survivable.

I finished my eggs and got out my pen. Turning Juliette's note over, I started a list.

vault of the Golden Temple

Queen Freymara's Catacombs

Vark's Sword – still hidden under those floorboards until book seven

Tome of the Hidden Lands in Auurmithian Library

Duke Phurl – three mistresses, angry wife

Hireable Hal

the Folded Im

"Well, you're looking a sight more cheerful! Take your plate?"

Apparently it was my day to get crept up on while writing. Leyna stood at the table's edge, the swells of her cleavage right at eye level when I turned my head. I lifted my eyes to her face hastily, feeling my cheeks redden. If my look at her tits bothered her, though, it didn't show – she gave me that pretty, open smile and waited for me to answer.

"Sure. Yes, I'm done," I said, pushing the tin plate her direction. She picked it up with both hands and wiggled it slightly, still watching me.

"You and Galufrand hitting it off, then?" she asked, blue eyes lively and thoughtful.

I tapped my pen to the paper. "Apparently. He needs some document scribed several times over and saw that I'm handy with a pen."

She laughed. "That fellow and his books and papers! Is he paying you?"

"Thankfully," I said, nodding. "It looks like you won't have to turn me out when my shilling is up next week."

For some reason that put a slight crease in her brow, though it didn't dent her smile. "But ... I thought Juliette said she'd be back in a week. Aren't the two of you ...?"

Now my whole face went hot with embarrassment. "Oh. Um, well, we –"

The crease disappeared, and Leyna's fingers touched my shoulder reassuringly, for just a moment. "It's all right. Don't worry over it. I didn't mean to put any shame on you."

"Thanks," I said. Her smile, sympathetic and bright, smoothed away the awkwardness. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure she won't be coming back this direction. But I'm not going to let it get me down."

"There you have it!" She tapped the plate's edge to the table, once, and stepped away with her body half-turned. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will," I said. Then, before she'd gotten halfway across the room, I called out, "Leyna."

She pirouetted neatly at the sound of her name. "Yes?"

"I've changed my mind about those sheets." Things had turned a corner. I wouldn't be cringing under the covers tonight, sniffing for comfort in yesterday's cum stains. "Could you put on a new set when you have a chance?"

"Indeed I could!" she said, and then skipped off to deliver my dirty plate to the kitchen.

* * *

Galufrand dropped off my work a few minutes later, and I spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon making copies of a dense treatise that was half herbalism and half philosophy and all extremely sloppy bird-scratch, written in my runic alphabet besides. The process absorbed me – having to puzzle out the eccentric handwriting, translate as I went, and keep my own penmanship neat enough to earn me more work down the road. Leyna appeared humming from the back of the inn and made her way upstairs, carrying an armload of linens. A bit later she came back down with the dirty ones, still cheerful and bustling. Townfolk wandered in for lunch, were served by Leyna or Burgham, and wandered out again. My own midday meal consisted of stew and bread, which I ate left-handed so I could keep writing.

By dinnertime, I found myself beyond grateful for Lord Weltfordshire's heirloom pen. You can't write for that many hours without your fingers starting to ache or develop indentations, but the glossy blue barrel of that fountain pen fit so comfortably in my grasp that I got through three of the five copies I had to do before any real discomfort showed up. And after a break for sausage and porridge, I managed a fourth without crippling my hand.

Capping my pen to call it a night, I found the evening crowd had thinned out, leaving just a few patrons at the bar and a table of card players. Leyna stood chatting at the base of the stairs with some middle-aged fellow who had a mercantile look to him. I tapped my papers square and rose to head up to my room.

But when I came abreast of the merchant and the inn's nubile blonde serving girl, I heard her chipper voice say, "... 'll be tuppence a blow, a fiver a go, or ten for the whole night."

The words stopped me like a conk on the head. Was I really hearing ...? Leyna gave me a perfectly innocent smile and a winkling-fingered wave, then returned her attention to the man, who worked at his beard with a thumb and forefinger like someone about to haggle. He opened his mouth, then shut it and gave me a glare when he realized I'd come to a gawking halt in front of them.

"D'you mind?" he asked bristlingly. "I'm trying to buy this girl a locketful."

"Sorry, my apologies – excuse me, please," I said, jerking my gaze away and hurrying past. I couldn't believe it ... sweet, amiable Leyna, selling herself by the copper piece to passers-by?

"Beds here aren't well-sized for two," came the merchant's voice as I continued up the staircase. "So just a tumble will suit me. I'd be happier paying four than five, though."

"Four will get my skirts up," Leyna replied brightly, "but I don't unlace my bodice for less than five. Too much time and effort."

The man said something back to her, but I'd reached the second floor and turned the corner, where my footfalls on the wood floor were enough to cover the receding sound of their conversation.

Four pence to fuck her! I thought as I turned my key in the lock. It sounded so cheap and sleazy. But as I shut the door behind myself, the man's phrase came back to me: I'm trying to buy this girl a locketful.

A locketful of purity oil – the magic fluid people in this world used to fend off pregnancy and venereal disease. Phaeland isn't Earth, I reminded myself. They've got perfect protection, and there's practically no sexism or sexual neurosis to be found. I'd written the place that way. It shouldn't shock me to see it in action.

As I put Galufrand's painfully dense disquisition on the room's tiny desk, I shook my head, uncertain whether to feel pleased with myself for creating a world of largely uninhibited, entirely safe sex – or guilty over setting that pretty young blonde up to whore herself.

And then I heard footsteps and Leyna's laugh pass by outside my door.

That's not an act, I thought. She's perfectly happy to be earning some extra money and having a good time in the sack while at it.

I knew how this worked – I'd written a number of brothel scenes into the Juliette Ravendark books, and there was that temple of holy prostitutes I'd thrown in after reading up on ancient Corinth. But somehow I still fought against the idea of it being perfectly within social convention for people to trade sex for money.

No, I realized. It's not people trading sex for money that I'm fighting against, is it? It's Leyna trading –

Through the wood-paneled wall that the bed butted up against, I heard a door shut, and then more of Leyna's laughter.

Oh shit. They're right next door.

I looked around the room. Fuck. This isn't like staying at the Hilton for a convention or a book tour. I'd come upstairs just like I would have after any long day on an out-of-town trip. But medieval inns didn't have mini-bars or a television to turn on. Leyna and the bearded traveling peddler were about to do the nasty on the other side of an obviously thin wall, and I had nothing to cover the noise or even distract myself from it. From my spot by the desk, I could hear every third or fourth word either of them said. Once they got going, there'd be no ignoring it.

Should I go back downstairs?

Unbidden, the thought came to me: If the walls are this thin – anybody in the rooms to either side or walking down the hall must have gotten an earful when Juliette and I were banging away yesterday.

And then another thought: Overhearing your neighbors is like the hotel-room porn channel in a place like this.

Leyna's curvaceous figure and smooth, pale neck and the mounded-up bounty of her bosom in that low-cut blue dress all came back to me. My mouth went dry.

Would she think I was a total creep for eavesdropping on them?

Of course she wouldn't. She knew this inn. She worked here. She knew which room was mine. She knew I'd just come upstairs. So she had to know I was going to hear it if they got noisy next door.

And she didn't care.

It's the kind of place this is, dude. You invented it.

I walked quietly over to the wall that held my fireplace in one corner and the head of my bed in the other. I couldn't hear clothes being shucked or belts being unbuckled, but I could mostly hear the merchant's voice as he undressed.

"... fine lush fruit you are, lass," he said. "Damn it ... at extra pence for ... look at your teats ... sounding more and more worth it!"

Leyna laughed again. "I've been told they're cheap at the price."

"Oh, by Kethera's sculpted clit, then! Five pence it is."

"I'll start unlacing."

An image popped into my head: her dainty, smooth fingers ticking their way up the bustier-style front of her dress to the bow-knot at the top.

"So what do I call you, good sir?" she asked.

"Turrup," he said. "I suppose some friends say 'Turry,' but my wife does too, so ... Turrup would be better."

"Haha, but what would be better than 'Turrup?' I didn't ask your name. I meant, what would you like to be called."

"Oh. Ehr ... well ... I mean, Turrup is fine."

"Aha! There's something else, though, isn't there? I can hear it plain as day. What do you really want me to say – in the throes?"

He left a long pause, then said, "I ... have this niece, Cossy. And I'd never touch her, mind you, even if she weren't married. But ... she's grown so full and womanly these last few years, and she looks a bit like you, so ... 'Uncle.'" Something solidified in his voice, and when he spoke again, he sounded surer. And pleased with himself. "There, that's what I want to hear. 'Uncle.'"

"Uncle it is! So how would you like me, Uncle? On my back, or on-the-knees, bitch-in-heat-wise?"

The verve in her voice made me swallow. I sat quietly on the edge of the bed where I could lean in against the wall. It felt dirty and sordid and sneaky in the most cock-engorging possible way. I could hear everything. They were about to fuck. My chest seemed to forget how to breathe.

"On your back, if you please," Turrup said.

"Oh, I do please. Promise! And look, these laces are done."

"Lords of laying!" he swore. "They're magnificent!"

"Thank you! Worth the penny, would you say?"

"Let me touch them. Oh yes, best I ever spent."

"Here then, Uncle. Come and bed your favorite niece." God, Leyna! So nasty!

A creak came through the wall then, a gentle one, and I imagined that beautiful young golden-haired woman, easing herself to the mattress, breasts bare as she gathered her skirts toward her waist.

"Ahh, these legs! There's so much more to them with the skirts up! And they're like silk!"

Leyna responded in a voice low and sultry and coy all at once. "And what should I do with them, Uncle?"

"Spread them, Cossy." The merchant had a fire in him now. "Be a good girl and spread your legs for Uncle."

"Like this?"

"Sweet Saint Eldava, that's a sight. Wider, though, dear girl."

"Like this?"

"Gods ... your slit looks like the valley of the heavens."

"And the lowlands are well soaked, Uncle. So why don't you nestle in here and stob that stick in my muck?"

Jesus.

Their bed made a sharp, woody gasp at Turrup's weight.

"Oh, Cossy. You're so ... this is ... I mean I ..." After a clearing of his throat, he finally got out, "Are you ready?"

"I'm aching for the taking, Uncle Turrup. Please. Now. Take me."

"UH!"

"Oooh! Uncle ... Uncle, yes! Uhhhhnncllle ..."

I said 'uncle' too, and undid my pants at last. I tried to shift quietly to get them down and let my hard-on loose, but a bang of Turrup's headboard against my wall said I had no need for stealth.

"Fuck!" cried the merchant. "Cossy, this cunt!"

"Oh, Uncle, you're so big in me. It's like an ox pizzle ... yes ... Uncle, bull me like I'm a heiffer!"

The knob of my dick had precum all over it, slippery and shining with voyeuristic lust.

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh, girl!" With every grunt, Turrup hammered their bedframe to the wall. I smeared the slick leakage all over my shaft and stroked it in time to his thrusts – eyes closed, brain on fire with images of ripe young Leyna getting stuffed full of cock.

"Plow me, Uncle! Oh, till me with it, till me ..."

I could hear the catch in her voice, hear her groans beneath his grunting. If she was faking it, she belonged in a theater somewhere, not hoisting her legs in the lumpy beds of a country inn. That's not acting, I told myself as each firm pump of my hand seemed to coax out her gasps. She's really enjoying herself.

And of course, the merchant was too. "NGHH! Cossy! Oh, my fine little Cossy! Uncle's about to burst!"

Not yet, you bastard! I'm not close enough!

"Oh, yes, Uncle! But slow down, slow down – I'm almost ready – let's meet the cusp together ..."

"Cossy – ahgh – it's so good ..."

"Uncle, not yet! Don't you want to please your little niece?"

"Huhhnnnn ..." The shaking clatter of wood against wood paused, and then a slower, softer song of bed-squeaks followed. "I do, Cossy. Show Uncle what a man he is. What a tool he has."

"Yessss ... Uncle, work it in me like that ..."

Oh, thank you, sweet Leyna. My cock responded to the rumble in her voice and the pumping of my hand. Their rhythm fell gentle but steady. Her moans came in time to the sighing of the bed-frame, swelling and easing and swelling and easing until my balls felt lit-up and brimming with eager seed.

"Oh, Uncle ... more ... more ..."

Yes, Uncle Turrup, give it to her. Somehow, instead of jealousy, I felt an immense gratitude toward the merchant as the two of them humped louder and orgasm roused itself deep in my groin. Give her that cock. Make her cum for me ...

"Uhhh, Cossy ... I can't ... not much longer ..."

"I'm there, Uncle – I'm there! Oh, gods of delight, Uncle, fuck your spew into me!"

"Ah! Yes! Cossy!"

Three hard slams rang against the wall, the last one powerful enough to shake my bed too. I whacked with steam-engine heat and speed, precum flowing in gobs, the flesh of my shaft thickening, flaring ...

"UHHH!!"

"Ooooohhhh!!"

Fuck!

The train of my orgasm arrived and gouted in streamers past my knees and my lowered trousers to spatter the wood-grained floor. I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out along with the couple next door. How well I succeeded I'll never know, but the orgiastic clash of Turrup's voice against Leyna's doubtless covered any whimpers or groans that got past me.

My dick throbbed and gushed. The wall beside me trembled in time to the lowering vocals of climax on its other side. A few final moans paired up with the last dribbles of semen I let out on the edge of the mattress.

"Pearls and diamonds, girl," Turrup gasped from the other room. "I've never had a fuck like that."

"Thank you," Leyna giggled. "It's nice to have my talent's noticed ... although I'm guessing Cossy gets a smidgen of the credit too."

"Oh, gods, don't say that," the merchant replied. "If I allow that she might be as good as you, I'll end up sneaking past her husband and making a total ass of myself sometime."

"Well, I hope her husband's as good for her as you were for me just now. A well-wielded prong does make sluttery a joy. Sure you don't want to throw in the extra five to make it a night?"

"Gah. What I want and what I can afford's two different things. I'm to be up by dawn tomorrow and headed for Umbleshire, and thanks to those wondrous breasts of yours, I'm already a penny over budget here in Piperville."

Leyna laughed once more, then gave what sounded like a large and wet kiss. "Up and off me, then, dear Uncle. I must douche and get myself to bed as well. Burgham's cross if I'm not downstairs ahead of the first breakfaster of the day."

I heard him sigh, followed by more creaks of their mattress and bed.

Then Turrup said, "Can I touch those once more before you put them away?"

"Of course!"

They both went soundless, so that I could only imagine him fondling her, staring down at her plentiful rack in his hands.

"Marvelous ..."

"Well, keep them in mind for the next time you're back in town – and plan a bigger budget!"

"Yes ... yes, I'll do that."

She laced back up in silence, and then I heard the sound of the door, followed by a head dropping heavily into a pillow beyond the wall.

I felt lucky I didn't have five pence to spare ... because I'd probably have stumbled to the door pants-down and made an idiot of myself propositioning her if I had the money.

Would I really? I wondered. She seemed so happy and nice. Would I really buy a trip between her legs if I had the chance?

One thing seemed certain: if I stayed long enough, and Galufrand paid me well enough, I would probably find out the answer to that question.