Chapter 1 | 20 (part 2)

Warm air rushed onto Amos’ face and into his clothing as he entered the inn, stooping a little to avoid the top of the doorframe. He had not realized how cold it was outside. Men and women sat crowded around several tables, particularly those which were near the inn’s hearth and a brightly lit doorway from which came a host of sounds and smells that could only be the inn’s kitchen. Tables and chairs at the edges of the inn’s common room sat empty. A passage to the left of the kitchen seemed to lead deeper into the inn. A secondary means of escape should it be needed.

He moved toward a table just beyond one of the larger groups of patrons; not so close as to be asked any immediate questions, but also not so far away that he’d draw unwanted attention. Against one of the inn’s walls, a large window hung directly above the table, loosely shuttered against the night air. It looked as though it could be opened without much force, if necessary. He sat down, his knees bumping against the side of the table, his figure hunched in the chair. He kept his cloak wrapped closely around him.

Staring at the empty chair across from him, Amos listened intently to the various conversations around him, every so often glancing up to see what emotions he might catch. He saw relief and joy as a woman told another about Sima’s new baby boy, and how happy his older brother was to have someone else to play with at home. A mixture of admiration and envy showed in several others as they talked of Hai, who would be in town selling some of his cheeses that week; one of them - El’hanan - couldn’t believe how productive Hai’s goats had been that year. Amos saw excitement in a few of the children as the older ones at their table spoke of hunting in the southern hills early next morning.

A small boy came up to him from across the room and, without any introduction, asked aloud if he wanted anything to eat or drink. Taken aback, Amos looked at him curiously before Responding. The boy repeated his question, impatiently speaking a little slower and louder this time. I must have missed his Call when he first arrived - some unspoken gesture or other with which I am unfamiliar. It appeared the boy hadn't understood his Response either. Not knowing what else to do, Amos nodded in affirmation, though it seemed grossly offensive to accept the hospitality of the boy’s master without first knowing his name or anything about his affairs. The boy stood there, now wearing expectancy. Amos grew even more afraid. It seemed that neither his nod nor his Response had made any impression upon him.

The sound of metal slapping the table caught Amos’ attention and looking across the room at another young boy standing nearby a table and pocketing a coin Amos suddenly understood. And cursed. I have nothing of value to offer the master of this inn. He turned back to the boy, shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively. It was the boy’s turn to wear curiosity. He hesitated, looking a little closer now at Amos’ cloak and clothing, until he seemed to realize what he was doing, at which point he quickly looked away and hurried back to the kitchen. Amos watched as the boy returned to the kitchen entryway and began to pull on the apron of a woman standing just inside the door.

I’ll need to find a way to barter with these people, or -

“Matias is well-known for his Cedroncillo Tea.” Surprised, Amos turned to face the opposite side of the table. A woman stood at its edge. “It’s meant to soothe nerves and put the heart at ease. Traveler, may I buy you a cup?” She glanced down at the floor and behind Amos, looking perhaps for his pack or belongings. “Something to eat as well?”

Again, he had felt no Call on his mind, but the look on her face made it seem she'd already done so, or at least tried to. She looked at him patiently and without hurry, her chest rising and falling in a steady cadence.

Just before Amos made ready to respond, she called out toward the kitchen, “Boy, bring two cups of Tea, a bowl of stew, and bread.” She pulled the empty chair across from him out from the table and sat down, spending a good deal of time settling into the chair and smoothing the folds of her cloak about her lap. When she at last looked up, she did not meet Amos’ eyes, turning instead to watch the patrons of the inn.

Amos studied the woman. She was short and wiry but had a strength in her posture and face. Her dark hair was peppered with grey and pulled close behind her head. An almost youthful expression of contentment touched her eyes. Surprisingly, Amos could see almost no other emotions, save several small concerns he could not recognize. For me? Or the guests of this inn?

Some time passed before the boy returned, bringing stew, bread, and two cups on a tray. Amos watched as the woman thanked the boy, leaning over her cup of tea and closing her eyes as she breathed in the rising vapors. The boy left, and he was alone with the woman once more. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed the chatter of the inn had somewhat subsided. Out of the corner of his eye he saw several of the guests looking more closely at him now - or perhaps at the woman.

She sighed, rolling her neck and shoulders, the steam from the cup still rising around her face. “Ah, and here we are,” she said, “I was beginning to wonder why we were to have a thunderstorm this evening with the winter rains still months away.”

Confusion must have shown on his face, for she added, “You’re not from around here, are you.” It wasn’t a question, so Amos remained silent.

It was the woman’s turn to study Amos. He watched as she took in the dark hues of his cloak and clothing, eyeing him without fear and what seemed to be a knowledgeable interest. Surprisingly, he felt her brush up against the walls he’d had around his emotions since he’d left the mountainside. Surely she is of mankind, though; I did not believe such abilities were given to them. Indeed, he saw no recognition on her face of what she’d felt, and after a few deep breaths, she turned her eyes back down to her tea, bringing her hands up from under the table and placing them around the cup.

“Well, I suppose it’s possible you’ve come on foot, though to have made it from Llamac or Popca without any sign of supplies or help, I should wonder at what strength you must have. Or perhaps your companions remain hidden outside the lights of Huaráz, and you’ve entered as their forerunner.” She brought the cup of tea to her lips. “Are you a forerunner, traveler?”

When Amos didn’t respond, she took a sip of the tea, closing her eyes and sighing again. “No, I think you came with that most peculiar storm that’s about to cause a lot of problems for our late season farmers.” She looked at Amos, and again he felt the press of her will against his inner walls. “Though how and - perhaps more importantly - why, I cannot understand.” She waited.

What things must this woman have seen for her to make such guesses? Besides the initial uncertainty around their hospitality customs, Amos could think of nothing he’d said or done outside the ordinary practices and habits of these people to arouse suspicion. He’d dressed as they dress, had taken a form indistinguishable from their own. Was she able to see through such things? Of one thing he was sure: this woman was here for a reason. Amos held no belief in coincidence. She is either for me or against me. She could not know such things otherwise. His mind raced as he considered how to respond.

It was at that moment two figures - they appeared to be men - walked into the inn, striding purposefully toward Amos and the woman.

. . .