Talon nodded and sat back. Caleb headed out through a door next to the bar, which Talon assumed led to the kitchen. Like most of his people, Talon had swum in the rivers and lakes in the mountains in all but the coldest months. He had cleaned his skin in the sweat lodge of his village; sitting with the men and women as they scraped the day’s dirt off their skins with gracefully curved sticks, then rinsed off with a bucket of tepid water kept next to the stones to make steam. Using soap and water—cold most of the time—had seemed a strange ritual, but Talon had learned to make it a habit. Most people, he noticed, including the nobility, seemed to bathe or wash their hands and faces at whim, yet those at Kendrick’s spent a significant amount of time bathing and washing. Talon had asked Lela about that, and she had said that it had been the habit there when she arrived, and she didn’t mind too much.
Talon thought of Lela now and his stomach tightened. He missed her, despite the excitement of the journey. He had never known a woman before her; as was the custom of his people, he would have remained untouched by a woman until the night of his wedding. The practice was not always observed, especially among those who had no mate chosen during the year they reached manhood or womanhood, but it was a tradition, and most Orosini followed tradition. Talon’s thoughts occasionally wandered to Eye of the Blue-Winged Teal and the other girls of his village; he wondered if they would have been as joyous in their lovemaking as Lela, who laughed and was playful as often as she was ardent. He pushed aside thoughts of his village and the girls he had grown up with, for it was still a painful subject for him if he dwelt upon it. Robert had taught him to keep his thoughts in the present or near future, for as Robert had told him, “To dwell in the past is to live in regret.’’
As was becoming his habit, Talon studied his environment. The room hosted a dozen tables, so perhaps as many as fifty guests could comfortably fit; more, if they didn’t mind standing at the bar. Talon recalled the exterior of the building, compared it to Kendrick’s, and decided there must be six or eight rooms upstairs. Like most inns of the region, some guests would sleep here in the common room, under the tables for a few copper coins. While the floor might seem unwelcoming, with a heavy cloak to lay upon it, it was definitely better than trying to sleep in the open. The banked fire in the hearth would provide warmth throughout the night, and there would be a hot meal available upon waking.
After a minute of quiet reflection, Talon saw the front door open and half a dozen burly men enter. They were all dusty and wore rough homespun. From their heavy boots with double-reinforced toes and uniformly massive builds, Talon assumed them to be porters, those who unloaded the trading wagons and carried crates to shops and warehouses throughout the city. They all walked quickly to the bar, and one shouted, “Angelica! Ella! Someone! We perish from thirst!’’
A couple of the men chuckled, but they all waited quietly for a moment, until Angelica appeared through the kitchen door. She greeted the porters by name and drew their drinks without asking their pleasure; obviously they were regular customers.
Over the next few minutes another dozen or so men entered the inn, all of them workers, either porters like the first group or wagon drivers and teamsters.
Caleb returned and sat down. “What have you learned?’’
Talon glanced at his companion. For a moment he didn’t understand the question, as he had been sitting alone. Then he realized that Caleb was asking him what he had deduced from his observations. He told him about his guess as to the size of the inn, then added, “The stabling yard to the rear must be spacious, because it took our wagon with ease, and we will use only one of the rooms. I assume it can house as many as a dozen horses, perhaps more.’’
“More,” said Caleb as a pretty girl entered from the kitchen and brought over a tray of food. “Talon, this is Ella.’’
Talon glanced at the girl, who was slender as a reed, yet he instantly saw the resemblance to Angelica. She was perhaps a few years older than Talon, with blue eyes and very dark hair, made dramatic by a very pale complexion and pinkly rosy cheeks. She wore a plain dress of blue linen and a white apron, but the belt around her waist revealed a pleasing proportion and ample curves despite her being so slender.
“Hello,” he said.
She smiled, and instantly Talon was struck by how pretty she was. She put down the tray and glanced at Caleb with an open warmth, then said, “I’ll be back if you need anything.”
As she hurried back to the kitchen, more workers entered the inn. When she reached the bar, one of the arriving porters called out, “Ella!’’
She paused for a moment and her expression darkened. “Hello, Forney,” she said, then without another word walked quickly into the kitchen.
Talon studied the newcomer. He was a young man, perhaps Caleb’s age, sturdily built with a thick thatch of black hair. His clothing was rough, but relatively clean. He moved to the bar with his companions.
Jacob came into the bar from the kitchen, greeted a few of the regular patrons of the inn, and came over to the table. Caleb pushed out a chair for him, and the young man sat down. “Your horses are bedded and fed. The bay mare was favoring her left front hoof, so I had a look at it. Picked up a small stone. Could be forming an abscess.’’