The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) by Garrett Robinson (elon musk reading list TXT) 📕

there was no sign of ache or pain within her. I saw no bruises on her skin, and of course, as you can imagine, there were no cuts or scrapes, either. I shook my head at it more than once, as we readied ourselves to emerge from our room. Even vampires, inhumanly strong beasts though they were, had been unable to injure Mag in any lasting way. She had been part of my life for more years now than she had not. Yet not even age, it seemed, had proven able to catch her in its inevitable grasp.

When we made our way at last to the common room, we found Dryleaf sitting by the fire, in the very same place he had been when first we met him. I crossed the room to speak with him while Mag went to settle our account with the innkeeper. Dryleaf seemed to recognize the gait of my footsteps, for he tilted his head up eagerly, his milky eyes staring just over my left shoulder.

“I hear you have become heroes,” he said.

“Some seem to think so, yes,” I told him. “But we were only two among many who fought bravely last night.”

“Yes,” said Dryleaf, his bushy brows dancing as he nodded. “Yue suffered some injury, I hear, but it sounds as though she will make a full and speedy recovery.”

“That is good,” I said. “She stood bravely against the monsters.”

Dryleaf’s shoulders rose and fell, as though with a sigh, but he made no sound. “And I suppose you have seen to your purpose here in Lan Shui, then. Will you be leaving town?”

“We will,” I said. “We have business elsewhere.”

“Most people do, when they come to visit Lan Shui,” he said. “Yet a place may be a way-stop, and still people make for it when occasion arises.”

“I thought I would ask—if you do not mind—would you accompany us this morning?” I said. “We want to visit Yue before we go, and I know you are fond of her. And I would appreciate your company.”

Dryleaf got up so fast, I was afraid he would hurt himself. “It would be my great pleasure,” he said. “And for my part, I give my word to keep your pace and not impose a moment’s delay. Now let us go and meet with Mag, for if my ears do not deceive me, I think she is having some sort of trouble with the innkeeper.”

I took Dryleaf’s arm and led him towards Mag. The old man had been correct. Mag was engaged in a heated argument with the innkeeper as we came up, though the innkeeper himself only met her angry words with a beatific smile, which he turned on me as I drew up to the bar.

Mag whirled on the two of us. “Ah, good,” she said. “Dryleaf. Help me convince this idiot that he does not know how to run a business.”

“Before I try, I would rather hear the details of the situation,” said Dryleaf diplomatically.

“Mag, what under the sky is going on?” I said.

“This man,” said Mag, thrusting a finger at the innkeeper’s face—the innkeeper’s vacant smile widened—“will not take my money.”

“No, I will not,” agreed the innkeeper, his massive mustache jumping as he sniffed.

“We stayed here for days, you ox!” cried Mag. “Take our money!”

Instead of answering, the innkeeper reached into a purse at his belt, produced two pennies, and laid them on the pile of coins that lay on the bar in front of him. The pile seemed somewhat larger than it should have been, considering the time we had spent in Lan Shui.

“And he will not stop doing that!” said Mag, sounding quite ready to throttle the man.

“No, I will not,” said the innkeeper, sounding absolutely delighted.

“Listen, friend,” I said. “No one appreciates your generosity more than we do. But you cannot survive on good deeds and well wishes alone. Take some of our coin.”

The innkeeper answered only with another two pennies laid on the pile.

“Stop telling him to take money,” growled Mag, who seemed to wish to ignore the fact that she had just done the same thing. “It only makes him give us more.”

“I think you should leave,” said Dryleaf. “It seems an untenable situation for the two of you, unless you wish to rob the poor man blind.”

The innkeeper nodded gaily, as though he had never heard truer words.

“But we are robbing him blind,” said Mag. “I used to own an inn myself, you know. And I am—well, in all honesty, I am insulted on his behalf.”

To my surprise, Dryleaf put his hands on his hips and scowled in Mag’s direction. “If you do not wish for people to give you gifts, to say nothing of praise, then I would cease your frankly ridiculous habit of running around and saving them from danger. Many people in the nine kingdoms see this as the only natural reaction to such a thing.”

“I did not come here to save anyone,” grumbled Mag, avoiding looking at either Dryleaf or the innkeeper. “And so be it, if they are too foolish to take my money—put them back.” She snatched the pile of silver away from the innkeeper, who had been reaching for another pair of pennies from his purse.

We beat a hasty retreat from the inn and out into the street, Mag scowling, Dryleaf chuckling mightily, and me trying to restrain myself from joining him. Mag was still trying to cram the coins into her purse several streets later—the innkeeper had given her quite a lot of them. But we both stopped short as we saw Liu standing there before us.

The boy was not alone. Next to him was the man who had taken him in when we had brought him back to Lan Shui. I had never learned his name. But beside them both sat Oku. The dog grinned up at us, tongue lolling from its mouth as it panted in the heat of the day.

“Liu,” said Mag, crouching at once to speak with him