Sweep in Peace (Innkeeper Chronicles 2)

I got my boots out of the closet, put them on, and buckled a belt with a knife on it around my waist under my robe. Baha-char was the place where you went to find things. Sometimes things found you instead and tried to take your money. On the inn grounds, I ruled supreme. Outside of it, my powers dropped off sharply. I could still take care of myself, but it never hurt to expect the worst and be prepared.

Beast barked once, excited. I took my broom, pulled the hood of my robe over my head, and headed down the hallway. The inn creaked in alarm.

“I’ll be back soon,” I murmured. “Don’t worry.”

The door at the end of the hallway swung open. Bright light spilled through the rectangular opening and dry, overbearing heat washed over me. I blinked, as my eyes adjusted to the light, and stepped into the heat and sunshine of Baha-char.

I strode through the heat-baked streets of Baha-char, the hem of my robe sweeping the large yellow tiles of its roads. Around me the marketplace of the Galaxy breathed and glittered, its heart beating fast, pulsing with life. Tall buildings of pale sand-colored stone lined the streets, decorated with bright banners streaming from its balconies. Plants, some green, some blue, others red and magenta, spread their branches on the textured terraces, offering cascades of flowers to the sun in the light purple sky. Above me narrow stone arches of bridges spanned the space between the buildings. Merchant booths offering a bounty of goods from across the universe lined the through-way. Open doors marked by bright signs invited customers. Barkers hawked their wares, waving holographic projections of their merchandise at the crowd flowing past them.

Around me the bright, multicolored crocodile of shoppers crawled through the streets. Beings from dozens of planets and dimensions, clothed in leather, fabric, metal or plastic, tall and short, huge and small, each with their own odd scent, made their way searching for their particular goods. A constant hum hung in the air, a cacophony of hundreds of voices mixing together into the kind of noise that could only be heard at Baha-char.

The last time I had come here, Sean was with me. I didn’t even know if he was dead or alive. It was so fun to watch him here. He had travelled while in the military and he thought he was worldly, then I opened the door to the sun-drenched streets and Sean turned into a child entering Disneyworld for the first time. Everything was new, strange, and wondrous.

Six months and no word. Either I imagined things and he wasn’t at all interested or something happened to him. Thinking about Sean being dead somewhere out there, among the stars, made me angry. First my parents vanish. Now Sean was gone.

I caught myself. Yes, clearly this was all about me. Not exactly my proudest moment. As soon as I straightened out the chef situation, I needed to go back to bed before the lack of sleep made me weepy.

Ahead the traffic slowed. I stood on my toes and glanced over the spindly shoulder of some insectoid being. A creature that resembled a Penske truck-sized maggot slowly crawled up the street. It was wearing a plastic harness along its back. Bright burgundy and gold umbrellas protruded from the harness at even intervals, shielding its wrinkled pallid flesh from the sun. Several shopping bags hung from the hooks on the sides of the harness. One of the bags had Hello Kitty on it.

We were moving about half a mile an hour. I sighed and looked around. I’d been coming to Baha-char since I was a child and most of the time I walked through on autopilot.

A familiar dark archway loomed to the right. I strained and heard a quiet, haunting melody playing. I stopped.

That shop belonged to Wilmos Gervar, an old werewolf. Last time we were at Baha-char, Sean had stopped here. Wilmos had a nano-armor on display, made especially for the alpha strain werewolves such as Sean. Sean saw the armor and became obsessed with it, as if it had called to him. Wilmos offered him a deal: he would give Sean the armor, but Sean would owe him a favor. I thought it was a terrible idea and told him so, but Sean took the armor, and once we’ve dealt with assassin threatening the inn, he went to Baha-char to replay the favor. That was the last time I saw him.

If anybody knew where Sean was, it would be Wilmos.

People bumped me. The crowd was moving and the current of beings tried to carry me with it. To go in or to not go in? What if Sean was in there, drinking tea from Auul, his now shattered planet? That would be really awkward. Hi, remember me? I threw you out of my house because you were an ass and you kissed me? He left for a reason. I didn’t want to be anyone’s blast from the past.

Not knowing was worse than any potential awkwardness. I cut through the crowd and stepped through the arch. A meticulously arranged shop greeted me. Weapons with wicked curved blades hung on the walls. Knives lay displayed under glass. Strange armor on the mannequins lined up like soldiers at a ceremony next to high-tech guns in metal racks. A large animal padded into view, its paws bigger than my hands. Blue green, with a shaggy mane and ears that reached to my chest, it moved like predator. Despite the size, there was something lupine about its build. He felt like a wolf, and if you saw him on Earth, you’d think he was the spirit of all wolves come to life.

“Hello, Gorvar,” I said.

At my feet Beast opened its mouth and growled low.

“Who is it?” A man walked in from the other room. Tall, grizzled and still fit, he moved like Sean, with the natural easy grace. His greying hair fell to his shoulders, and as his eyes caught the light from the doorway, pale gold rolled over his irises.

“Hello, Wilmos.” I smiled.

“Ah yes, Dina, right?”

“Right.”