“She’s something, ain’t she?” Our server had returned as the notes faded from the last song. Her curly bangs flattened over her sweat-covered forehead. Even the feathers along her eyes drooped in fatigue. She’d served us well, refilling our beers as she took care of her tables. “You still want that room?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly before the offer was rescinded.

  The dining hall had begun to empty, families scurrying off as it was past their children’s bedtime. Others swarmed the stage. Some wanted autographs; others just wanted a word with the star. We sat at our table, still astonished by the person who was both Tandy and the complete opposite of our friend.

  Even her handling of fans was crazy. She exhibited none of her normal impatience, instead standing gracefully before the horde, answering their questions elegantly.

  “Alright, let’s get you settled.” The server broke through the post-concert spell. “You’d better not be trying anything with her.” She looked up at Tandy, adoration plain on her face.

  “Uh, no,” I stumbled, my face heated. “We’re old friends.”

  The server looked at us appraisingly. “Sure, you are. Best not be up to anything funny. Room or no,” she looked down at the coins I’d put on the table. “Good tipper or not, I’ll personally toss you out. Tandy’s a rare gem, and she’s been good for the Griffin.”

  The longer the show had gone on, the more confident I was that the bejeweled entertainer was in fact Tandy. She’d played a couple of variations on local Woodsten songs that we’d learned as kids, and a ditty about a bridge in London that her aunt Stacy had taught us.

  “No harm, it’s been a long couple of weeks though. Would love to get to that room.” Ash tried to protest, and I kicked him under the table. Something was wrong here. But I didn’t think our server was in on it, and I was positive a claw-first approach would not work. “My name’s Cole.”

  “Karla.” Coins slid off the table into her pouch. “If you’re ready, I can take you to your room right now. Don’t mess with the staff, though, this isn’t that type of place.” I wasn’t sure whether she was eyeing Meredeath or Briyain.

  I imagined the name of the tavern didn’t help its reputation.

  “Karla, no problem from us. My sister’s just gotten her unique…” Companion? Pet? “Fish, and she’s a bit obsessed. She likes things with fangs.” I gave her my best country-bumpkin smile.

  Ash poked Meredeath as he began scooting out of the booth. Her amulet flashed for a second, green eyes looking up as her Tully-inspired trance popped.

  “Is it time for bed?” Meredeath asked hopefully. Her voice was as exhausted as I felt.

  I think this, more than anything I could have said, convinced the server that we were legitimate. No one feigned the bone-weary exhaustion we all felt.

  We followed the server as she wove between sticky tables to the back of the dining hall. I gave Tandy a backward glance. A horde of adoring fans still surrounded my friend, it’d be at least an hour before she was done.

  “Coal? That’s a proper Cersapil name. You said you were from the Ursine Wall? A little Phriskian in your accent.” Karla seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t willing to trust her with our place of origin, even if it would help with the Tandy situation.

  “Yes, I’m from back East, but my mom was from Zin Phrisk.”

  “And where’d you get the slug?” She sounded suspicious, as though she couldn’t quite believe a party of Easterners had just wandered into Griffon’s Hunt.

  “Just a banana slug, pretty common in the Heltenic forests.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. A spoonful of truth always made the lie go down better.

  Karla didn’t give a backward glance at my answer, as she opened a thick wooden door into what I assumed was the inn portion of the establishment. The cavern dining room immediately gave way to a wood floor, and a hallway of plaster and lath. Hanging glow moss alcoves sat against the walls.

  I’d illuminated my apartment with the low-cost moss. Most in Woodsten, once they had the money, invested in magic glass candles. The candles had an off switch and a dimmer. However, you had to pay to recharge them every month. Moss, however, thrived on moisture and air, both of which I had in heaps.

  A pang of homesickness hit unexpectedly in the familiar soft light of the glow moss. Cersapil might be a grandiose image of wealth and western mentality, but this place was a slice of home.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Paintings and old tapestries of feathered griffins hung on the walls. Each looking proud and regal even while dulled with age. Woodsten didn’t have old tapestries, everything was new, made of the finest wool. We had images of the guardian bears with their belled hearts, and the long dead great wryms as they shared the sky with regal griffins.

  We didn’t have griffins in the Ursine Wall anymore, and as far as I knew, they didn’t have griffins here either. They were legends from a lost age, a sacrifice to a cataclysm.

  “Your room, 132,” Karla said, as we approached the door. She reached forward, unlatching it with the twist of a key. The dark wooden door swung inward with a groan, revealing a large room with two four-poster beds.

  “How much did you say the room cost?” Meredeath asked. I was thinking the same thing. The dresser and velvet chairs sat in a sitting room that adjoined the space. A small door led to what I assumed was our own bathroom. This was a luxury I couldn’t manage in Woodsten.

  “It’s one gold a night.”

  I almost choked on the air I was breathing.

  “A—“ gold? My mind reeled.

  “—Perfect!” Meredeath interjected. Flashing serrated teeth to anyone who might interrupt her moment of luxury. “Do we pay you now, or upon our departure?”

  I guess if they had limited space, their most expensive rooms were likely the only left. Still it felt like robbery.

  Karla gave Meredeath a relieved smile. “Do you know how many nights you’ll be staying? You can pay as you go upfront, but there’s a discount if you commit to a longer time frame.”

  “At least a couple, it depends on how quickly we find what we’re looking for in the city,” Meredeath said. Ash had edged around the two, and was about to fall onto the bed.

  “The establishment,” Karla called towards Ash. “Would just ask that you bathe before dirtying the bed.”

  Ash, looking guilty, gave her a smile. Meredeath counted out two nights’ worth of gold.

  “No problem, the bath in here?” Ash walked over towards the only door in our room. With Karla’s nod, the man ducked into the bathroom.

  The room had nine-foot white coffered ceilings that added to the room’s opulence. The plain plaster walls had given way to molding that mimicked the ceiling and highlighted grand tapestries of Cersapil.

  Meredeath had gone over to the mahogany wardrobe and pulled the twisted basket handle. The door smoothly opened, revealing an empty hanger rack and an assortment of towels, soaps and perfumes.

  “Your room includes laundry service. Just use one of those sacks, and we’ll take care of it.” The server stood implacably, waiting for our dismissal. She acted as though this level of service was normal fare at any inn. Realization dawned on me. Perhaps it was for a gold a night. This was probably the best room in the place.

  It made sense, in a way. If they had limited space, their most expensive rooms were likely the only left. Thank the Everbear, for once in our lives, we had a bit of gold on us.

  “Your room includes breakfast, but other meals are on you. I will act as your concierge point, so please let me know if you have questions or needs.”

  It was time to lean into the illusion our wealth provided.

  “I was hoping to meet The Entertainer. As I said before, we’re old friends. We’re here on business with the Adventurers Guild, but would love to see her in a more intimate setting.” The Tandy I knew would have stopped the performance as soon as she saw us in the dining hall. Of course, the Tandy that I knew would never have been on a stage.

  “I’ll see what I can arrange.” Karla didn’t sound very promising. Her eye feathers turned down as she looked at us suspiciously. I couldn’t tell if she was just highly protective of Tandy, or mistrustful of us. “If that is all, I will let you rest.”

  I waved her off. The tired server gave a grateful smile and backed out of our room. She shut the door lightly, and the lock gave a quiet click.

  Turning back to the room, I took stock. Meredeath had found a silver tray on the dresser to put Briyain’s bowl on. I could hear the faint gurgle of water from the bathroom.

  “What do you think, Richard?” The slug on my shoulders didn’t respond. “Richard?” I walked over to the silver dressing mirror in the corner.

  Richard was asleep, his bloated belly full, and his normally yellow skin had an orange hue.

  I rifled through my pack, pulling out his damp blanket. Grabbing a spare pillow, I set him up with a little bed next to Briyain on the dresser.

  Smiling at his imagined indignation in the morning, I turned back to Meredeath.

  “What do you think, Meredeath?” I was going to have to wait until Ash was done before I gave in to the bone-deep fatigue.

  She’d pulled out the laundry bag and had been working on filling it. Her green eyes, for once, didn’t have the glint of magic. Briyain seemed to be asleep as well.

  “I think we’ve finally caught a break. A chance to rest,” she said, exhaustion coating her voice. The bath was running in the adjoining room.

  But Tandy? I wanted to say, but I was tired. Bath or no bath, my body yearned for one of the fluffy-looking beds, even if I had to share it with Ash.

  Nodding, I sat down and pulled out my laundry. We had one of the two available laundry sacks full in no time.

  “I assume we set this outside the door?” I lifted the now-heavy bag. We’d opted to clean our bedrolls too. I couldn’t remember the last time that’d happened.

  Meredeath shrugged.

  I moved to the door, reaching for the glass knob shaped like a cut gemstone. I twisted the handle, to no avail. Frowning, I pushed, then tugged.

  The door didn’t budge.

  Ash had walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy cream-colored towel.

  “Did she give either of you a key?” I examined the brass plate behind the doorknob. An embossed griffin stared back at me, a feather swiveling to the side to reveal an ornate-looking keyhole.

  Looking back at my companions, it was easy to spot the truth.

  We were trapped.

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