Bastion

and Jakyr the one that let out on the common room. Jakyr gave Mags a commiserating pat on the back but said nothing. Mags sighed, but he didn’t object, in no small part because he could not imagine Jakyr and Lita actually sharing a bed without being able to somehow erect a wall between them. And even then . . . no.
    “You’ll like the steam bath,” was all Jakyr said, and he led the way to it.
    There were two steam baths actually. Jakyr took the first. The steam bath was exactly what it sounded like: a room filled with hot steam, with an unheated entrance room with a barrel in it and a drain in the floor. You stripped down and went and sat on wooden seats in the main room until you couldn’t stand the heat anymore. Then you left and washed down with cold water from a barrel, then you went back in again for another round. You did this as many times as you liked—Mags only managed twice, Bear called a halt at one, but Jakyr stayed for three—then you washed off a final time, got dressed, and went back out to the common room, feeling rather like a pleasant puddle of yourself. Lita and the girls presumably took the second room, since there was no sign of them until Mags went out to the common room again.
    When they were all sitting at a table in the common room, the innkeeper brought them supper: bread, a smoky barley and vegetable soup, baked leeks, and smoked meat of some sort. Mags couldn’t tell what animal it came from, only that it was so tender it fell apart, and the smoky flavor was delicious. Now he knew where the scent in the air came from; it appeared almost everything that was cooked here got at least a taste of the woodsmoke, and it was delicious. He had to wonder what their bacon was like.
    There was hot cider to drink—no spices, but there was a roasted crabapple floating in each mug that had been cooked in honey.
    As they were finishing their dinner, the locals started to arrive. It appeared that everyone who ordered food got the same thing that their group did, though there weren’t many of them. Mags immediately grasped the significance of the menu—smoked meat kept a good long time, and soup—well, you just kept adding to it, because as long as you kept it hot, it stayed wholesome. Nothing would be wasted, even if you got fewer customers than you had expected.
    Most of the locals ordered beer or cider and roasted nuts. They settled down in groups and talked among themselves, only surreptitiously glancing at the strangers in their midst. Lita and Jakyr similarly paid them no heed, so Mags followed their example.
    :It isn’t always like this. In fact, it isn’t mostly like this,: Dallen told him. :Usually people come up, want to know the latest news, share what’s going on locally. Even if you aren’t there on Circuit, Heralds are looked to as people who can solve problems. Evidently Jakyr was briefed on this, even though we weren’t. I can see how this sort of attitude would give a Herald some difficulty in doing his job.:
    Mags considered the people around him. :Well, these folks keep to themselves right close, I reckon. Seems like they make a virtue out of it, which ’splains why Cole Pieters could get away with what he did. Nobody was gonna get in his business unless he invited them to, and damn sure he wasn’t gonna invite ’em.:
    :That makes sense,: Dallen agreed, and then Lita caught Lena’s eye, and nodded to her. The two of them went to the rooms and came back with a small assortment of instruments: two gitterns, a flute, a hand drum, a small harp, and a fiddle. The two of them moved to stools on the hearth. Lita picked up the fiddle, Lena the drum, and they began.
    The locals might have been insular, but they weren’t deaf. Conversation ceased. Table tapping began.
    Here Lita showed the skill and the Gift that made her a Master Bard. Within moments, the locals had accepted her as if she was one of their own. It was without a doubt that she was the best musician they had ever heard in their lives, and Mags was certain they would be talking of this evening for years.
    She chose well. Even if people didn’t know these exact melodies, they knew something like them.
    A few lively tunes on the fiddle came first, then she and Lena switched to double gitterns, singing and playing in two-part harmony that had people listening with their mouths dropping open.
    Lita played the crowd like she played her instruments. At her direction they laughed and wept, listened intently or