The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

green-haired and seaweed-clothed water witch swung in the breeze, creaking on rusted hinges.
    “The Bay Hag Inn,” Maia said, sweeping a hand in the direction of the sign.
    Kinnsell peered closer for any indication of written words on the creaking slab of wood that swayed in the predawn breeze. Only the picture stared back at him. Maia had read the picture. Only magicians on this world had the knowledge to read words.
    A few listless stable hands groomed shabby, knock-kneed steeds. The cook yelled from the kitchen, something about evicting witch cats. Kinnsell couldn’t make out all of her words through her thick peasant accent. Guests sang a drunken ditty quite loudly in the common room, with total disregard for key and tone—or the hour.
    The stench of unwashed bodies, crowded horses, and stale chamber pots sent Kinnsell into a new coughing fit. He bent over, clutching his knees in an effort to remain on his feet.
    “You have to stop this, Master.” Maia rubbed his back solicitously. “The innkeeper won’t let you stay here if he thinks you carry the plague that ravages the interior provinces.”
    “I don’t have the bloody plague, Maia. Believe me, I’d know if I did.” A niggle of doubt tried to insert itself in his mind. He pushed it away. In these filthy conditions, disease must run rampant. But whatever felled the populace, they couldn’t have the same plague that decimated the civilized worlds. Local conditions wouldn’t support that plague. Anything else, he could cure with a few antibiotics once he reached his ship. Tomorrow. They’d walk there first thing in the morning.
    “Tomorrow we hire steeds to take us to your ship,” Maia continued. “They will travel much faster than walking.”
    “I’ll be damned if I bruise my backside on one of those beasts!” Kinnsell straightened from his coughing crouch. “If the inn can’t provide anything better than those nags, I’ll walk.” The energy of anger and insulted pride gave him the strength to walk into the inn.
    “I’ll do the asking, Master Kinnsell. The innkeeper will not refuse me.” Maia stepped in front of him as a paunchy, middle-aged man wearing a stained apron approached. He reeked of meat and stale ale.
    Kinnsell almost gagged. He had to remind himself that on bush worlds people had to eat meat to survive. The prejudice of civilized cultures against blood diets was only valid on civilized planets.
    Maia sidled up to the innkeeper. She draped herself around him, clutching his shoulder as she caressed his cheek with delicate fingertips.
    “A private room and a meal for the gentleman?” The innkeeper eyed Kinnsell briefly, then turned his attention back to Maia’s lips that hovered much too close to his own. “And for you, my lady, clean sheets and mulled wine in my cot.” He grabbed the Rover woman around the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her soundly.
    “But, but . . .” Kinnsell gasped. How could she pay for their bed and board by . . . by . . . She owed him—Kinnsell. He’d rescued her. She had no right to peddle her body to this filthy commoner.
    Kinnsell narrowed his eyes seeking a suitable revenge. He pushed his right hand forward striving to gain control of the situation and his emotions.
    “Do not worry, Master Kinnsell. I will join you later. When you are rested.” Maia smiled at him.
    Kinnsell relaxed his posture. Let them think him placated.
    She and the innkeeper ambled away, arms draped around each other familiarly, hands exploring bottoms and breasts already.
    “But . . . but . . .” Kinnsell continued protesting for their benefit. Frankly he was relieved he would not have to perform just yet. This nagging cough left him tired and weak-kneed.
    A very young blonde maid took his hand and led him up rickety stairs to the private room tucked under the steeply sloping eaves.
    “I’ll stay with you, Master,” she offered, staring at him with huge blue eyes.
    She couldn’t be more than fourteen, a child. Barbarians!
    He rammed his hand all the way forward. For once the gesture did nothing to help him.
    Kinnsell slammed the door in the girl’s face. The walls shook and the tiny shuttered window rattled from the force of his blow on the door panels. A mouse and loose straw dropped on his head from the thatch. He coughed again from the dust that filled his nose and mouth.

    Noon, the University of Magicians, Coronnan City
     
    Bessel and Mopplewogger slept until noon. They grabbed a handful of bacon