skull_bearer | Est_20, Prompt 13- Questions (Reply)

TITLE: Never To Be Forgotten Hospitability, Part one of three
AUTHOR: Skull Bearer
FANDOM: Dragonlance
PAIRING: Raistlin/Dalamar
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: Here
PROMPT: 13- Questions
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 2158
SUMMARY: Some places pose more questions than they answer.
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: No comment.

It was a horrible, wet, rainy day, but Raistlin had to admit it could have been worse. Thought it was winter, they were so far north it wasn't too cold, and for once he and Dalamar had not only been able to afford properly oiled cloaks, but also mounts.

Nevertheless; after shifting his cloak for what seemed like the hundredth time, trying to keep himself as dry as possible, Raistlin really wouldn't have minded if some form of shelter emerged at some point. Anytime soon would have been nice. The rain seemed to be determined to blast straight into his face whatever way he turned, and night was falling. While it might not be cold now, the idea of spending the night out here was unbelievably dismal.

And it looked as though they'd have to. Raistlin had checked and re-checked the map; each time hoping the nearest village would miraculous move to within a few minutes' trot, rather than three days away. Short of taking out his quill and on the map himself, Raistlin didn't think they'd have any luck there.

He put the map away with a sigh. There were trees, but even this far north they had lost their leaves and wouldn't offer much in the line of shelter. It was ironic that they would probably have been better of in the cold south, where there were evergreens to take shelter under, than here.

He turned to Dalamar; the elf was hunched on his own horse, hood drawn low over his face to cut out the rain. "Dalamar."

The slick black hood twitched, revealing a sliver of face and eyes as grey as the clouds.

Raistlin pulled his horse over until they were riding side-by-side, "I think we should be trying to find somewhere to sleep tonight."

Dalamar smiled tiredly, "There, Raistlin, I think we are out of luck." He lifted his head and squinted through the rain, then shook his head, even his eyes couldn't pick out anywhere habitable.

"Perhaps, if you see some trees with low branches, we could fix up a shelter."

It wouldn't be hard, they could use their cloaks as a roof, Dalamar grimaced, it might be easy, but it certainly wasn't appealing. It would mean spending the night up to their ankles in mud, and while the horses didn't mind, they did.

"I'll see what I can find." He really didn't sound enthusiastic. "Would you care if we rode a little further? We might have more luck."

Despite the suspicion that they wouldn't have any more luck there than they'd had for the past twenty miles, Raistlin shrugged. He was tired, and more than a little saddle-sore, but they would have to stop soon anyway. The darkness was now no longer due to the low clouds.

All the same, they kept riding until Raistlin could barely see the road ahead. Finally, when he felt the familiar prickle that told him that somewhere above the clouds, Lunitari had risen, Raistlin decided enough was enough. The rain wasn't going to die off, and an inn wasn't going to miraculously appear just because they wanted it.

"Dalamar." He said firmly, fully intending to order the elf to find the best shelter here and set up camp, miserable as it might be.

It was hard to see, but Raistlin thought he saw Dalamar sit up a little straighter. He raised a hand. "Wait."

Raistlin frowned, "What is it?"

Please not another hobgoblin ambush. They'd had two in the last fortnight, and while neither had been hard to scare off, it was the last thing he wanted right now.

Dalamar shielded his eyes and stared out into the darkening rain, "Look over there, what can you see?"

Raistlin rolled his eyes before joining the Dark elf squinting through the downpour. What was Dalamar expecting him to see that he couldn't see for himself, or did the elf think his curse also applied to raindrops?

But yet...

There was something out there, a warm, yellow pinprick of light in the distance, further along the road. It looked for the entire world like the glow of firelight.

Raistlin blinked and the two of them exchanged looks, if there was a fire, it couldn't be outside, not in this weather. "There were no houses on the map." He said uncertainly.

Dalamar shrugged, and smiled, "Maps can be wrong." He spurred his horse on. "How old is it anyway? This could be a new settlement."

"Quite new." Raistlin pulled the bedraggled map out again and frowned at it. No. There was absolutely nothing there. It wasn't such an old map either. Not more than a few years old.

Bah, it was probably a farmhouse; the mapmakers wouldn't have bothered marking that down; all that mattered was that he and Dalamar would be sleeping under a roof tonight.

The light had seemed far away, but that was probably only due to the weather, as they drew closer, it was joined by more, scattered though the branches of the trees, on both sides of the road, and more importantly, above it. An inn.

It was Dalamar's turn to look back at Raistlin and frown. "Are you sure there was nothing marked here?"

"Absolutely certain." Raistlin glanced down again. Unless their mounts had suddenly decided to show magical powers, there was no possible way this could be the hamlet they were aiming for. And this seemed much too big for a hamlet. Raistlin could make out the shapes of good-sized houses, as well as the inn. Their horses' hooves suddenly clicked loudly as they met, not the muddy path, but rather a gravelled road.

Raistlin and Dalamar exchanged uneasy glances. "Perhaps this is a new village?" Raistlin hesitated. As far as he could see the land was good, so it wasn't out of the question.

Dalamar looked around as they pass the first of the houses. "I don't think so. These houses look too old for that."

He was right; they were old, old enough to have survived the Cataclysm. Stone houses with wooden window frames and slate roofs, and even glass in the windows. One was so overgrown with ivy the stone was barely visible, that would have taken generations, not merely a few years.

Dalamar shrugged again, more stiffly this time. The rain was still coming down hard, and whatever this place was, it was real enough to spend the night in. Raistlin nodded; probably the mapmaker had made a mistake. There were a hundred such villages lost in the Southern Wastes; it shouldn't be surprising they'd missed a couple.

Raistlin just hoped they'd have enough money, places like this tended to be superstitious and not too happy at the idea of letting two mages sleep under their roof. That there was an inn was lucky, they'd be less likely to be turned away outright, but they could expect grossly inflated prices. Raistlin braced himself for a haggling match.

The inn was a handsome, two story building near the centre of the village, unlike the other houses, it was built of reddish brick that reminded Raistlin of the houses in Haven. With firelight glittering on the many window panes, oak-scented smoke billowing from its chimney and the delicious smell of a roast exhaling through the open door, even the horses picked up their paces, ears flicking forward in anticipation of a warm stable.

The inn had a small, cobbled courtyard, and the moment the horses' hooves rang on it, a small girl raced out from a wooden outbuilding- probably the stables- to take their reins. Oddly, although she gave Dalamar a second glance, she didn't flinch or pull away. "How long will you be staying, Masters?"

Dalamar blinked, and again glanced at Raistlin, slight perturbed. "This evening definitely, longer if this rain doesn't stop."

The girl nodded. "I will have them ready by morning, Masters, if you need them sooner, please tell Youngil, and he'll tell me."

Dalamar nodded slowly, and climbed down from his horse. Raistlin followed, no less confused at the girl apparent fearlessness, and the strange use of the old address. /Masters/. Who now still called magic users Master?

His musings were interrupted by the innkeeper, who would have been round, florid with a moustache that Sturm would have envied had Raistlin been able to see him properly. "Ah, customers! Welcome, welcome. I am Youngil, and I cannot tell you how glad I am to be having customers at this hour! I thought I would be having to close early! And where would we be then? Come in, come in."

Raistlin was so stunned he barely had time to unhitch his backpack, and Dalamar would have forgotten his entirely had the stable-maid not reminded him. He snatched them down and clutched them against his chest like a talisman as the innkeeper all but threw them inside.

The inside of the inn was just as warm and comfortable as they'd hoped, with not just one fire but two, one at each end of the room. Raistlin peeled off his sodden cloak with a sigh of relief, and was quite surprised when it was whisked from his hands to be hung by the fire, quickly joined by Dalamar's.

"You will be wanting food, I think." Youngil hurried behind the bar and pulled out a wooden board, on which was presumable written the menu. "Unless you wish to be going to your rooms now? It is late, I know, and mages be needed to study. We can have food taken up."

"No, that's fine." Dalamar gasped, shooting Raistlin another look. The man was obviously mad, the look said. Raistlin nodded slightly, then looked away. The man wasn't acting mad at all, it was nothing that he hadn't seen Otik do, and the man's inn was indeed empty. It was just that this was the first time he had seen anyone, even Otik, being this accommodating to a magic-user. It was a shock.

"Then please, sit, sit." He waved them to a booth and put the menu on the table.

Dalamar picked it up gingerly, as though expecting it to grow teeth and bite him. Raistlin couldn't help it; he covered his mouth just in time to stop the laughter breaking out. His ribs ached from the strain, and he had just gotten himself back under control when he felt his chest tighten for a completely different reason. Oh no.

The only thing Raistlin was grateful for was that this had happened here and not on the road. In the warmth and comfort of the inn, it was bad enough, and still he had to cover his mouth with his sleeve to stop the blood dripping on the table. On the road, in the mud and rain, it would have been unbearable.

When he opened his eyes, he consoled himself that at least the look on the innkeeper's face was normal. Fear and the careful edging away. "He is not ill, I hope? Because now, and here, it is not good, not allowed, you understand."

"I am not ill." Raistlin croaked wearily. "It is not contagious, and cannot be caught or cured." He swallowed painfully. "I need hot water." He narrowed his eyes.

The man blinked, and looked at once abashed and a little hurt. "Of course, Master," He said stiffly, and hurried off behind the bar.

For once, Raistlin was feeling a little abashed him. It was one of the first time anyone had actually treated them decently, and the man's question, while predictable, was understandable. Plague was not something anyone wanted. So when the innkeeper returned with a mug of steaming water and a glass of wine for Dalamar, he thanked him.

It was the first time since the rain started that he'd been able to drink his tea warm, and it was a blessed relief. After briefly consulting the rather limited menu, they ordered, and Raistlin slid five steel pieces over to the man. It was the usual price of room and board, and while it normally was much higher for them, Raistlin had a feeling the man would not inflate the price.

Youngil frowned at the coins. "What are these?" He picked one up and his eyebrows went up. "Steel! Well, well."

It was the middle of nowhere, Raistlin supposed most people paid by barter. "If there is a problem-"

"No, no. All very well. I have never seen these before." He slid one into his pocket and walked off, leaving Raistlin blinking at the four coins left on the table.

Dalamar raised his eyebrows and lifted his glass; Raistlin did the same with his mug. Whatever this place was, he certainly wasn't about to complain.