Chapter 23.2: Shining Inn, Room Eight
The Shining Inn wasn’t far off. Before leaving Divinity’s Reach on their journey, Minkus had made the inn his home, and he knew precisely what kind of welcome to expect from Gill, the innkeeper. Even with Penny's current condition, Minkus knew the man would retain his kindness and hospitality. Minkus had seen the man deal with guests in much worse condition than Penny.
As they walked toward their new destination, Minkus returned his attention to Penny. She didn't have much to say at the moment, the vomiting had stopped, and her steps were noticeably straighter, but as she seemed to be both drunk and hungover at the same time, every movement was a relatively slow endeavor, with her hands constantly moving between a hold on her head and a hold on her stomach. For every several yards of quick progress, they'd have to slow to calm Penny's uneasy stomach or aching skull, sit for a moment on a step, and insult an unwelcome onlooker before moving on. So, perhaps Minkus had seen Gill handle guests in precisely as bad a condition as Penny after all. Still, he knew what to expect.
He continued helping his friend along for the better part of an hour, when at last they reached the inn, passing through the large, glass-inlaid double doors and into the entryway, which doubled as a public sitting room for guests. Minkus had spent several evenings in that space, and while Master Gill was very hospitable on every occasion, even Minkus couldn't escape the truth that the man was not a decorator. Burgundy velvet pillows decorated a slew of burnt orange and dark teal couches and chairs, each of which had been gilded at the edges in something like gold. Mirrors appeared everywhere art probably should have, and in the middle of it all bubbled a far-too-big fountain carved of black granite and polished to a reflective shine. The rooms were of a similar aesthetic.
“Well, if it isn't Mr. Large,” a man announced as they entered. Minkus spun to find none other than than the innkeeper smiling at him broadly from a desk at the edge of the sitting room. “Back from your grand adventure so soon?” the man asked. “And with a friend, I see.” Penny shot him a look to curdle milk, and just as quickly she gagged on something in her throat. Gill eyed her suspiciously but maintained his welcoming air.
“This is my friend, Penny,” Minkus said. “We could use a room for the night, if you have one.”
Broad-shouldered, broader bellied, and as bald as they came, Gill nodded. “Yes, your machinist friend.” He shook the concern away, and a smile graced his thin lips again. “For you, Mr. Large, I always have a room.
“Patty!” he called over his shoulder. Across the room a slender girl lifted her head. “Is room eight free?”
“Aye, Master Gill,” she nodded.
“Excelsior. Would you please help our guests there?” He swung back to Minkus. “Was that right, Mr. Large? I've been trying to use the word with my asura clients since you left. It still feels funny on my lips, but I like it.”
Minkus grinned a little as the girl came to gather their things. “Yes, it was perfect, Master Gill.”
Hands to hips, the man beamed, exclaiming the word again, “Excelsior!” Minkus smiled all the more.
Patty took Minkus’ pack and Penny’s coat from their grasps, extending the coat away from herself almost instantly as she also reached for the smartpack still on Minkus’ back.
“Oh, no,” he said, taking half a step out of her reach. Even after the invention had weathered so many days of hard travel, Penny hated letting anyone else handle it, and Minkus knew that. “I— you’re very kind, but— well, I’ll just hang on to this.” The girl gestured something like a curtsy, despite the luggage in her hands, and she began toward the stairs at the back of the room.
“Costs are as usual, Mr. Large, and we’ll have someone around to collect in the morning,” the bald innkeeper said. “Just follow Patty, and enjoy your stay!”
Minkus thanked the man, and putting a guiding hand to Penny’s back, he followed the girl.
Up a flight of steps and around a corner at the end of a lengthy hall, they reached the door of their room. Letting down Minkus’ pack, Patty inserted a key and swung the door open, ushering the guests in before entering herself. With a brevity trained by experience, she pointed out all the accommodations of the room, found a hook for the coat, and excused herself. As she closed the door, Minkus lowered Penny’s smartpack to the floor and finally found relief from the load. At the same time, Penny flopped backwards onto one of the beds, gagging again but thankfully still producing nothing.
There’d been no discussion of who would sleep where. In fact, Minkus realized, there had really been no discussion on any kind regarding his plan for their stay. That was highly unlike Penny. Looking at her, curled up and seeming to hold everything that hurt at once, he spoke quietly. “Is there anything I can—”
“You can stop yelling,” she moaned, moving a hand over her visible ear.
“Oh yes,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. I—”
“Minkus, just stop.”
She couldn’t see him, but he nodded, resigning himself to simply letting his regenerative power continue flowing out of him and into her. It was certainly making a difference, even though, at the moment, that difference seemed to cause all the negative after-effects of drinking to hit Penny faster and more abruptly. If she’d known he was responsible for her rapid and painful healing, she might have told him to stop. As it was, though, she had no idea and was thus unable to stop him. In some generally unexplored corner of Minkus’ mind, he found that a pleasant thought. He grinned, listening to a steady stream of whispered curses until Penny finally passed out. On tiptoes he approached and gently spread one thin, woolen blanket over her.
Stepping back, he took a deep breath and almost gagged. Frowning, Minkus sniffed more gently, finding a tinge on the air that stunk of rancid molasses and week-old bile. He leaned toward Penny. Yes, she still smelled, but she wasn’t the worst of it. No, the heaviest scents came from— his head snapped toward the hook on the wall. He stepped closer. It was the coat. He covered his nose just to get nearer. He didn’t know how he’d missed it before, but it was by far the worst of her belongings.
For a moment, he stood scowling. Somehow he would have to clean it if he and it were to stay in the same room. Master Gill came to mind. If anyone would know a good launderer in town, it would be him. Minkus nodded.
Bracing himself and lifting the long coat off the wall, he folded it over his free hand and made for the door, suddenly feeling very badly for the girl who’d had to carry the thing all the way to their room. It was damp. He held it as far from himself as his arm would allow, reaching for the doorknob with the other hand.
Slipping out and quietly closing the door behind him, he made his way through the hall and down the stairs, finding Master Gill in the common room below. As Minkus expected, Gill knew exactly who to call on to clean up a filthy coat, but he insisted on taking it himself. The man, Minkus was reminded, truly made an art of hospitality.
After only a minute, Minkus was back in their room once more, and stepping through the doorway, he sighed. The sight of his human friend fast and fitfully asleep was not one he would have chosen, and his mind wandered toward the choices that might have led her here.
That thought, however, was cut short when he recognized something crinkle beneath his foot. He bent down to find a piece of paper, balled up, and now partially flattened by his boot. Curious, he took and uncrumpled it, finding it had been ripped in two and balled back together. He looked at the now unfolded section.
Miss Arkayd,
I am quite excited to be establishing a working relationship with you. Our mutual friend assured me you would be cooperative, and if you’re reading this missive, cooperative you have most certainly been. We appreciate that.
I would prefer to welcome you back to your establishment in person: the very moment you return, in fact. However, as it is all but impossible to calculate when, precisely you might be…
Minkus stopped reading. He unfolded the second piece of the note and looked at it for only a moment before pressing both it and the first between his hands to flatten them back to something like what their original shape must have been. He paused to look at Penny, who now lay with both legs dangling off the mattress and her face pressed into the corner of the wall. Gently he laid both portions of the note on the small cabinet beside the door, ensuring the unread one lay beneath the other, still unseen. He reasoned that perhaps, as he hadn't noticed it on his way into the room the first time, this note had fallen out of Penny's coat when he had handled it. Regardless, though, the note was clearly addressed to Penny, making it her business, not his. He stepped away and sat himself atop the free bed, still gazing at the two wrinkled sheets of torn paper that sat on that cabinet not far away.
Minkus shooed away the thought of almost anything that note could mean. The woman had many business associates, some of whom he’d met during his stay in the city. It was good that even after such a time away, she maintained those relationships. Yes, he thought with a halfhearted nod, it’s good.
He sighed, suddenly feeling his own exhaustion, and let his head fall forward into his chest, but the tap of his chin on the chestplate reminded him he was still wearing armor. He stood and began to unclasp each piece, stripping them off one after the next and setting them quietly to the floorboards.
With a yawn, he climbed atop the bed once more and patted a pillow into place against the wall, where he could sit and rest as he continued to passively heal his sleeping friend. It was only mid-afternoon, and the curtains could block little in the way of light and sound from the Commons outside, but with all that had happened in the last several hours, he already felt as though he could sleep for days.
