Bob The Innkeeper

"Robert, wait up. I"ll walk with you."

Groaning inwardly, he tried to think of a reason not to return to the bar with his father. If his father saw him at the bar, when they returned, he would want an explanation, and Bob didn"t want to have to explain anything. Knowing his father, he would want to take advantage of his abilities and Bob didn"t want to have to deal with that.

"I heard about the bathhouse that was built across the road from your inn. It too, had to be magic. Do you know who did it?" he asked as he caught up with Bob.

"I have my suspicions, but I don"t know for sure," said Bob, trying to be truthful.

"Well, if you could find out, I would love to meet the person, and maybe ask a few favors," laughed his dad.

"Honestly, anyone capable of building an entire bathhouse, with magic to produce, warm and get rid of the needed water, seems a bit too powerful to ask a few favors of, myself," said Bob, still wracking his brain for an excuse to escape his dad.

"I suppose you"re right."

"I don"t guess you"ve had a chance to talk to a cleric about having Stewart and Edith raised, have you? The one in the temple next to me has her hands full with a bunch of orphans given to her."

His father"s good mood soured almost immediately and Bob wished he hadn"t mentioned them.

"I have, and I think I"m going to have your mother raised, tomorrow. Would you like to be there?"

Bob stopped in his tracks and looked at his father, who was busy looking down the street at the crowds of people who were oblivious to anything but the festival.

"Is that why you wanted to walk with me?"

"I had to get the funds together to be able to pay the cleric. The king rewarded me for discovering the culprit was actually Lily instead of Clark, but I had to sell the land where my stores had been to get enough. I have your half of the reward to give you as well, but I was going to wait to give that to you tomorrow. I"m not going to be able to afford Edith and Stewart, but I think it will be okay."

His father still hadn"t turned to meet his eyes, and Bob knew how hard it must be for his father to have made this decision. He had sold the land where his stores had been to be able to afford to bring her back.

"She can only be brought back if she wants to come," said Bob softly.

Tears collected in his father"s eyes, but he still didn"t look at Bob.

"I know," he whispered.

"I have business I need to attend to, before returning to the bar. Are you going to be alright?" asked Bob, turning to head back towards the festival.

"I think I might enjoy the festival a bit before returning myself," Hector said.

Bob nodded and quickly left the awkward situation, not sure what to do with the b.u.t.terflies swirling in his stomach. The thought of his mom coming back was overwhelming. Would she be alright with him running an inn? It hadn"t been very long since she had died, less than a year!

Turning towards the blacksmith"s he spied a lone figure hunched over a bottle, half asleep.

"Orson?" called Bob, before he got to the large man.

The blacksmith jumped to his feet, waving back and forth, and finally propped himself up against his anvil.

"Master Bob," he slurred, "I have your ring finished. Would you like it now?"

"I would love to get it. How much do I owe you?"

The man waved his hand in the air as if he wasn"t sure, and stumbled over to the shelf on the side of the small room. Pulling a box off the top shelf, he made his way back and set it down. Inside, the box was filled with small chunks of ore. Bob dug down and found a cloth wrapped ring near the bottom. Taking it out, he handed the box back to Orson who set it on the anvil and sat back down.

Pulling the ring out from the cloth, Bob held it up in the light from the streets to admire the tiny figures twining around the band.

"It"s beautiful," he breathed in amazement. To think Orson had made this by hand was astounding.

"That"s probably worth a couple thousand gold, because some mage came by earlier and made it magical. She said it would come in handy when you got it."

Orson was starting to sober up, so he grabbed his bottle of wine and chuckling to himself as he shook his head in disbelief, took a hefty swig.

"Orson, did something happen?" asked Bob, already knowing the answer.

"My wife left me last night. Said she was tired of living with someone who didn"t make money. Wouldn"t listen to me either."

"Wasn"t she pregnant, too?" asked Bob.

"It was our first," he whispered, staring off into the distance.

"She"ll come back when she hears you"ve made so much money with this," said Bob pulling out a pouch and handing it to him.

Orson stared at it for a moment, then lunged to his feet, slamming the bottle down on the table, and rushing out onto the streets. Bob wondered if he needed to follow the man, to keep him from being mugged, and chuckled at the thought. Slipping the glowing ring onto his finger, he examined it, and saw that it negated the need to eat or drink. He really needed to ask Alastair what she wanted.

Stepping back into the deep shadows of the forge, Bob allowed himself to fade and opened his eyes to find himself back at the bar. The cloak he had been wearing slowing appeared on the hook, so no one would notice it, and the ring appeared as he slipped his hand out of sight below the bar counter.

"Did she say it would be alright?" he asked the man who had been telling him a story about trying to catch a rare bird for some n.o.ble man.

"She didn"t like me going into the attic, but when I explained it was for a little girl, she relented. Turned out that her attic held a ghost that I had to fight. Terrible, but the blasted bird seemed to be attracted to trouble!"

"Another gla.s.s?" asked Bob, knowing the man was too far gone to say no, and decided this would be the last one.

It was almost midnight before his father turned up, half drunk from the free ale at the festival, trying to figure out how to get to the upstairs rooms. Sam had taken the stairs in the store out, and rebuilt the upstairs to allow a few private rooms for some of his employees.

Trudy intercepted him and took him upstairs, so Bob didn"t have to leave the bar. Despite the late hour, business was still thriving because of the festival. It was almost four in the morning before the crowds finally died down. Sending the last of his people to bed, Bob began cleaning up, finally finishing before dawn.

"Excuse me, are you open?" asked a woman stepping into the inn and looking around. Her clothing was somewhat tattered, but she looked more like an adventurer than a poor person.

"I am. How may I help you?" he asked, turning a smile at her. A tall man stepped in behind her, not wearing tattered clothes, but looking the role of adventurer as well.

"We were hoping for a room?"

"Of course. Room three is available," Bob said, handing them a key and taking their money. Watching them climb the stairs he couldn"t help but smile as he admired their beautiful wings. It wouldn"t be the first time angels visited his bar, he was sure. He just wondered if they would leave any feathers in the bed? Did angels even need to sleep? And why did the girl have dark wings while the man had white ones? So many questions! He returned to his bar and taking a breath, opened his mind to find the answers.

She had committed some crime and needed to pay it back, then her wings would return to white. Bob found the information fascinating and checked on the kitchens. Everything was ready for Liam and Cookie to start cooking for the day, and it wouldn"t be long before Charlie moved into his own butcher shop.

Returning to the bar, Bob wondered how long it would be before Benjie proposed. It was obvious to everyone he was smitten with Cookie. He wondered if Benjie would go with his dad to the new shop, or choose to stay here with Cookie? He should talk to him when he got up to make sure he knew it was okay if he went with his dad to work at the butcher shop, and still slept here with her. Maybe Bob should think about getting some houses built for his workers to live closer? He liked the idea of having more rooms in the inn, and of his workers getting their own places.