Reluctant Host Read online

  Credits and Cover Art

  The cover art is a commissioned piece by the exceedingly talented Lauren Wilson. You can find more of Lauren’s stunning artwork at: https://lauren_wilson.artstation.com/. It was while reviewing possible artists for My Soul to Win that I saw Lauren’s page. I was struck by her pieces, Flowers and Moth Queen, and said, “Moth Queen could be Ayidil.” If she’s willing, you’ll see more of her art gracing future covers.

  I want to thank my beta readers for this book. Without them, you would find no end of typographical errors and the occasional glaring plot hole. Thank you so much.

  Reluctant Host

  I first noticed the four women in the market. I’d never seen anyone like them. They were each dressed in colorful, shapely dresses that hugged their bodies while opening for their legs so they could stride with confidence. The colors and shapes varied. One of the women had both shoulders entirely bare. Another’s dress covered her right shoulder but exposed her entire left shoulder. The third and fourth both had sleeves, but with one, the sleeves themselves were open, exposing the woman’s arms, and the sleeves of the other were thin and hid nothing. On their feet, they wore sandals.

  But it wasn’t their unusual attire that was most striking. No, not at all. Their skin was the color of coal, absolutely black. I’d seen skin from my own light, but heavily-freckled appearance to a dusty brown, but these four women were absolutely black, and I’d never seen anyone like them.

  Their hair was long, at least as long as mine, but they wore it braided, two braids that began over their eyes and followed along the crown of their heads, becoming a long, thick plait. But even that varied from one to the other, with one woman wearing hers straight down the center of her back, two others had her plait offset to the left or right, and the last had woven colorful ribbons into her hair. Straight, black hair was common, far more common than my curly red, but I’d never seen anyone wear her hair quite like these four women did. Oh, braided hair was common, but it was the style of the braids that were different.

  I decided I liked it.

  I wondered where they were from.

  While doing my own shopping, I watched them. I didn’t see them buy anything. Instead, they roamed the market, going from booth to shop to stand. I tried to focus on my shopping, but whenever I caught a glimpse of them, I stopped and stared.

  And then they caught me at it. One of them looked straight at me, then she nudged the others, and they all turned to look across the market at me. Embarrassed at being caught staring, I turned away and tried to put the unusual women out of mind.

  It was perhaps five minutes later that I was reminded of them.

  Surprising me, they suddenly appeared, the four of them, and they surrounded me. I froze, then straightened. I had my assigned purchases in a heavy bag slung over one shoulder, but I looked into the eyes of the woman most directly in front of me. She was the one with one shoulder exposed and the ribbons woven into her hair. This close, she was even more striking than at a distance. I smiled. “The four of you are quite unusual.”

  “We come from beyond the Great Eastern Desert,” she said. Her accent was quick thick, her voice low. The combination was as absorbing as her looks. “There, our appearance is most normal, and you would be quite remarkable.” She leaned closer, looking into my eyes. She gestured. “This color is even more remarkable. I have never seen eyes this color.”

  “Violet is quite unusual,” I replied. “I have only seen two others with color near mine, and both were far lighter.”

  “They are quite piercing,” she said with a smile. “Do they form searchlights in the dark?”

  I laughed. “Can you imagine? But at night, no one could see you. You are the one whose eyes should glow. Is your skin why you wear such bright dresses?”

  “It is the custom of our birth home.” She held out her hand, offering in the Sargaranese fashion. I gave her mine, an open hand, and we touched for a long moment, my fingers just touching her wrist, hers touching mine. “I am Alyidil.” And then we both withdrew, gently sliding our fingers across the other’s palm, brushing fingers in passing.

  “I am Jeraya,” I said. “Could you say your name more slowly?” She did, and I practiced it.

  “Just so,” she said.

  “You know our customs,” I said.

  “We have a similar custom, although quite different at the same time. Would you care to learn it?”

  “If it is brief,” I said. “I am due.”

  “This is a greeting between women,” she said. “It begins similarly, but the opposite hand.” She offered her left this time. We touched. “And with our right, we touch again, like this.” We didn’t touch hands. She lifted her hand towards my face then hesitated. “It is simple touch.” So I nodded, and she set her fingers against my ear. “In some places, we brush.” And she brushed fingers along the rim of my ear. “I have had my ear held.” And she showed me, only for a moment. “I don’t care for it. This is the custom in my village. Touch me the same.” So I lifted my own hand and lightly pressed against her ear, my wrist just touching her jaw the way she was touching mine.

  “Now, this part varies depending upon how well you know the other person. We withdraw our hand, very much in the Sargaranese fashion, but the path you take can be simple or…” She smiled.

  “Sensual?” I offered.

  “Yes. But we have only just met, Jeraya. And so my fingers will follow my wrist.” And then she did, lightly caressing from ear to the lower part of my jaw before separating. I did the same to her, grinning broadly.

  “I like this custom,” I said. “I’m sorry; I must go.” I hefted my bag. “I enjoyed meeting you.” Then I turned and hurried away.

  I didn’t realize I was being followed.

  * * * *

  I next saw them the following evening. Returning from the kitchen with a tray full of bowls for table 23, I saw the four women seated together at 37, the corner table furthest from the kitchen. I delivered everything to 23, collected a little detritus from 34, and then stepped up to 37. “It’s a small world,” I said. “Do you remember me?”

  “How could we forget?” said one of them, one of the two with her hair braided off-center. “Can you explain the meals here?”

  “Let me drop this off,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I carried the tray back to the kitchen, leaving the dirty cups in the sink. I washed and dried my hands and then hurried back to 37.

  “Your name is Jeraya,” said the one who had spoken before.

  “Yes,” I said. “I caught your name yesterday,” I said to Alyidil. Then I stumbled over it, taking two tries to get it right.

  She smiled and said, “I know it is unusual.” Then she introduced me to Mayolin, Filfoyss, and Burquiri.

  “Maybe another time you can help me pronounce those properly,” I said. “We’re busy tonight, and I’m the only server. Do you know what you would like to drink? We have wine, several styles of beer, mead, cider, and a variety of hard liquors.”

  “What is… the third one you mentioned?” Mayolin asked.

  I ran through the list in my head. “Ah. Mead. It is fermented from honey. We have two styles. Our black mead is flavored with blackcurrents and is quite sweet. Our metheglin is dry and flavored of vanilla and a hint of cloves.”

  “I do not understand. It is to drink, but you said it is dry.”

  “Oh. That means it isn’t as sweet,” I said. “I don’t know why they call it dry.”

  “It is from honey? It should be sweet.”

  “I can’t explain that, either. Wine is made from grapes, but not all wine is sweet.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Which do you prefer?”

  “It depends on what you have for dinner,” I said. “The stew is
especially good tonight, and with that, I prefer the metheglin. It is somewhat heartier. But we also have a lovely braised bluetail, and the black mead is a better choice.”

  “Bluetail?”

  “A type of fish.”

  “Ah,” she said.

  “I could bring a glass of each for you to try them,” I said.

  “Yes,” Alyidil said. “Please.”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  “Let us try this mead,” she replied. “And then we’ll see.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I worked the room, taking a few more updated orders. I returned, dropping things off on the way, and I set each mug down, making sure they knew which was which. “Why don’t you try those.”

  “You mentioned fish and stew,” Alyidil said. “Are there other choices?”

  “We have my favorite, which is braised lamb rice. It’s a poor name. There actually is very little lamb. It is a thick, dark sauce made from the lamb drippings but then made much like a stew, but served over rice. There are six types of vegetables, and it is very hearty. It is a little spicy, but not overpowering.”

  “It is your favorite?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She changed languages, and the four talked for just a moment or two before she turned back to me. “We would like this lamb and the stew.”

  “All right. Let me know what you decide about the mead.” And then I hurried away.

  * * * *

  The other tables turned over. The four women remained. If they had arrived for the first seating, that might have been frustrating, but they had come during second seating, and so we had open tables, and I couldn’t begrudge them the space. But then Alyidil asked, “What do you drink when you take a break?”

  “One of the meads,” I replied.

  “Perhaps you could bring us five more and rest for a minute with us.”

  I looked around. Everyone was fine. So I nodded. “I’d like that.” Two minutes later, taking a chair from another table, I sat down between Alyidil and Mayolin, all of them making a little room for me. I shared greetings with both women, doing so in their style, but only in the Sargarenese style with Filfoyss and Burquiri, reaching across the table to do so. Then I took a long gulp of my mead.

  I set the mug down and said, “I am sure I have never seen anyone like you before, and now I see you twice in two days.”

  “We are only freshly arrived in Rosegrove,” Alyidil said. “We have been here not a week.” Her speech patterns were a little odd, and her accent thick, but she had such a lovely voice, I listened to every word. “We are traveling Sargaren, searching high and low for our employer.”

  “Your employer is missing?”

  “No, no. We are traveling together. She is searching. We are helping her.”

  “What is she looking for? It must be very unusual.”

  “She didn’t think the search would be so difficult,” Mayolin explained. “But we are sworn to secrecy. However, we told her of you.”

  “You did?”

  “She was most intrigued when we described your eyes and told us if we see you again, she would like to meet you. Imagine our pleasure to find you again, the very next day!”

  Alyidil took my hand. “How much longer must you stay here? Can you leave with us?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “No. After we close, I have to help clean. And then I’ll be so tired, and I have to be up again early tomorrow, because we serve breakfast. Maybe another time.”

  “Oh,” she said, and in one word, she managed to convey much disappointment. “Is this your inn?”

  “No, no. I only work here, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, nine days a week.”

  She cocked her head. “I do not understand. There are only eight days in a week.”

  “It was a joke,” I said. “I work so many days each week, it feels like nine.”

  She offered a little laugh. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I get good food and a nice little place around the corner, all my own. My bed is warm in the winter, and on especially cold nights, we all stay here and keep the fire going.”

  “You work so hard.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Maybe she could come here sometime, if she really wants to see violet eyes.” I smiled. “Speaking of work.” I got up and finished my mug. “Did you want anything else?”

  “No,” Alyidil said.

  “I’ll bring the bill.”

  She nodded, and I stepped away, bustling about with the few remaining tables.

  I thought that would be the end of it.

  I was wrong.

  Surprise Visitors

  It was late. It was late every night. But I’d had a good night. I wasn’t paid to serve. Well, I was. I had my room, all my own, and I ate as much as I could want. But for money, I depended on the little bit some of the guests paid me. Most left nothing or very little. But some were kinder, and that was always appreciated. My needs were simple, but it was nice to make enough for a new book, and I was saving for another dress. My oldest was becoming ragged, and I wouldn’t be able to repair it many more times.

  I wasn’t the last out the door, but I was the last out the front, and I carefully locked the door, rattling it to be sure, looking around one more time before turning left.

  I didn’t notice I was being followed, two shapes as dark as night, moving from shadow to shadow. I dare say, few would have noticed.

  My home was only around the corner, a half block down, and then another half block. I paused at the entrance to the alley. It was only thirty steps to the stairs. I let my eyes grow a little more accustomed, but I neither heard nor saw anything I wouldn’t have welcomed, and so finally I made a little dash for it, scampering up the stairs. I had my key ready, and I was accustomed to sliding it into the lock, even in the dark. As soon as I was inside, with the door bolted, I reached for the lamp along the wall. My practiced fingers found the little knob, and I gave it a crank, extending the wick, and the room brightened enough I could see.

  I moved around, lighting a few more lights, before undressing for bed.

  I was dressed simply. My long skirt was plum. I had a white blouse, and over that, a brown, laced tunic. If I wished to give myself more shapely curves, I could draw the laces more tightly, but I usually wore them just shy of snug.

  I took all of these off, hanging them carefully, and then my underthings as well. I changed into sleepwear, which for the summer was a simple white shift.

  I was exhausted, but it always took me a little time to sleep. I moved around the room, turning off all the lamps except the one near my bed, right beside the window. I found my newest book and slipped under the covers, reading for twenty minutes.

  Then I yawned, marked my book, and then carefully turned down the lamp.

  As I lay there in the dark, I thought of the strange women. Their dresses were so colorful, and their skin so unexpectedly dark. But they were each absolutely stunning, or so I thought.

  It was too bad I couldn’t have gone with them, but what were they thinking? They must truly be strangers here.

  But I thought of Alyidil’s touch and smiled as I drifted to sleep.

  * * * *

  I don’t know how long I slept. I woke to a noise. The city always held noises, but this had seemed close. I sat up and looked around. It was too dim to see details, but I listened, and I heard nothing further.

  “Cat,” I muttered. It was a guess, and I didn’t really know what had woken me. But I rolled over to my other side and closed my eyes.

  Five heartbeats later, there was a fresh noise, several fresh noises, and I spun over in time to see… blackness. Moving shadows. And then the shadows were upon me. I opened my mouth to scream, but they had come prepared. Thick cloth pressed against my mouth, a hand pressing tightly, and then another reaching around and grabbing my head, wrapping me tightly and holding the cloth tightly in place. More hands grabbed my flailing arms, and someone wrapped both
my legs through the covers.

  I tried to scream, but no one was going to hear me.

  I didn’t understand what was happening. I should have seen something, but they were nothing but shadows, darker than shadows, and all I saw were eyes.

  They held me tightly as I struggled, as I tried to scream. They held me tightly as I wore myself out, thrashing in their hold.

  Then, in a quiet moment, a voice. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

  An accented voice.

  A familiar voice.

  I tried screaming again, and I renewed my struggles. It did me no good. They rode through it, and when next I slumped, breathing heavily through my nose, they rolled me onto my stomach, pinning me to the bed, climbing over me to do it. I tried to fight them, but they were four, and I was one.

  They pinned me to the bed, three holding me down tightly, holding me muffled. And the fourth began to tie my legs. I went insane, trying to fight them, but she drew the ropes snugly, my ankles first, and then another above my knees. Behind my legs she added a piece of smooth wood, a thick branch, then bent my legs double and bound them tightly. She used more ropes, taking her time, working carefully.

  And I’d like to say I struggled the entire time, but I didn’t. I struggled in spurts, but they held me easily, and my struggles did no good, not even enough to hit one of them, not once.

  They pulled me up so I was on my knees, still holding my arms tightly, my head tightly, the cloth over my mouth tightly. The one who had tied my legs went to work with more rope, tying some sort of complicated harness from my waist to over my shoulders, around my chest, between my breasts. Again, she worked carefully, and there was nothing I could do. And then the one on my right bent my arm, pressing it against my back, and the other tied it there as I tried to struggle. My left arm joined the right. They added another branch, this one laced under my left arm, across my back, and then under the right. They used more rope to tie me securely.

  Then the voice said, “We will not hurt you, but if you give us trouble, we will hurt you.” She paused and gave a little laugh. “I am sorry. In our language, there are different words. Maybe I should say harm? We will not harm you. We are taking you with us, and you will arrive whole. But if you give us trouble, we will be very unpleasant.”