Tale of the Greywalker
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The tale-meister paused to catch his breath. It had been a long day, and though he wasn’t particularly fast on his feet, he’d managed nearly two dozen miles since sunrise. Two dozen miles that had led him through a half dozen villages and, as the sun had started to dip below the horizon, to the gates of the would-be city of Hadinbourne.
There had been no challenge at the gates, but the guards had charged him a pair of copper coins for entry, warned him that the bearing of unsheathed weapons was forbidden on the city streets after sundown. A small pittance to be sure, but his purse had grown lighter at every turn, the coins slipping from his purse into the hands of those in need. He’d always been a generous man when he could be. Now, as the last of the sun’s light was fading, he began to wonder if, perhaps, he’d been a bit too generous over the last hour.
“Suppose I should find myself a bit of work for the evening,” he muttered to himself. “Man’s gotta eat, gotta have a place to sleep, but where to find either or both?”
He took a moment to study the streets ahead and behind, those off to the side. It wasn’t the best the city had to offer, but neither was it the worst. The folks wouldn’t be wealthy but they might spare a coin or two for a good story. The food and drink wouldn’t be lavish, but it’d be filling. The beds wouldn’t be plush, but they’d be comfortable. It was the type of area a man like himself could find a bit of work. He’d taken no more than a dozen steps towards the nearest inn when something at the very edge of his vision caught his attention.
Turning slowly, for it was the way of such things to disappear if one looked to quickly, a smile found its way onto the wrinkled features of his face. A sign at the far end of a dark alley. A sign that he couldn’t quite make out at this distance. But it was a sign that was very familiar to him, an old friend of sorts.
And it called to him. A call that he couldn’t help but answer.
“Well hello there, old friend. Didn’t imagine I’d find you hanging around these parts. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. And saints, but you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Straightening his shoulders, the tale-meister turned and made his way into the alley. It was dark, full of shadows and hidey-holes. And those were probably full of beggars, thieves, and ruffians. He wasn’t concerned, though. If it came to that, he could handle himself.
Story telling wasn’t his only talent.
With each step he took, he could feel the world around him shifting in subtle ways. The crunch of gravel and stone beneath his feet giving way to the soft rustle of grass and leaves. The painful groans of the suffering and voices raised in anger giving way to songbirds and the chirping of crickets. The humid stench of refuse and bodily excrement giving way to a cool mountain breeze laced with the scents of pine and oak, daffodils and roses. And there, at the very edge of the lantern’s glow, a shimmering veil, offering brief glimpses of worlds neither here nor there.
Standing, now, in the glow of that lantern, the tale-meister lifted his gaze to the sign hanging above and perpendicular to the door. Here and There Inn it read on one side. And on the other, Now and Then Inn. Those familiar with the Inn, as he was, knew just how appropriate those words were. If one knew where to look, always, the Inn could be found somewhere between here and there, or, perhaps, somewhere between there and here. And so long as one knew when to look, they’d find it sometime between now and then, between then and now.
Reaching up, he brushed his fingers along the bottom edge of the weather-worn sign. “How convenient that you’re Inn the Here and Now,” he murmured, chuckling at the silly play on words. “What do you say we see how full the house is tonight, eh?”
Felt like the previous version of the sign was a bit too cluttered, so worked up an alternate version. Just like there are two sides to ever coin, there are two sides to the sign....
Here and There Sign.jpg
Now and Then Sign.jpg
