The Autobiography of Gayle Hunter

Mistakes and Miracles (You'd Think I'd Learn)

The dragon—which did indeed appear to have grown from some sort of fruit—turned out to be quite young, and had no greater quarrel with the township than wanting its freedom, to be more than an experiment.  ...Which isn't to say it didn't give us trouble, of course.  It was also quite interested in the diversion we could provide, and while we technically each gave our word to stay the killing blow, it was given under some duress from us, and I don't know that anyone trusted the dragon's.  Regardless, we did bring it under control without any losses.

...And then we parted ways.

I didn't go to the address Gin had given me as a place to stay.

Yet the next day—once I felt recovered enough to hold my illusion for some few hours—found me again by the guild's door.  A second sign caught my eye, above a separate entrance to the wing that looked like an overturned ship.  It bore the same crossed sword and wand, but over a frothing mug.  The tavern Gin mentioned.

The noise was enough to give me second thoughts even before I pushed the door open, and just as I did, a raucous cheer went up from one end of the room, a smug woman pulling a pile of coins toward herself as a minotaur—a minotaur, no less!—hung his head in defeat.  Someone was playing the fiddle somewhere, the bartender was deep in conversation with a group of gnomes, and half the place was dressed for battle.  It was...it was as if you took three score mercenaries, made them all protagonists of their own plays—some just beginning, others showing instabilities and eccentricities as they concluded their second act, a few seasoned folks somewhere in their third—and threw them in a room together.

And it was still midday.

A door across the room opened as someone passed through, revealing a courtyard of some sort, and I seized the opportunity, weaving my way through the room to slip out into the quieter space.  There was a woman sitting on a bench nearby, hunched over a notebook, and then something flew up in my face and I jolted back.

"Hi!  You have a pretty outfit."

I shook my head, and peered closer—and it was, indeed, as it appeared: a fairy of some sort, small enough to sit in the palm of my hand.  "Ah...thank you," I said, still gathering my wits again.

"May I have..."  The fairy shook her head.  "Er, what's your name?"

"...Gaul, though you mayn't have it.  And yours?"

"Call me Val," she said, descending a foot or so in the air and holding out a hand to shake.

I reciprocated, though only with a finger, still in quiet wonder at the exchange—and immediately flinched as she took it, my hold wavering on the illusion.  You'd really think I'd have learned by now.

"Are you an adventurer?"

Had she not noticed?  "That I am."

"Neat!  So's Kari," Val said, finally letting go of my finger to turn and point at the woman with the notebook.  "She's my summoner," Val went on, her voice rising to a pointed singsong as she continued, "but she's too rude to come over and introduce herself properly."

"I was getting up, Val, give me a moment," the woman grumbled.  She closed her notebook and rose smoothly, straightening her shirt with a quick brush.  "Kari Falk, investigator and occasional adventurer.  Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm certain," I replied with a nod.

Her gaze flicked to her fairy companion, and back to me.  "Anything bring you to the guild, if you don't mind my asking?  Everyone I've talked to so far has had quite the story."

"Well, I heard it was the place to be for adventurers in the area," I said, feigning nonchalance.  "Not much of a story there, I'm afraid."

"Ah, fair enough.  Care to join us for a bit?  It's lovely out here, the tavern sends out some very good lemonade every now and again if you ask, and it's always nice to get to know new people."