The Tale Teller

Ch 17

 Vaun woke with a shiver and an overwhelming want to lay where he was in the straw and never get up.

Somewhere in the barn, he could hear the scurries of a mouse mixing with the constant tapping of the rain on what was left of the roof. A puddle had formed in the far corner where the deep blue-grey sky could be seen above it. It wasn't joyous and bright and neither was Vaun.

He thought of Celise, and for once, he allowed himself to. Was she awake, laying in her bed how he lay here right now, or was she keeping herself busy and distracted? What was she doing? Did she still have the inn to clean and cook in, and if not, where was she? Would Vaun even be able to find her? He didn't know, but he had to try.

Thinking back to how she used to rise early to tidy the place and prepare for the day, Vaun thought it best he did the same. He sat up on his straw bed, looking around with a wave of cluelessness on where to go from here.

Opan's imprisonment hadn't really sunk in yet. Sure, Vaun accepted the news, but it didn't feel real. It had yet to strike him that he may never see the man again, never help him to chop and carry wood, or to bring in a new barrel of ale. He may never help him to fix a stool a rowdy customer had broken the night before, or to help with some new addition to the inn, like an extra shelf behind the bar.

The Inn would never be the same without him, and neither would Vaun's life. He knew if Opan was to die, once the reality did settle with him, it would be crushing.

Vaun stood with a sigh, folding up the blanket he always kept in his bag, and the cloak he had thrown on top of it as an extra layer. As the rain had carried on throughout the night, getting heavier, it had grown colder. It was still warm compared to what Vaun knew the north would be. The likes of Caveholde and Fairpass likely had snow by now. Soon it would be drifting down as low as the midlands. It had been a long time since Vaun had been north the right time of year to see the full force of winter, but it seemed this year would be his chance.

He supposed it would be nice to look out at falling snow from a window, sheltered by a warm house with a roaring fire. It would be even nicer if Celise and Opan could be there, alive and well, Celise smiling how she used to. It was a picture Vaun prayed could be painted true.

Turning to his bag he pulled out her letter, along with the two money bags he had pocketed the night before. He had yet to count the coins inside, and it would be stupid to hit the road without being sure of just how much he had collected.

If winter was to be spent in Cragbarrow, perhaps he should pick up the tunic from the tailor in Ebonton, for the cold weather would call for it. The man would need to be paid and hopefully, this would cover it. Vaun would also need money for food, and to use as a bribe for those too hesitant to give him a ride on their carts as they travelled between one settlement to another.

He remembered Branoff's words about meeting him in Ebonton. He knew what he had meant by that, but perhaps he could still find the man there and receive one last act of his kindness. Branoff may be persuaded to at least take Vaun as far north as he could before turning for the west and the lake and mountains beyond. It would be no more than a fraction of time with he and Lissy, only a small piece of the journey ahead, but Vaun may just be able to count on them for help.

Unfolding his cloak, Vaun spread it over the straw before pouring out the contents of the first money bag. Twelve coins, all showing the heads of The Fox on one side and The Swan on the other. The next bag held twenty. Thirty-two coins weren't a lot to the likes of the merchants of Faydura, but to Vaun, it was the most money he had seen in a long time. This would pay for his tunic, for sure, and at least get him to Appleton. Even if the weather was bad and he was knee-deep in snow by then, he didn't care about walking the rest of the way.