The Third Apprentice Read Free Page B

He could not recall. Following his feet, he turned at the
second street, which was far narrower than the main road. A man carrying planks
came around from a corner, nearly bashing Taren’s head with a sliding board.
Noticing the movement from the corner of his eye, the mage barely had time to
duck. Luckily, he reacted in time, and the board narrowly missed him. Turning,
he ruffled his brow at the man carrying the load.
    The mustachioed man returned his gaze. “Watch
where yer goin’ then!” he shouted before continuing on his way.
    Taren shook his head and cupped his hands over his
eyes. Rubbing his face briskly, he tried to shake himself from the daze that
had come over him. A hot meal and something to drink would help, he decided.
This day had already proved too eventful, and he needed time to gather himself
before deciding whether to move on. Master Imrit would be sorely disappointed
if he returned now, assuming it was possible to return. For all he knew, the
beast was still waiting for him to reenter the woods. He would have to press
on, but for now, he had earned a rest.
    The Wigglin’ Wyrm stood only a few steps away, its
wooden sign dancing on the breeze. It bore the image of a skinny golden dragon
with a mug of frothy ale in its hand. The outside was in disrepair, with
crooked shutters and a few shingles missing from the roof. Stepping inside, he
was surprised to find it well kept. The common room was already bustling with
activity, despite it still being early. Most of the men inside should have been
working, but they had chosen revelry instead.
    Taren found a seat at the bar as far as he could
get from the other patrons. A heavy woman in a low-cut bodice approached him
with a wide smile, the gap between her front teeth displaying itself as a thing
of beauty.
    “What’ll ye have, love?” she asked.
    “Whatever you have cooking will be fine,” he
replied. “And I’ll be needing a room as well.”
    “Got some lovely stew,” she said with a wink.
“It’s nice and hot. Ye can have yer choice o’ rooms. Might have to double up if
it gets busy, mind ye.” She scurried off behind the bar, disappearing through a
squeaky wooden door.
    The thought of sharing a room didn’t appeal to
Taren. This town was unknown to him, but he was aware of the general distrust
of wizards in this area. Still, there was little choice unless he was prepared
to scour the town for a different inn. It would be dark in a few hours, so he
resigned himself to staying put regardless of who might be joining him in his
room.
    The large woman returned and placed a steaming
bowl in front of him. Flashing another smile, she grabbed a mug from beneath
the bar and filled it with a golden liquid. “Our house ale,” she stated
proudly. “Best in the city.”
    “I’m sure it is,” Taren replied. Taking a sip, he
fought the urge to spit it out. The ale was thin with an overly strong taste of
alcohol. Now he knew why so many people shrugged off work to visit the
establishment. Bringing a spoonful of stew to his mouth, he blew on it to cool
it before taking a taste. To his surprise, it was quite good. The meat tasted
fresh, and the potatoes and carrots were cooked perfectly. The slice of bread
that accompanied it was still warm from the oven. It was flavorful and reminded
him of the bread Vita would occasionally bake. He missed his home already.
    Finishing his meal, he asked the woman, “How much
do I owe you?”
    “Ten coppers fer the room and two fer the food,”
she replied. “But ye won’t be ready fer bed yet. Thare’s a lute player comin’
in a bit.”
    Taren wasn’t in much of a mood for a party. Though
he was feeling better after his meal, he still planned to retire early and get
a good night’s sleep before deciding what to do in the morning. Fishing in his
bag, he produced the coppers and laid them on the counter. “I thought I might get
to bed early,” he said.
    The barmaid came around to his side of the bar and
pressed