Notes: More of Hiram and Lollop, coming atcha!

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Chapter One, Part Two

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Herbalism Isn’t Magical, Damn It

Photo by Yesmore Content

“Oof,” Robard said after a minute. “Bit hard to talk to Raileenethese days, eh? Unless you’re a necromancer.”

“We don’t talk about that kind of magic around here, you knowthat,” Jonn snapped in an undertone to him. “Pardon him, sir,” he addedapologetically to Hiram. “Once he’s gotten a few drinks into him, Robardforgets all his niceties. What he means to say is, well, the Widow Shore wasgetting on in years, and last winter was a real bad one. Real bad.” He waswringing his hands in the edge of his apron. “And she’s had an ache in herbones ever since surviving the plague back in her teens, and, well…she’s passedon, sir.”

“Ah,” Hiram said. Well, this is going to make things abit more complicated. “I see. Clearly, the home that I was told about won’tbe available anymore, but—”

“Ah, not so fast, not so fast,” Jonn said, making a let’s-not-be-hastygesture. “I know the house you’re referring to, sir, and it’s, uh…well, let’sjust say it could benefit from some tender, loving care now that the WidowShore is gone. It’s being looked after by a friend of the lady’s, and we canfetch her for you if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Hiram said bemusedly. It wasn’t likehe had anything better to do, and he certainly didn’t have anywhere better togo. “Shall I accompany you?”

“Oh, Robard will bring her to you, sir. Not a problem,” Jonnsaid.

“Eh?” Robard scratched at his thatchy hair. “Who said I’d dothat, hm?”

“I said it,” Jonn replied, his little hands on his hips. Forall that some of the most dangerous people Hiram had ever met in his life weregnomes, it was hard for them not to look cute when they got angry. “I’ve beenstanding you drinks all day, so the least you can do is get this gentleman ameeting with Mistress Tate.”

“Ah, fine, fine,” Robard said, using one hand to sling hissagging pants a bit higher on his hips. “Usually good for a hangover cure too,she is. I’ll be back.” He waddled out the door and into the bright light ofday. Almost immediately thereafter, there was a braying sound and a “Whoa, whoput this mule here, eh?”

Jonn closed his eyes, as if praying to one of the higherdeities. “Would that be your mule, sir?” he asked.

“Sure is,” Hiram said. “But don’t worry, Mule can take careof himself.”

“And so can Robard,” Jonn said. “He might spend more timedrunk than not, but he’s a tough old dwarf. Now.” Jonn rubbed his handstogether in an effort to seemingly rub his nerves away. “How about that drink,sir?”

“Much obliged,” said Hiram.

“Excellent, excellent. This way.” Jonn led the way over tothe bar where, after rounding the far corner, he climbed up several steps toput himself on an equal level with whatever patron happened to sit across fromhim. Almost the entire back of the bar was raised with the exception of anarrow space just behind it where Hiram presumed they stored glasses and such.

“One of our most popular brews for you, sir,” Jonn said,taking down a tall, thick glass mug with a heavy handle on the side andpropping it under a spout attached to a keg by the wall. “Just opened this oneup,” he promised. “It’ll be fresh as a daisy and smell twice as nice.” Heslowed the pour at the end, so as to keep the foam from overflowing the top ofthe glass, then set it down in front of Hiram. “There you are,” he said,beaming. “Go on, try it.”

“Thank you,” Hiram picked up the mug, raised it to hismouth, and took a sip.

His first reaction was “gleh, warm.” His second reaction wasshame for the first one. He’d become spoiled back in Galenish, where every barhad an icebox spelled to keep the mugs cool. Cold beer was a luxury, and one hehadn’t sipped from in the past week and a half of travel.

Apart from the temperature, it was an inoffensive enoughdrink. Too light for his taste, tending toward crisp and sour rather than darkand malty. But he smiled gamely at his host. “It’s good, thank you,” he said.

“Only the best at the Yew Brew,” Jonn patted the countertopproudly. “All the recipes I serve here were passed down to me from my father.They came to him from his father, and to him from his father, and to him fromhis mother, because his father died when he was a very young child. Butthat’s a tale of woe that only my great-grandfather could really tell you. Andthen she got it from her father, and—”

“Clearly they’re old family recipes,” Hiram interjected,knowing that gnomish lineage recitations could go on and on and on if he letthem. “Truly time-tested, then.”

“Indeed, indeed. Now, sir,” Jonn looked at him expectantly.“Tell us a bit about yourself, hm?”

A bit about himself. Well, if that wasn’t one of the mostunintentionally loaded questions Hiram had heard in his entire life. Up until ayear ago—hell, even six months ago—he had known who he was. The entire empirehad known who he was. He had been Xerome, Wizard of the First Order, greatestof the emperor’s spellcasters, warrior-general, wielder of fire, and protectorof the Commonwealth. And now…

“My name is Hiram,” he said, “Hiram Emblic. I’m anherbalist.”

“An herbalist?” Jonn’s eyes widened a bit. “Goodness, that’snot what I’d have pegged you for, sir, but it just goes to show there’s nojudging a book by its cover, hm? Where are you coming from, then?”

Hiram was half tempted to ask what Jonn would havepegged him for, but decided at the last second that he really didn’t want toknow. “I plied my trade up north for many years,” Hiram went on, “mostly inlarger cities, but things have been getting a bit hot up there lately, so Idecided it was time for a change.”

If possible, Jonn’s eyes got even wider. “Were you involvedin the War of the Burning Sands?” he whispered.

“On the fringes of it,” Hiram replied. “Too close forcomfort, to be honest. And fire’s not a friend to the plants I grow, so.” Actually,fire was a necessary component for a few of the plants he planned togrow, the special ones. Growing magical plants wasn’t the same as doing magic,after all. But he didn’t need to get into the details with an innkeeper he’djust met.

“Does this town already have an herbalist?” he asked, deftlychanging the subject. “I’d hate to be stepping on someone’s toes.” Liira hadalready assured him that there wasn’t any competition for that particular skillin Lollop, but that wasn’t something Hiram figured he should know yet.

“Oh, no, no. No herbalist to speak of. Well, not exactly,” Jonnamended. “Mistress Tate is something of a wise woman for these parts,” he said,with that particular delicacy that intimated the mystery of “women’s issues.” “ButI’m sure she’d be happier to work with you than without you.”

“That’s a relief,” Hiram said with an easy smile.

“Speaking of the good lady herself!” Jonn’s beaming smilecame back as he looked over Hiram’s shoulder at the door. “Mistress Tate, youcame faster than I’d imagined you would.”

“Your friend happened to run into me on the road,” the ladysaid as she stepped deeper into the inn. “Quite literally, in fact.”

Hiram’s eyes were fairly well adjusted to the low light atthis point, and he looked at the newcomer with unabashed interest. She was atall woman, older than him but not elderly, and in no way stooped. Her hair wasthat peculiar shade of platinum blonde that could edge into silver withoutanyone even realizing it, and her face, though weathered, bore the lines ofwhat was likely once immense beauty. She was wearing a simple green dress with nosleeves and a scooped neckline, as well as a shawl that preserved the modestythat seemed so important to people in these middle kingdoms.

“Ah.” Jonn’s smile turned apologetic. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s no matter,” she said. “I sent him back to hisapartment with a tonic that should help him sleep through the night.” Thatbusiness settled, she turned her gaze on Hiram. “So,” she said, “you’re the onethat Liira sent our way. I’ve been expecting you for some time now.”

Just how much had Liira told these people? “I am,” Hiramsaid, continuing to affect the same ease with which he’d entered the inn,although he was starting to wonder if this place was such a good idea. “But Idon’t want to put you out over it, Mistress.”

“No one would be put out were you to take possession of thehouse,” she said briskly. “Although legally speaking, it could only betemporary. Raileene, the gods rest her soul, willed that property to herdaughter, Jessamine. But Jessamine lives a large life in the city of Orivodethese days,” she continued, “and apparently can’t be bothered to handle littlethings like her mother’s last effects, or even come for her funeral.”

Ah, there was bad blood there, then. Normally Hiram wouldn’twant to take advantage of that sort of thing, but he did need a place to stay,and Mule needed rest. He’d been on the road now for almost a month, and ashearty as he was, hauling a wagon wasn’t the same as riding into battle.

“What would be entailed in my taking possession of theplace?” Hiram asked.

“You’d be responsible for its maintenance.” Mistress Tatesaid as she sat down on the stool next to him. Jonn immediately padded off toget her a drink, which she accepted with a gracious nod. “I’m afraid it’s gonea bit to the elements since Raileene moved in with me several years back. Butthe bones of the structure are good, and there’s plenty of space to ply a tradeon the grounds.” She looks him up and down. “Hmm…hedge wizard?”

Hiram almost choked on his drink. He’d gone out of his wayto abolish almost every trace of his original calling from the way he lookednow. How had she come that close in less than one minute of his company? “Ah,no magic for me,” he said, wiping a bit of foam from his mustache. “Herbalism, Mistress.I’m an herbalist.”

“Ah.” She nodded her head. “Well, there’s plenty of spacefor an expansive garden at this house, and a pasture for your mule.”

“And the rent?” Hiram asked. Not that it actually matteredto him. He had a purse of unending wealth thanks to a particularly dangerousdungeon crawl from his youth, but haggling, he constantly reminded himself, wasa thing for most people. They couldn’t throw money at their problems andexpect them to disappear. And now that he was Hiram Emblic, neither could he.

“Oh, there would be no rent,” she said.

Hiram narrowed his eyes. “This seems too good to be true,”he said bluntly. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch,” Mistress Tate said, “lies in the uncertainty. Raileene’sdaughter hasn’t been back to this town for close to ten years now, but thatdoesn’t mean that she never will come back. And if she does, legallyspeaking, the house belongs to her. It was her mother’s wish and one that Ican’t gainsay, however much I might like to.” She added the last part under herbreath. “But it was a beautiful home once. Raileene was born there, she raisedher family there, and if things had gone a bit differently, she would have diedthere. But.” Mistress Tate shrugged. “Not even the Emperor can control thevagaries of fate.”

Hiram raised his glass in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”

“And will you take the house?” she pressed.

“I feel I should see it before I say yes,” Hiram replied.

“Of course. I’ll take you there myself.”

That was not what he wanted. Mistress Tate saw a great dealmore than he was comfortable with. To spend more time in her company, with herin the presence of Mule, of Phlox, of his rather suspicious amount of baggage…And yet there was no elegant way out of it.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m much obliged to you, Mistress. Allowme to pay for your beer.”

She smiled at him. “Cheers,” she said. “Now drink up. Thesooner we get there, the sooner you’ll begin to start cleaning.”