Flying had certainly shortened the time it took to travel from the capital back to her home village. However Sara was still confined to following the roads from above and occasionally landing to read a road sign to remind herself of which path to take at each crossroads. By her estimate, she'd be in her village of Granton before sunset, but for now she needed to rest for a moment. She spotted an Inn next to the road and came in to land.
" 'Lone Hearth'," she read aloud. 'I think this is where we stopped at when mom and dad took us to the capital for our training. It feels so long ago...'
Sara pushed open the door and stepped inside. As she entered, the conversations ceased and she noticed all eyes were on her. Sara tried to ignore the stares and made her way to the bar for something to drink. By the time she reached it, the other patrons seemed to loose interest and resumed their activities.
"Can I help you," the heavyset barkeep asked, eyeing her up and down.
"May I have something to drink," Sara answered. "I think you had a honeyed tea a few years ago last I was here."
The man nodded and returned a moment later with a kettle of tea and jar of honey. His movement tense like he was expecting something to happen any moment.
"Don't remember you," he said as he poured the tea into a cup, "and I take pride in remembering everyone that comes through here."
Sara sat on a bar stool and set her bag on the floor next to her. "Everyone?"
"Yep," he spooned in the honey, never wasting a drop. "Here you go."
"Thank you," Sara passed him a few coins and sipped the drink, savoring the sweet taste. "I didn't look like this last time I came here. My names Sara Zagan."
"Hmm... few years ago with a brother and parents? Father named Phillip?" Sara nodded to both questions. "Yeah I remember you now, guess you didn't expect to grow up like this."
"To be honest it was a shock to me too," she took another sip. Before they could continue their conversation, Sara felt her bag being pulled away from her. Sara felt her tail that she'd wrapped around one of her bags straps get pulled taut followed by a thud behind her. She turned around in her seat and saw a halfling flat on her back, one hand still holding onto Sara's bag.
"Nice try," Sara smiled, "but not good enough." Sara pulled her bag out of the angry halfling's grip and set it beside her. The halfling got up and ran out the front door as several patrons laughed at her. "You tend to get a lot of thieves here," Sara asked the barkeep.
"Not really. That's Skittish."
"Skittish?"
"Our name for her. She's very quick and when around people is real twitchy. You probably flew in on those," he motioned to Sara's wings, "and missed the signs on the road. See, this whole stretch of road that goes on for another 30 miles in either direction is what we call 'Skittish Way'. No bandit, nor beast, nor monster will hurt you along this stretch guaranteed. She keeps the road clear, and in exchange she asks a small toll of 10 silver. Usually a box will be in the middle of the road for you to put the coin in."
"But what if you can't pay, or choose not to, or if like me miss a sign?"
"Well, she'll usually sneak it off you if you look like you can pay like she just did. If it looks like you can't afford it, she'll leave you be."
"But how did she know I didn't pay? I did fly in here after all."
The barkeep shrugged, "she just knows.
"Guess I had pay my toll before she runs off with my bag," Sara pulled out a handful of coins and set out 10 silver. "Got a place to put it?" The barkeep pointed to a box next to the door. Sara placed the coins and returned to her seat.
30 minutes afterwards the doorway to the Inn flew open and a figure in shining armor and a white cloak stepped in dragging the same halfling, hogtied, in tow. Behind them came a man dressed in clothing similar in style to some of Neisha's clothes and behind him a hooded man carrying a long staff adorned with a ruby at the top.
"I have need of someone to take this rat back to the city," the well dressed man scanned the room, his voice heavy with some foreign accent. "This filth tried to steal from me and needs to be punished."
After a few moments of silence the Inn's patrons burst out laughing much to the man's confusion and frustration. "What is the meaning of this?"
"All this for 10 silver? Didn't you read the signs," one armoured patron asked as he tried to catch his breath.
"10 silver or 10,000 silver, no one steals from me! I am Lord Salim Ibm Tareq, of the great merchant lords. No one laughs at me! If you will not deliver punishment then I will!" At this, the good spirits in the Inn seemed to disappear immediately.
The trio dragged the halfling outside and several patrons followed them, Sara and the barkeep included. The armoured individual walked over to the opulent looking carriage that they had apparently been traveling in and retrieved something and passed it to the lord. With a flick of the wrist from the hooded man, the ropes untied themselves and Skittish was levitated up into the air with her back to the trio.
"Stop! You really don't want to do this," the barkeep warned them.
"I do whatever I wish and this punishment will teach you all to keep thieves in line. Anyone that interferes will suffer as well." he raised the object back behind him, a wicked tangle of leather ropes like a mass of whips clustered together each with a knot near the end.
Before she knew what she was doing, Sara had grabbed the noble by the wrist and held it still.
"Unhand me you wretch! Zahir! Hamid," he called and Sara suddenly felt an intense pain in her left wing and released her grip. The next moment, she felt an intense burning as the whip-thing lashed across her head followed by a moment of weightlessness as she was thrown backwards. As Sara tried to get up, she felt someone keeping her from lunging at the trio.
"Stop, stop! That's enough," yelled whoever it was holding her back.
"Anyone else," the noble looked around, the crowd just glared at him and the 2 guards that were prepared to defend at a moment's notice. "Good," Salim whirled around and raised his weapon high and brought it down on the halfling's back, cutting through both cloth and skin.
As he raised his hand again and brought it down on Skittish the person holding Sara back whispered in her ear, "don't fight them, you won't win against those 2 in a straight on fight anyways."
"But someone has to do something to help her," she protested, turning upward to see it was the barkeep holding her back.
The barkeep's voice grew dark, "the roads tend to get dangerous at night. Sun'll set in an hour or so."
Sara closed her eyes as the whipping continued for a few more strikes. "Let her down Hamid. This should show you all how thieves should be dealt with. Let's go!" The trio boarded the carriage and departed down the road, leaving a dust cloud in their wake.
Sara was helped into the Inn alongside Skittish, who wordlessly sat next to her at the bar. Sara took a moment to examine the source of the pain in her wing, evidently the one called Zahir had cut through the membrane of her wing and left a nearly 2 foot long tear in it. Additionally the whip thing had left her face cut up from that swipe. She felt someone tapping her arm and looked to see Skittish holding out a bottle filled with red liquid.
"Thank you, but what about you?"
Skittish handed the potion to Sara and then pulled another from a bag on her hip that shouldn't have enough space for one let alone 2 healing potions. She then uncorked hers and downed the contents. The wounds on Skittish's back knitted together in a few minutes and she let out a sigh. She then motioned to the one she'd given to Sara, her hands making a series of gestures Sara didn't understand.
"I'm sorry I don't understand, but I thank you for the potion," Sara drank hers and gasped as her wing membrane was pulled together and the gap closed along with the cuts on her face.
"She was saying thank you for trying to step in," the barkeep said, suddenly appearing behind the counter. "Looks like you'll be good and healed tomorrow, but I'd still wait a day or two before actually trying to fly. Never trusted potions myself."
"You're probably right, it's not too far home. I was hoping to get there today though," Sara grumbled.
"Granton is not your home," said someone behind her. Her patience exhausted for the day, Sara spun around was and ready to vent some frustration on just about anything. As expected, standing in the doorway was Stanley Zagan.
"Not now Stanley, I'm not in the mood."
"Truth hurts," he walked into the Inn and shut the door behind him and walked up to the barkeep without looking at her again. "One room for the night."
"5 gold."
"Little expensive for a roadside Inn, here," Stanley fished out the coins and traded them for the room key offered.
"Third on your left." Stanley bowed slightly and started to walk off when the barkeep looked at Sara "you should stay here too."
"Probably," she sighed, suddenly aware of how tired she felt and started to fish out the money.
"Room's already covered," the man winked. Stanley's foot steps paused for a moment before he continued to his room like he was about to say something.
"But why?"
"Call it a Thank you for trying to help Skittish earlier and a small apology for misjudging you earlier. I...don't have a good history with demon customers," he seemed ashamed. "Plus Skittish seems to like you."
"I get that a lot these days," Sara got up and began to head to her room. "Thank you, and apology accepted."
"Good night madam."
Sara wasn't even aware she'd hit the pillow in her room before she was asleep.