Kiri

The candles flickered as the storyteller finished her tale, and Kiri was sure that there were only a few hours until the sun peeked over the trees to the east. The storyteller had long ago finished her tankard and started a second, then a third and fourth, but she stood up gracefully from her place by the fire. The other patrons seemed lulled by her story, gazing ahead with dreamy, sleep-filled eyes.

“I believe that it is far past an old woman’s bedtime,” she laughed, gesturing for Kiri to come fetch her. The girl rushed forward, making a great show of the woman leaning heavily upon her, although she barely felt a bit of the lady’s weight. If it was of such great importance to the storyteller to keep up the ruse, Kiri was of a mind to help her keep it.

“Milady!” said the young minstrel, standing up as they moved toward the stairs. “’Please, may I have the pleasure of escorting you?”

Surprise was clearly written across the storyteller’s features. She peered down at Kiri, who only stared back, unsure of what the woman was thinking.

“Thank you, child,” she said with a slight inclination of her head, “but I believe Kiri can manage.”

“Oh,” he sighed, hanging his head. “I see.”

“Perhaps you may escort me tomorrow morning though, to town.” The woman turned to her again. “That is, as long as you do not mind him joining us.”

She blinked, but knew better than to ask what the storyteller meant. “No, of course not, my lady.”

The minstrel looked as if he would faint from the honor. “Thank you, milady!” A sly glint in his eye appeared as he asked, “Maybe you will tell me about Elishaveth of the Wood and Orithyia the Young then?”

The woman’s mouth frowned, but her eyes still smiled. “Everything in its own time, child.” She made a beckoning gesture with her hand. “Come Kiri, it is time for me to rest.”

“Yes, my lady,” she agreed, leading her gently to the stairs.

As they walked up, the storyteller asked, “That boy, do you know him?”

“No, my lady,” she replied with a somber shake of her head. “He is just on of the wandering minstrels that follow the mummers. There are always many of them in large cities, but only a few follow the mummers this far out.” She shrugged. “The others have probably already moved on by now – Madam already made clear who her favorite was, and she’s the only inn here.”

“Has he been here long?”

“Only a week, my lady,” Kiri said. “Just as long as the mummers, I would guess.”

“I see,” she murmured. “Do you know anything of him?”

“No more than the next, I suppose.” Kiri shrugged. “Just that he’s a minstrel – young enough that he’s probably trying to garner a reputation so that he’ll be invited to train as a bard.”

“Hm,” the storyteller hummed. “Harmless enough I suppose.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the woman’s words, so instead she remained silent, watching the storyteller’s face carefully.

“Not everyone is as trustworthy as we’d like them to be,” the woman explained with a kind smile when she spied Kiri’s expression. “You are nearly one of a kind in that, child. But I suppose once day you’ll lose that and grow jaded like the rest of us.”

Kiri pressed her lips together anxiously. “You aren’t old, are you, my lady?”

The woman hesitated, then laughed long and hard, in a way that she felt wasn’t completely necessary. “Make no mistake, child, this body is old; it just does not show it as others may.”

They stopped in front of the woman’s room, and she gave Kiri an affectionate pat on the head. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, child. Bright and early.” With a smile she leaned down and added, “No need to skulk around behind me when you’re already with me, hm?”

With that, she entered the room, leaving Kiri to gape at her closed door.