them were unsavory-looking men at that. I would have to rest somewhere else. There was no way I could relax here.
I attracted the bartender’s attention, ordering. “A Fisherman’s Fire, sir.” Like the name implied, the liquors used in this particular concoction were the kind that burned on the way down. It would warm me up until I found an inn, I was sure.
A few seconds passed, and the man slid a small glass of amber liquid toward me, holding up two fingers to represent the price. I dug in a pocket, handed him what he wanted, and then threw the foul-smelling liquid down my throat, trying not to cough. Placing the glass back on the bar, I put my hood up and pulled my scarf closer to my chin. I took one last glance around the warm tavern, grimacing a little at the stares, before walking back out into the rain.
I hung a right, hopefully heading toward the main square and somewhere to settle myself. A crowd of people rushed by me, their arms full of produce and shining garments. It was common for merchants to set up a market in the square on sunny days. A sudden storm like this one would send them and their customers scrambling for cover. Confident that I had gone the right direction, I quickened my step.
I kept my eyes out for an inn, but several I passed appeared to have been closed for the season. The water was clinging to everything, and I shivered despite the warmness in my belly. I really missed having a nice, warm home of my own.
On the other side of the square a shabby, but affordable, inn came into view. Seeing no other option and quickly tiring of the cold, I ducked inside and was greeted by a healthy young port-dweller. He grinned as I approached, the elaborate tattoos crawling up from under his collar moving with the muscles of his neck. His confident gaze unnerved me, but at least he was not big and smelly like the men in the pub.
I dug in my bag to pay for the room, passing seven coins to the boy. My meager funds would not last much longer like this, my coin purse feeling lighter by the minute. Lips pulling back in a grimace, I followed the man down the hall to my room. I needed at least to get to the mainland before I could find some employment. I would have to curb my spending until then.
The inn was warm, and the room that the tattooed young man had shown me to was quiet despite the pounding of the rain outside. I thanked him and locked the door behind me, hoping there was not going to be a repeat of the night before. Settling into the lamp-lit room, I quickly stripped of my damp clothes and