Damon took his time walking through Telsius’s marketplace, eyeing the goods of each vendor. He’d pretended to ignore the vocal vendors earlier, but the idea of buying gifts for his companions had intrigued him, especially with the variety of items on hand. He had money for it, and genuinely wanted to do something nice for the women he cared about.
Shopping for Ria was easy. Damon doubled back to the vendor who’d been yelling about swords earlier, and after comparing his prices with an equally loud competing weapon merchant across the street, purchased her a new throwing dagger. It was nicer than the old one he’d gotten her, forged from Argenstein steel, with a well-oiled sheath that had a belt loop on the back.
He wanted to get his aesta something nice, something she might not normally buy for herself. He settled on a fine metal hairpin with two tiny emeralds set into the either edge, haggling the jeweler down from his original, borderline outrageous price.
He couldn’t resist buying Vel a new set of night clothes after seeing the way they hugged the petite frame of a feminine wooden display mannequin that could have been her body double. They verged on being too lurid for her to ever consider normally wearing, but as a gift, one from him, he suspected he could convince her to throw them on.
Last but not least, Damon bought a fine black cloak for Lilian, one with a hood that had an adjustable drawstring running through its hem. He figured it would serve to let her move about slightly more easily in the sun, but also blend in better with the shadows when she was out and about at night. It also had a convenient number of pockets sewn into its interior of which the shady merchant selling it extolled the virtues.
He stuffed his various gifts into his traveling pack and took stock of how much money he actually had left. He could still afford to rent the rooms at an inn, though not an upscale one, if Telsius was charging rates similar to what was once fair in Veridan’s Curve.
Damon headed first to a place he’d seen on their way through the docks, The Seaman’s Bunkhouse. He had barely made it a step into the common room before being accosted by the overwhelming smell of piss and rot. He turned and walked out, unwilling to subject himself to that kind of place, let alone Malon and the others.
He found another inn with a fairly upscale décor and a sign out front that read The Maiden’s Court. An attractive woman beckoned him in with a curled finger, and Damon was well into haggling over rates when he realized that she was, in a fact, a courtesan and not flirting with him out of genuine attraction. He thought it would be an easier place to sell to his companions than the previous, but a whorehouse was far from ideal.
With far more patience than he’d originally anticipated needing, Damon searched the city for another inn. A city Telsius’s size should have had near a dozen, at least, which left him feeling increasingly frustrated as he tried and failed to find one. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps they might simply have to make the trip back to The Reunion to spend the night on the ship when he stumbled across a small, unassuming inn hidden behind a woodworking shop.
The sign out front read The Eagle’s Roost, a generic and safe name, if there ever was one. Damon sniffed as he entered the common room, detecting no overwhelming scents. He didn’t see any courtesans, or anything that seemed as though it might offend his companions. He took a seat at the bar and waved to the proprietor, a blond man with a shaggy beard.
“How much per room?” he asked. “My family and I are looking for a place to stay tonight.”
“Rovahn’s balls…” The man slowly began to shake his head, suddenly looking awfully familiar. “It can’t be… I don’t believe my eyes.”
“Do I know…” He trailed off, mentally subtracting the beard, along with five or so years. “True Divine. Austine?”
“Anders fucking Rosewood.”
“I’m back to calling myself Damon, now,” he said. “But yeah. It’s me.”
“It’s you!” Austine slapped a hand down on the counter.
“It’s me?” laughed Damon. “No, it’s you!”
Austine climbed over the counter and pulled Damon into a crushing bear hug. They jumped up and down together, slapping each other’s backs and behaving more like children than grown adults. With an arm still around Damon’s shoulder, Austine hurriedly poured two mugs of ale and slid one in front of each of them.
“How are you even still alive, let alone here?” asked Austine, once they’d calmed down enough to speak clearly. “I heard from multiple sources that you died five years ago. I… to be honest, I now feel rather ashamed for not delving deeper into the truth.”
“I was dead,” said Damon. “Or close to it, as it happens. I pushed my myrblade to the limits of its capabilities and froze myself in time, right up until a little over a month ago.”
He took a sip of the ale and was pleasantly surprised by the rich flavor.
“Drink up,” said Austine. “It’s on the house.”
“You own this place?”
Austine grinned and nodded. “Surprised that someone with my wild temperament settled down into a respectable life?”
“No, I was actually going to accuse you of stealing my idea,” said Damon.
“Stealing your idea? I’ll admit I took a certain amount of inspiration from how satisfied you seemed during your time at The Rosewood Inn , but the spirit of this establishment is a far cry from the motley operation you were running.”
“Those are fighting words if I’ve ever heard them,” said Damon, grinning back.
They banged their mugs together and started chugging down their beers. Austine refilled his and reached for Damon’s, but Damon set a hand over the top and shook his head.
“I should slow down,” he said. “I’m not alone. My aesta and my sisters are in the city with me.”
Austine smirked and clapped him on the shoulder. “The whole family is along for the adventure, eh? Some things never change.”
“And some things do,” came a new voice.
A dark-skinned woman with thinly braided hair walked out into the common room. Damon glanced away respectfully when he saw the breast-feeding baby in her arms, but she didn’t seem put off by his presence or attention. She set a hand on Austine’s shoulder, and the two of them shared a kiss.
“Damon, meet Janine, my devoted wife and the co-owner of this fine inn,” said Austine.
“This… is Damon?” Janine furrowed her brow, eyes curious. “Huh. I always pictured him as more of a brutish warrior type.”
“Pound for pound, he’s about as deadly as they come.” Austine slapped him on the back. “You look confused, Damon.”
He was, and he chose his next words carefully. “I just… never imagined you’d be a one-woman kind of guy.”
Austine shrugged, his smile still full of good humor. “My circumstances changed after I gave up being Avarice’s crest sorcerer. It took a toll on my love life, most of all, though I’m glad for it now. Janine and I met here on the island.”
“I’m happy for you,” said Damon. Both Austine and his wife were smiling strangely, and he had to comment on it after a few awkward seconds. “What is it?”
“There’s someone I think you should meet,” said Janine. “Damon. Would you come in here for a moment?”
Damon shook his head, mystified, until the sound of tiny footsteps echoed into the room. A little boy with loose brown hair, tanned skin, and a wooden sword emerged from the curtain separating the common room from the back.
“Damon,” said Austine. “Meet Damon.”
“You… named your…” The taller of two Damons cleared his throat, feeling a sudden tightness there.
“I did,” said Austine. “I’m only alive because of you, and as I said… I was all but certain that you were dead. I suppose in some ways I wanted your essence to live on. You were… you are, my best friend.”
“This is Uncle Damon?” called the kid with the sword. “The one you used to fight with?”
“This is Uncle Damon,” said Austine.
The kid stared at Damon for a couple of seconds, and then growled and charged at his father, laughing as he pelted him in the leg with the wooden sword. Austine made a show of falling out of his stool in feigned pain and then began wrestling the little one, grinning and looking so much like the friend Damon remembered, while simultaneously so much more.
“Get up off that dirty floor,” said Janine. “I just washed that shirt for you, Damon.”
Austine scooped his son up onto his shoulders and took a seat again. The little boy seemed totally comfortable at the height, and after a moment, he rolled forward, tumbling somewhat ungainly onto the counter before hopping down to the floor and retrieving his discarded sword.
“I’ve been teaching him some of our old tumbling tricks,” said Austine. “Seems a shame to let all those skills go to waste just because I’ve subscribed to the sedentary lifestyle.”
“Oh, trust me,” said Janine, squeezing his bicep. “There’s plenty of appreciation for the skills you picked up as a younger man.”
“Remember the time we took on that team of fake bandits, Damon?” asked Austine. “The ones led by the guy with the whip and the codpiece?”
They drank, and they reminisced, and Damon felt as drunk on old memories as he was on the ale. However, he was undeniably getting pretty drunk, and it took him longer than it should have to remember the meeting spot he’d arranged with Malon and the others.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “Do you have four open rooms I could rent for tonight?”
“On the house!” said Austine.
“He means half price,” corrected Janine. “We do need to keep a roof over our heads, no offense.”
“None taken,” said Damon. They could have charged him double, and he would have paid it with a smile.