The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [11]
A mop boy scurried over to the companions and offered to show them to a table, taking special notice of the pretty girl in their company. “May I take your owl, sirs?” he offered, trying not to look as if he had noticed Rose. “There’s a good spot in the stable behind, where he’ll be well looked after.”
Before any of them could reply, Archie opened his mouth. “I have very particular needs, boy. Are you prepared for a guest of my composition?”
John sighed. “He means he’s not a typical owl,” he explained as Rose and Charles both scowled at Archie. “He doesn’t really require the normal sort of food and shelter.”
“Well,” the boy said, “if it helps, there was a wizard here last week who brought a phoenix with him, and they seemed pretty happy when they left.”
“A wizard?” asked Jack. “Really?”
The boy nodded. “I forget his name—Bumble or Humble something-or-another. But I took excellent care of his phoenix.”
“This bird is, uh, not exactly natural,” said John.
“Ah,” the boy said. “A clockwork. We’ve had unusual birds before, and we’ll do our best to make him comfortable.”
“If that’s the case,” said Archie, “I want a copy of Einstein’s notes on relativity, and a stuffed gopher to chew on as I read.”
The boy squinted an eye and pondered this. “I can get you the Einstein notes, but only in German, unless you’ll be staying the night. And the only gophers we have are in the stew—but I can get you some mechanical mice instead.”
Archimedes beamed and hopped over to the boy’s outstretched arm. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
“Actually, my name’s Flannery.”
“Whatever you say, MacDuff.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said John.
They took seats around a table near the front corner, where they could watch the door and make use of it in a pinch. A stout, ginger-haired man in a floppy hat brought several mugs of ale over to the table.
“There are several such refuges throughout the world,” Ransom explained, gesturing around at the inn. “A good term for them might be ‘Soft Places,’ meaning places where the boundaries are not as solid as elsewhere, and where one might cross between them, with the right knowledge and training.”
“Is it luck or good planning that one of your Soft Places just happens to be a tavern?” asked John. “Not that I’m complaining in any way, mind you.”
“Not luck,” Ransom replied. “It’s essentially the power of the crossroads made manifest. A crossroads is important for what it represents, and what it in fact is—a junction between paths. Establishments such as the Inn of the Flying Dragon are much the same—junctions between places.”
“I’ve completely overlooked what may be the most appealing aspect of interdimensional travel,” Charles said jovially. “Are there more taverns like this, then?”
“A few,” said Ransom. “I’ve heard of one that’s supposed to be at the End of the World, but I can’t seem to locate it. All that’s on Terminus is a bunch of rocks and a gravestone.”
“Well, yes,” Jack harrumphed. “Where else?”
“There’s a nice place that was once called Harrigan’s Green, which is difficult to get to, but worth the trip. You can tell stories to pay for your room and board, so essentially, it’s merit-based. The best stories get the best room, and the best ale.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Charles, rising from his chair. “I’ll get the next round, gentlemen. Same for all?”
They all nodded. “And you, Rose?” Charles asked.
“I’d really like a glass of milk, thank you,” said Rose.
Ransom frowned for just an instant, then started to speak before John interrupted him.
“Pardon,” John said, turning to Rose. “I think Charles might need some help with the drinks. Would you be so kind as to give him a hand, Rose?”
“Of course,” the girl said cheerfully as she stood, pushing back her chair. “That will also give you and Uncle Jack the chance to ask Mr. Ransom why I make him so uncomfortable.”
“She’s a smart girl,” said Jack as Rose walked over to join Charles at the bar.
“More than smart,” said Ransom.
“So, since she brought it up,”