The Retired Abyss Innkeeper-Chapter 45: The Room Was Already Having a Bad Morning. She Made It About Herself

Chapter 45: The Room Was Already Having a Bad Morning. She Made It About Herself

She came through the door fully. The rest came in behind her. They spread out without saying a word, like they’d rehearsed it.

One headed straight for the guild bench side. He pulled out the chair of a man already sitting there and sat down. The man stood up. I don’t think he decided to stand. His body just did it. He stayed there beside his own chair like he’d forgotten the next step.

Another went toward the hearth end. She studied the chairs for a while. Then she moved one. Looked at it. Moved another.

The third stayed just inside the door. He looked at the room the way someone looks at a room they’re already planning to rearrange.

The council chair had been in the middle of a sentence. It stopped.

Every head in the room turned.

"Excuse me," the council chair said.

She walked to the counter.

"I said excuse me."

She reached the counter and looked at me. The man from the doorway had followed two steps behind her before stopping. He looked at the back of her head. Then he looked at the room.

"My house requires accommodation," she said. "The best available."

"Right," I said. "The north corridor has three rooms, but they’re all occupied tonight. I’ve got a long-term resident working on the second floor and two guests who just came back from an expedition, so that side’s full. The east wing has its own arrangements. I’d been planning to extend the north corridor, but it runs straight into the east wing and the architecture there has... opinions about being altered. After the second time I had the framing marked out and the east wing expressed its feelings about the matter, I decided to wait until the current renovation finished. Inside the week the second floor opens and there’ll be room for everyone."

She looked at me.

"So there are no rooms."

"For tonight."

"The most prestigious address in this city has no rooms."

"I wouldn’t quite put it that way," I said. "The second floor’s going to be very good once it’s done. In the meantime the common room has excellent seating, and I can arrange something comfortable—"

"I’ll stay in the common room."

She said it the way someone says they’ll manage with the second carriage.

"That works," I said, opening the ledger. "Good chair near the hearth end. Actually—"

I looked across the room. One of her three had already moved that chair. It still worked where it was. I noted it.

She turned around. Nobody had asked her to.

"So none of you have sorted this out yet."

Not a question.

"We were in the middle of a formal—" the council chair began.

She looked directly at him.

"Your collar is crooked. The left side." Then she looked around the room. "Are you genuinely incapable of managing your own appearance, or is that a preview of how you manage everything else."

He stopped.

"My house’s territory surrounds three sides of your eastern ward," she said. "Your city arrived there weeks ago. I can see now why and you’re all still arguing about it."

She looked around the room again.

"You’re a ridiculous mess."

All three of her people looked at the room at the same moment. The one near the guild bench. The one at the hearth end. The one still just inside the door. Same expression, same angle of the head, three different parts of the room.

The council chair touched his collar.

Then he realized he had touched his collar.

His face went through several expressions in quick succession.

A second council member rose from his chair. Very tall. He had the careful permanent hunch of someone who’d spent years trying not to impose on furniture.

She looked at him.

"Sit down. You’ve spent your entire life apologizing for taking up space and you’re still doing it. It’s exhausting to look at."

He blinked, then unconsciously sat down.

"How dare—" the council chair said, his voice climbing into an entirely new register. "You walked past this entire body without acknowledgment. Your people displaced seated members. You have made personal remarks to elected officials in the middle of a civic session. In my entire life of public service and I have never—"

"Your entire life," she said, "and the city drifted into someone’s front yard and nobody thought to confirm it. Yes. That explains quite a lot about the joke you are."

"That is completely—"

"Finally someone with eyes about this inefficiency," the guild representative said from his bench.

The council chair turned on him. She looked at the guild representative.

At his coat.

"What a poor excuse of a coat," she said. "The tailor sold you something that almost works." She paused. "Seems to be a recurring theme."

He looked down at his coat.

"How long have you been making your case in this room?" she asked.

"All morning."

"And before that."

"Years."

"Years of, presumably, being right," she said, "and you’re still standing here. I’ve known furniture that made more of an impression."

His mouth opened. Then he closed it.

I really needed chairs. So I went to the cellar.

Four in the back section. The fourth had a loose dowel from when the city floated and everything shifted. Not bringing that upstairs.

Three chairs came up with me. The fourth stayed. I’d fix it tonight. Or some night.

The room was louder when I came back than when I left.

I said excuse me to the council chair. He was mid-sentence again. He stopped. I passed him. He resumed at the same volume.

The hearth chairs had moved again. The council member from the corner was now on his third location. The guild bench man was still standing beside his own chair while the entourage member sitting on it explained, conversationally, how her house accounted for acoustics when arranging seating.

He was nodding. He was also still standing.

The guild representative straightened up.

"Two hundred and forty years in the Abyss," he said, "and nobody has heard of House Vaskareth. That is a remarkable record for a house that expects to be consulted."

The room went one degree quieter.

She looked at him.

"You’ve spent years telling this council they’re incompetent. They’re still in charge. You’re still here telling them." She paused. "Which of us has the problem with being heard."

His mouth opened. The council chair did not laugh.

It was very close.

Kern hadn’t moved from the east wall all morning.

"City’s in her territory," he said. "House wasn’t notified. That’s the actual problem."

She turned and looked at him fully.

"You." She pointed. "Finally." Then she looked at the room. "Why isn’t he running this."

"Because this is a civic governance matter and the garrison—" someone started.

"Yes. I understand," she said. "That’s the problem."

She looked back at Kern.

"When this is resolved, my house has an opening for someone who understands what’s happening."

Kern said nothing.

"Think about it."

She had noticed Renner’s notebook.

"Is that a permanent record," she asked.

"It can be cited."

She looked at the notebook. Then at Renner.

"Write this down," she said. "House Vaskareth was not notified of the city’s arrival in our territory. This is a formal insult. We consider it unresolved."

He wrote it.

"Write that the council’s response upon being informed of this insult was to argue about whether we had standing to call it one."

His pen slowed.

Then he wrote it. He looked down at what he’d written. Then at her. Then back at the page.

"Good," she said.

"You cannot instruct someone to write things about this body into a record," the council chair said.

"It’s in the record," Renner said.

"Remove it."

"I’ve noted the request."

The council chair looked at him for a long moment. Then he sat back down.

Three separate arguments were running now. The council chair had one. Two members were talking over him with their own. The guild representative was making his own points to anyone who would listen.

The merchant had completely given up on his deed question.

She continued through all of it. When someone raised their voice at her, she just looked at them and waited.

"You cannot simply—"

"I did, though."

"This is outrageous."

"You’ve said that."

"I’ll say it again."

"I know."

One of her three spoke from the hearth end.

"Innkeeper. The pie."

"Yes."

"We’ll have some."

I cut the pie. Cut myself a slice while I was there. The entourage member tasted hers. She looked at her superior.

"It’s good."

She looked at me.

"Your pie is acceptable."

"I appreciate that," I said. "The crust was the main project this time. The oven’s developed opinions about its lower register since the city floated, so I’ve been doing rounds trying to locate where it’s settled. The result ended up somewhere between what I was aiming for and what I got, but the base held better than expected. Next batch should be more consistent once I’ve confirmed the new temperature."

She was looking at me.

She had been waiting for the sentence to end.

"...Yes," she said.

Then she turned back to the room.

I finished my slice. The base had held well.

I put the cloth back over what was left and updated the ledger. Common room tonight. Second floor inside the week. Added the loose dowel. Added the second floor timing with a line to the room count.

The new arrival had the best chair near the hearth end. Wherever it currently was. Her tail swept slowly across the floorboards. She had her pie. She watched the room.

The short, well-dressed guest at table two had been watching everything since before she arrived.

Nobody in the argument had yet noticed them.

The argument continued.

[SYSTEM LOG]

Formal Grievance Filed

Party: House Vaskareth

Nature: territorial trespassing, city displacement

Status: active, unresolved

New guest logged. Common room arrangement, one night. Second floor accommodation pending, inside the week