Hobb propped his head in his palm.

  “I know, I shouldn’t even have assumed you couldn’t slip through unnoticed,” he said, leaning closer again. “And where is this path, then?”

  Mest pondered the question, his expression weighed down with thought.

  “Forgive me, Hobb, but are you certain you truly want to know? I believe it’s safest if I don’t say. I wouldn’t want word to get out in any fashion, only for someone to decide it’s time for an adventure. I doubt anyone would stumble upon it on their own. Don’t misunderstand me, my friend — I’m not saying you’d spread it about — but people have a habit of letting slip an incautious word. As I said, no danger comes from there, I’m quite sure of it. Best to keep watching the wilds as you have so far, and all will be well.”

  For a while Hobb digested this in silence. Then he nodded, his face serious.

  “I understand what you’re saying, and I accept it. Still… I would rather you told me. Not because I doubt your judgement — if you say no danger lies there, I trust you without reservation. But what if one day we should need that path…?”

  Once again Mest rubbed his stubbled chin, thoughtful. For a few seconds he weighed his friend’s words in silence, then let out a quiet sigh.

  “I can’t deny it — you’re right. Very well. But I can’t explain it in words. I can draw it, at most. Do you have paper and ink?”

  “Of course.”

  Hobb pulled open a stiff, creaking drawer beneath the counter. After some rummaging, he set before Mest a slightly yellowed, creased sheet of paper, along with a small pot of ink holding a long bird’s quill.

  Mest took up the quill and began to draw swiftly. He worked for several minutes, sketching numerous small details: directions, markings, the outlines of distinctive stones and trees, pausing now and then to draw on his leaf. Some points he annotated with short, cramped notes; others he marked with numbers, their meaning explained on the reverse side of the page. All the while, Hobb kept a watchful eye on the patrons, lest anyone glimpse the map taking shape and grow curious. Mest blew gently over the page, the ink drying at once, then handed the finished work to Hobb. His friend scanned it in a moment, then folded it quickly.

  “By the look of it, the path truly is hard to find — even with a map.”

  “Put it somewhere you yourself will struggle to locate,” Mest said.

  “Understood, my friend. And thank you. I’ll keep it on me for now.” He slipped the many-folded paper deep into his vest pocket. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Let’s see… perhaps one thing. If the path leads the same way I came, it would help to know how to swim.”

  Hobb tapped a barrel thoughtfully, then poured himself a drink as well.

  “All this novelty and excitement needs washing down, even for me. To your health.”

  The wooden mugs knocked together with a dull thud. After a few swallows, Hobb let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

  “Ahh. That does the trick. It was odd, though, that none of the guards escorted you in. They’re usually suspicious of late arrivals. And you came from the forest, no less… no one ever comes from there. And you, on top of that, gather enough suspicion for a dozen men.”

  “Thank you,” Mest said dryly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  A bluish-white flash lit the room, followed shortly by a long, rolling peal of thunder. The din in the inn faded somewhat; murmurs of surprise drifted from the tables. Mest let out a quiet sigh.

  “I thought the rain had already soaked me thoroughly — but it seems the worst is only just beginning.”

  Hobb shook his head, displeased.

  “That’s strange… and unsettling.”

  “What troubles you?”

  The mood in the inn had noticeably dulled. The patrons watched uneasily as the light from the street lamps danced across the windows. Outside, the storm grew fiercer with every passing moment.

  “We almost always have mild, spring-like weather here,” Hobb said. “A light shower now and then, nothing more — it passes quickly, then the sun comes out and you get rainbows like in a fairy tale. That’s why our harvests are so plentiful. The last time we had a storm like this was before life improved here… and that worries me. I don’t wish to see the old days return.”

  Mest rested his chin in his hand.

  “Where I came from, it was only drizzling — by the time I arrived, I was soaked through. I will say, the clouds rolling in from the east were unusually dark, and it’s been a long while since I saw lightning reach so far. It’ll be quite a downpour.”

  Hobb shook his head again.

  “Do you have any idea why this is happening? It’s never been like this before… why now?”

  Mest released a plume of smoke, watching it drift away.

  “No idea.”

  “Damn this rain,” Hobb muttered, scrubbing a mug with more force than necessary.

  They fell silent for a time. Mest gazed at the faint glow of embers at the end of his leaf. It was nearly burned out when a small flame flared suddenly, casting a yellow reflection in his eye. Once more, silky smoke traced a thin path toward the ceiling.

  “Tell me, Mest,” Hobb said at last, “how do you always find your way? How did you make it back here — from who knows where? And by roads unknown even to you?”

  “Sixth sense,” Mest replied flatly.

  “That too is like all that fresh air, is it?” Hobb waved his cloth again. “One can never learn anything from you.”

  Mest chuckled softly.

  “I’ll admit, this time luck had a hand in it as well. I was heading here anyway, though I would’ve had to take quite a long detour. That little back way came at just the right moment… though I did have to scratch my head for a while before I figured out where I’d ended up.”

  “Mhm, I see,” Hobb said. “An unfamiliar path tempted you more than keeping to the road and getting here safely. Who knows where you might’ve surfaced, had things gone badly.”

  “Don’t take it personally, old friend,” Mest replied. “You know how I am. Curiosity twists my head around, and I end up diving into every dark hole just to see where it leads. You can imagine how pleased I was when I realised it led straight here.”

  The rain began to drum more loudly against the walls. Thunder rolled again overhead. Though the mood had noticeably softened, curious murmurs could still be heard from several tables.

  “How is your little girl, Hobb?”

  “Thank you for asking—very well. And she’s not a little girl anymore… she’s grown so much…”

  For a few moments he stared only into the candle flame. The shadows on his face stretched almost imperceptibly.

  “I owe you an eternal debt. I don’t know what would have become of her without you. That is—I do know… I do…”

  Then he called out into the room.

  “Anne, come here for a moment, please!”

  The young woman who had been bustling between the tables hurried over to the counter. After setting down the dishes she carried, she stepped closer. She looked to be nearing twenty. Over her simple shirt and trousers she wore a slightly worn apron to keep her clothes from being stained. Strands of her light-brown hair fell across her pretty face, and when she brushed them back, they slipped forward again like the drooping branches of a willow over a sky-blue lake.

  “My dear, you were so absorbed in your work you didn’t even notice who the wind has blown back to us. Or have you truly forgotten your brother Mest already? It’s true he hasn’t been here in years—last time you were very ill—but you must remember him from when you were younger. You met often enough.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  For the length of a slow breath, Anne could only stare at him in astonishment. Then, with a joyful cry, she threw her arms around his neck so suddenly that they nearly toppled over with the chair.

  “How could I forget? I thought you’d never come back!”

  “How could I not?” Mest said warmly, trying to ease her back onto her feet as she clung to him.

  “I’m happy to see you too. It must have been a long time—I almost didn’t recognize you myself. Now gently, you’re going to strangle me.”

  Anne loosened her grip and looked up at him.

  “It’s been six years. So long… I never even had the chance to thank you.”

  “For what? Don’t be silly. I’m glad I could heal you—and even happier to see how wonderfully healthy you are now.”

  Anne smiled softly. She placed her hand over his and met his gaze.

  “Thank you…”

  Time seemed to pause around the counter, lingering on the three of them for a heartbeat. The din of the inn blurred into a distant hum. A bittersweet warmth tightened Hobb’s chest.

  “I thank you as well.”

  Mest drew Anne into a gentle embrace and stroked her hair.

  “Before people start talking, you should help your father with the guests. I’ll be staying a few days—there’ll be plenty of time later for the three of us to talk. You can tell me what’s happened here while I was away, and I’ll tell you where I’ve wandered. In the end you might even grow tired of my stories.”

  “That’ll never happen,” Anne laughed, then narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  She hugged him again, more gently this time.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe—and that you’ve come back to us. Come more often. Not every six years. We miss you.”

  “I will. I promise. We’ll talk soon.”

  She lingered a moment longer, her eyes shining, then hurried back to the tables.

  The young boy helping with the serving approached her hesitantly to ask something. After a few exchanged words, his lips clearly formed a stunned question even from across the room.

  “Brother?”

  He stared toward the counter, his gaze meeting Mest’s. Flushing crimson, he immediately began tidying a table. Mest smiled faintly.

  “She doesn’t dress particularly femininely.”

  “Well, no,” Hobb laughed.

  “Not that she lacks the opportunity. But it’s no bad thing she’s got a bit of a lad’s spirit in her, rather than turning into some delicate little lady.”

  “Is her leg all right?” Mest asked, watching the way Anne walked.

  Hobb’s thoughts drifted back to his daughter.

  “Neither better nor worse. I didn’t want her helping in the inn, but she insisted. Came down on her own, and there was no sending her away. People love her—you can’t help it. She still calls you ‘big brother,’ you know. Do you remember what you used to call her when she was little?”

  Mest hummed softly, still watching Anne.

  “Of course. Hairpin. She was tiny, skinny—and when she didn’t like something, she could glare so sharply even the roughest tavern brawlers would falter.”

  “That’s the truth!” Hobb laughed heartily.

  Mest’s brow furrowed.

  “There are many new faces here… Has there been trouble?”

  “No. She always wears the earring you gave her back then, so there’s no problem. She adores it—says it reminds her of you. And if anyone ever does cause trouble…”

  Hobb reached beneath the counter; something thudded heavily below.

  “I haven’t forgotten how to handle a two-hander.”

  He leaned on the bar, eyes lowered.

  “Every day I wonder if she shouldn’t have grown up here. I know there were reasons—we decided together—but still… maybe she’d have a happier life. Maybe she wouldn’t have to hide herself.”

  “Hobb…”

  “That cursed illness of hers came from my blood,” he clenched his teeth.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t say it,” Mest cut in sharply, his gaze stern.

  “What would she feel hearing that? She loves you with her whole heart. And I know you gave her every care a child could receive. This was the right choice. The past cannot be changed—and the future, at times, is not meant to be. You could return, you know that—but think carefully. She might not be happier anywhere else. Nor you. Is it worth tormenting yourself over this? Make peace with yourself.”

  A deep sigh shook Hobb’s chest.

  “I give thanks every day that I was able to give her a good life… and that she’s healthy. And yes—you’re right.”

  His gaze wandered into the distance. As he drifted through memories wrapped in dreamlike haze—sad, yet beautiful—the shadows deepened along his lined face. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

  “Damn your smoke… it always drifts this way.”

  Mest smiled with quiet bitterness. He knew where his friend’s thoughts had gone. Not only knew—but understood. He drew once more on the leaf, then pressed its tip beside the candle. The ember hissed and died.

  He tapped the counter lightly.

  “Old friend, let’s drink to both your health. Provided you’ll pour us another of that magnificent spirit you so ingeniously call ‘spirit.’”

  He coughed, as if to blame the smoke.

  “Of course—of course! You’re right.”

  His good humor returned.

  “Who knows when I’ll next drink with you, damn your mocking hide!”

  He poured them each a respectable measure.

  Mest stood. They met each other’s gaze—warm, yet solemn—paying silent tribute to the years gone by, and raised their cups.

  “To you, Hobb — and to many more years of good health for you both.”

  “And to your safe return—many times yet, my friend.”

  The small cups clinked together. This time they did not hurry, did not down the strong drink in one breath as custom dictated. They savored the rare moment. A gentle warmth spread through their bodies—and their hearts. They set the cups down softly.

  Hobb smacked his lips in satisfaction.

  “So—tell me. Where have you been all this time?”

  Mest sat back down and carefully began rolling another leaf. He took his time, making his friend wait as Hobb tapped the counter patiently. When the little creation was finished, Mest leaned back and drew deeply, watching the smoke drift toward the ceiling like wind-tossed clouds. He sighed as one reconciled with life.

  “Here and there. I told Anne—we’ll trade stories when the three of us are together.”

  Hobb frowned and continued tapping.

  “What do you expect of me? That I sum it all up in a few minutes? I’ll tell you when there’s time.”

  Hobb grunted.

  “I feel like I’ve turned into a pipe myself. Fine—have it your way. But you are truly staying a while, yes?”

  “Only a few days. Two or three.”

  “So little?”

  “You know I can’t stay in one place long.”

  “I know… I just hoped you’d stay longer. Still—those days are more than nothing. And you will tell me everything. I’ve a mind for a bit of nostalgia—and six years is a long time.”

  He poured ale for two young men who had drifted up to the counter, likely hired swords escorting a merchant. On other days he’d gladly chat with travelers, but tonight he didn’t wish them lingering near the barrels. He returned quickly.

  “So what did you bring in that big pack of yours? If I may ask.”

  Mest pulled his mouth to one side.

  “Mostly dirt and grime. And you know — the usual things you need just to get by. Torn clothes, worn-out junk, what passes for food, now mostly spoiled, stale water… The only things that might still be worth anything are a few battered plants. Everything else I’ve long since used up or sold. Not everyone is as generous as you when it comes to food and lodging—especially with wanderers like me. If I were truly cynical—and we both know my bones are made of kindness—I’d say some even ask more than customary, as a subtle hint that I’m paying not just for their goods, but for their silence. So even when I earn a few silvers, I go bald quickly.”

  Hobb gestured at the bottles and food.

  “As I said—while you’re here, you eat, drink, and sleep as much as you like. You’re my guest.”

  He grinned slyly.

  “Might even be worth staying a few extra days.”

  Jasu leaned heavily on his table and tried to stand again, clearly trusting its four legs more than his own two.

  “I heard with half an ear that the beggar here doesn’t have to pay.” His voice sounded as if he’d swallowed a rusty file and an iron pot, both still scraping away inside his throat. “Why do I have to pay? Can’t I not pay? Or do I just get a proper damn chewing-out, Hobb?

  He finally straightened, revealing a fine, well-built young man. Not bulky, but his lean muscles spoke of honest labor. Somewhere in his mid-twenties. He lifted his bare, angular face and turned to the room, arms spread as if addressing a crowd.

  “Why do I—” he hiccupped, “—we have to pay, when the rag-picker gets everything free?”

  “Shut up, Jasu!” someone called.

  “Hobb treats whom he likes—it’s his inn!”

  Several voices echoed agreement.

  “Don’t take your anger out on that poor soul!” someone else snapped.

  “Have you drunk away the rest of your sense?”

  Anne’s voice rang out nearby.

  “Jasu, you know I’m just as sorry about what happened as everyone else—but please don’t be a crude oaf. Especially not with him.”

  Whether Jasu ignored the words deliberately or simply failed to process them was unclear. Either way, they had no effect.

  “Why doesn’t the filthy one have to pay?”

  Mest continued to sit with his back to the scene, unconcerned, loudly and ostentatiously drinking yet another mug of free ale—smacking and belching contentedly. Hobb’s patience, however, visibly wore thin. His neck and shoulders tensed like stone.

  He slammed his fist into the counter. The heavy wood groaned in pain. In that moment it was clear that his arms still held enough strength to rival three grown men.

  “You never know when to shut your mouth,” he growled, brows drawing dangerously close.

  “So I’ll tell you. Now. While I’m still asking nicely.”

  He took a few deep breaths; his voice softened slightly.

  “Jasu… don’t we have enough troubles as it is? Don’t you have enough worries? Does it help to pick fights with strangers? Is this truly necessary?”

  Jasu opened his mouth, raised a finger—then looked at Hobb. He lowered the finger, closed his mouth, and sank back into his chair, retreating into the gloomy shadow of his table.

  “My apologies, Mest,” Hobb sighed.

  “He’s not usually like this.”

  “Mmh,” Mest acknowledged, idly tasting the leaf at his lips.

  “I’m not saying he’s never been rude, but he’s not a bad lad. Big heart, honest. Just unlucky of late. And not long before you arrived, some strange fellow manhandled him a bit — so now that’s been gnawing at his pride as well.”

  “Well then,” Mest said quietly,

  “tell me what happened…”

  Strange folk come and go. Best to let them do so.