Chapter 13

Frustrated and uneasy, she couldn't fall back asleep after that. She lit the lantern next to her bed and got dressed, washing her face and pinning her hair up after applying a light amount of rouge to her cheeks and lips. Even if the world itself were to end today, she was not about to forget those little things that made her who she was. She did, however, put on a longer skirt so that she could wear more comfortable shoes for the day. Her feet still felt mildly swollen from being on them all day in rather unsensible footwear the day before, and she had no plans to make that mistake again. She tightened the laces on her bodice as much as she could before loosening the topmost ones just a bit. She bounced up and down a bit before tying the bow, to be sure she wouldn't actually fall out of the bodice unintentionally, but situated her bosom so it loooked as if it could at any moment. Her inn was due to be full of a bunch of temporarily boatless sailors today, she knew, and she planned to do her best to see that they spent a little money while being allowed the rooms themselves for free. She grabbed a light shawl and pinned it so it hung loosely over her shoulders, as the morning air was feeling chilly on her bare arms. One last survey in the mirror assured her that she looked as she usually might, before she headed out to try and get an early start on the daily morning routines.

Her first stop, since she had extra time, was to check her desk. She tallied up the numbers from the previous day, noting that the more bad news had been in the air, the more business she seemed to have gotten despite her own absence at the inn. Pleased with the numbers, which proved higher than the usual off-season intake, she tucked the contents of the drawer away in the metal safe she kept hidden in an alcove beneath the stairs. Only two others knew where it was, and she trusted them. The rest knew, however, that she kept track of the numbers regularly, and she'd hardly had any problems with thievery over the years. She closed the books, marking the date and her initials on the final tally, before replacing them in their drawer, and setting everything up for that day's trade.

Her next stop was in the kitchens, where she found her cook, Genla, already pulling out the bacon, eggs, and other such items to start cooking breakfast. It was nearing on sun-up, and Marcus sat silently on the back stairs, just outside the open door, polishing his boots. He gave her his usual nod as she entered the room, and she smiled and returned the gesture.

"Good morning, you two! Ready for another chaotic day?" she asked, keeping her voice bright and cheery.

Marcus gave the tossing of his head that was his version of laughter before setting a boot down on the floor with a final-sounding thud. Genla put her hands on her hips and looked back at Mary. She looked a bit lost.

"What's the matter, Genla? Kind of early for that, isn't it?"

"What's the matter? Well, I see you've got your humor about you already this morning." The look she leveled at Mary made her feel like she was about to be scolded for something. Mary reminded herself that it was actually her kitchen, and not Genla's, although that had been argued before.

"We've never been this crowded before, Mar', past capacity." Mary never liked it when Genla called her that. Usually it meant she was frustrated about something she didn't want to talk about. Usually she did anyway.

"I'm unaccustomed to cooking for this many. And what's more, this one breakfast is going to clean us out of a few things. Eggs, for one. And you know what that means," she said, gesturing at Mary with an egg.

"Jacob..."

"Jacob Bentz. You know how much I despise that weasel." Another boot went thud on the floor. Mary wondered if it was his way of punctuating the statement by way of agreement.

The egg in Genla's hand cracked. She looked down at it, startled. She started to say something, but the words never got out. She dropped the egg and it hit wood the countertop. What happened then was all wrong.

The egg did not splatter, but rather just broke. A...thing wriggled out of the shell. It was dark gray or black or brown. It had bits of fur in some places the way that a dead animal found in the woods could still have some fur left here and there. Bits of bone showed: white skull around a malformed black eye.

It opened its hooked beak and a tiny forked tongue sampled the air. Fleshless, too-small wings stretched. It squawked at them, an ugly noise that seemed part crow and part toad.

Mary found herself feeling oddly detached, after the events of the day before. She marvelled a moment at the horrified screams of Genla. Genla never screamed, but she was wailing at the top of her lungs as the remaining basket of eggs on the countertop started wiggling and cracking. She backed away and got up on a chair, despite the fact that the things were on the counter, and not on the floor. Marcus had stood up in the doorway and surveyed the situation, though Mary wasn't in a position to tell what the look on his face was. She pulled herself together as she saw the first "hatchling" waving its wings to dry them. She'd be damned if she was going to let one of them try to fly in her inn.

Mary moved to the large wood-burning stove on one wall of the kitchen and snatched the largest of the heavy iron skillets that Genla had laid out to cook the eggs in. She turned and heaved it heavily down on top of the first of the critters. She heard a sickly, wet crunch along with the hard banging noise of the metal edge striking the thick wooden counter. As she lifted the pan to see the damage, two more of them wriggled their way out of their shells and rolled out onto the counter. Mary realized suddenly that the large basket on the counter probably had as many as sixty eggs carefully stacked in it. She looked at Marcus, who had already grabbed another of the frying pans and swung it down on the nearest of the two. He nodded at her, one eyebrow raised. He left her to contend with the other hatchling, and some others that scattered out, as he grabbed up the basket and ran outside with it.

Mary grabbed his discarded frypan in her other hand, and took turns smashing the tiny beasts with each of them. She heard more screaming added to Genla's, and realized that some of the girls had come down to see what was happening. She sighed and rolled her eyes before tracking down the last couple of croaking beasts and flattening them into the floor. She stood there for a moment, with the frypans still in her hands, dripping with the remains of the miniature invaders, as the women around her wailed and cried.

"QUIET!!!" She yelled suddenly, at the top of her lungs. After a few seconds the room quieted down to only a few quiet whimpers.

"Now then," she cleared her throat to make sure they were paying attention, "you girls can help Genla get this mess cleaned up so that breakfast can be cooked. I'll go and help Marcus with the other forty-some-odd eggs that are trying to hatch tiny demons on him. After the eggs are gone, I don't think there's anything left to be 'born' per se, so I think you can rest easy that there will be no more demonic visitors. But you'd all better get a better grip on yourselves, as I need you at your most level-headed over the next few days. Understood?" She waited to see Genla and most of the girls nod before hefting the frypans in her hands and heading out the back door to find out what Marcus had done with the other beasts.

She found Marcus by the firepit that they used during outside festivals, to cook spitted pigs and the like. Sometimes they also used it to burn leaves and debris that wasn't right for use in the stove or fireplaces, and it was reasonably full of a variety of combustable items at the moment. He'd placed the basket in the center, and lit the edges. He stood vigil over it, grabbing any of the creatures that managed to leap out beyond the flames, and flinging it hard back into the fire. She was very glad the pit was downwind of the inn, as she already sensed that it would start smelling awful very shortly.

She wondered if the fire was big enough and hot enough. She looked around for something to use as a poker. She wanted to make sure that the things were all dead. She needed to make sure. Another one hopped out of the pit, looking worse for the fire, but not worse enough. Marcus smashed it with a log waiting to be split.

Agmar must not have thought of eggs. I guess I can understand that. None of these eggs should even be capable of this. These aren't eggs that were ready to hatch... She hefted the skillets, comforted by the iron weight in her hands.

Then she saw one fly unsteadily out of the flames. It flew weakly, uncertainly. It was burning, and it made a shriek that hurt her ears. For an instant she stood frozen, not having expected them to be able to fly so quickly. They were undeveloped eggs yesterday, why be surprised by anything now?

She whacked it with a skillet as if it were a racket of some kind. The metal made a satisfying, resounding clang against the creature. The thing flew on a new course. It arced and landed with a flop. It was at least broken. Marcus ran over and stomped it with his boot. It stopped burning and did not move.

Mary heard screams from other nearby buildings. Hers were not the only eggs perverted by evil. It must be happening everywhere. Believe Agmar now?

Her heart stopped when more flaming evil started flapping their way out of the pit. She envisioned the firey critters landing on thatch roofs throughout the city. What have we done? "Marcus, stop them!"

She smacked another one, hitting it with a downward stroke that sent it smashing to the ground. None of them seemed able to fly very high or for long. She chased another one, screaming out for help.

Marcus turned and ran towards the shed at a breakneck pace, as Mary continued to try and swat them down as they came. Some didn't make it more than a foot or two away from the fire before tumbling to the ground, and Mary found herself stomping on them as well as the small fires they were starting in the drier patches of grass. She found that she did better with just one frypan, using both hands to hold it, as the cast iron skillets were heavy to swing around at such a pace. As she swatted another down, she had one swoop drunkenly past her head, squawking loudly. It hit low on the wall of the inn, before falling into one of the flowergarden beds.

Mary ran to the wall and stamped it into the dirt, surveying the scene by the pit to determine which was the next biggest threat. Marcus came back from the shed just then, with a large section of chickenwire mesh, some spikes and a hammer. She ran and tried to smash as many of the loose demon-chicks while he threw the mesh over the fire and nailed the spikes around to keep it down, and the creatures underneath it. He then went and grabbed up the shovel that often rested against the wall of the shed and brought it back to start smashing the back of it down upon the screeching mass of evil that tried to peck its way out of the fire, through the mesh.

Amazingly, a couple of them managed to pull themselves out from underneath, though they were bloody from the effort. Mary put an end to them with her frypan, while choking from the smoke and stench that was surrounding the fire. She realized suddenly that the fire wasn't downwind of the inn at the moment - the wind had shifted from its usual pattern. She coughed, and held part of her sleeve over her mouth and nose as she scoured the scene for any more escapees.

After their small bonfire had ceased its wailing, Marcus stopped beating it with the shovel. The effort had put the fire out as well, but the charred bodies still seemed to smoke and that stench was much worse than Mary had anticipated - somewhere between burning flesh, death, decay, and feces. She tried hard to keep her composure, but when Marcus turned and retched she found herself on her knees next, heaving out the remnants of everything she had eaten the day before. Once she had emptied herself of anything that could possibly come back up, she moved quickly upwind of the fire.

It did not seem to matter where she went. The smell was everywhere. Marcus used the shovel to collect up the crushed and broken remains and pile them together.

Suddenly Nara burst out of the little house next to the barn. She swatted frantically at flying forms catching up her hair like bats might. She was running aimlessly, clearly panicked.

Marcus stepped forward, shovel raised. For just an instant Mary wondered whether the shovel had been for the flying things or for Nara. The two had had some fight a year back, and had been angry towards each other since. Nara refused to discuss it, and Marcus just couldn't. Some important things he'd write down for her, but on that matter he never did more than shake his head solemnly

Mary raised a hand to ward off Marcus and ran over to help. Nara tripped over a rain barrel in her blind running. Little claws and tiny talons grabbed at whatever they could grab--hair or dress or skin. There were close to a dozen, although Mary did not take the time to count them. Nara shrieked like a little girl who had just kicked open a hornets' nest.

When Mary got there Nara was rolling to and fro as if she were on fire. The shrieking had not abated any. Somehow Mary still had the gory skillet in one hand. She had the presence of mind to know to be careful with it, so she held off using it.

She kicked instead. Her first kick swung through open air and nearly threw her off balance. Her second try connected with one little hell-spawn, which bounced off a wall. One of the things hopped up towards her next. By reflex she swatted it with the skillet, and it impacted the wall hard enough to leave a spattery mark on it. Nara managed to fling one away from her, and Mary saw it land in the fire barrel with a splash.

Mary heard the thing floundering about in the water and ignored it for the moment as she used her free hand to try and pull another one off of Nara. They seemed to have suddenly migrated together, as chickens might cluster in to get at fresh feed that had been laid out on the ground for them, and Mary saw blood as they tore and pecked at Nara's neck. Nara's screams became even more terrible as Mary desperately tried to tear the things off of her, ditching the frypan altogether so she could pull with both hands.

She managed to get one free, and saw bits of blood and flesh dangling from its beak and talons before she flung it at the wall as hard as she could. It seemed as if it had hit with a hard enough thud, but she saw it struggling to get back to Nara as she grabbed for the next one.

Mary's fingers were slick with blood by this point, and she had a hard time getting a firm enough hold on the things. Marcus had dropped the shovel and with an angry frown he came to help, pulling another of the demons off of her and smashing it to the ground.

They continued to work, fighting both the tiny creatures and Nara's flailing to get them off of her, when suddenly Mary felt warmth pour over her fingers as blood flowed freely from Nara's neck. The chick-things seemed become frenzied with the blood and pecked into it with more vigor. Mary tried to find the wound with her fingers, to stop the blood flow, as Nara's screams became gurgling gasps.

Mary looked over at Nara's face, as the woman started choking, and saw that blood was coming out of her nose, and she was coughing it up as well.

"No!" Mary screamed, returning to her efforts, and pulling another of the beasts free of Nara. She kept pulling them off and flinging them as hard as she could, until Nara suddenly stopped fighting and went limp. Mary felt a wave of sadness and helplessness rush over her as she looked at Nara's face. Her eyes were glassed over and her face was slack, as a small pool of blood grew beneath her as it slowly flowed from her nose and the corner of her mouth.

Mary sobbed, and sat back, knowing it was too late. After taking a moment to close Nara's eyes, she grabbed up the frypan again and did her best to try and aim away from Nara's face as she smashed the beasts feasting upon her opened neck. She then searched down every last one they had flung from her, including the one trying to climb its way out of the barrel, and smashed it flat into the ground, angrily.

Marcus sat down heavily. He looked frustrated, his shoulders heaving with a great sigh. The skillet finally grew too heavy for Mary's exhausted arms and slipped from her slick fingers. She could hear other screams and more commotion in the distance.

Several girls had come out to investigate. Some of them clutched robes about them, not having quite finished dressing for the day. A group of sailors came out, too, looking confused and uncertain.

"Come on, lads, thar be trouble 'round 'ere. Let's go lend a hand. Move yer selves!" their captain said. They went off in three groups of four, each group in a different direction.

Mary watched them go. Where were they just minutes ago? She sighed.

Eventually Genla came out. "By all that's holy, what in the gods' good earth was that?" She was shaking and pale.

"That, dear Genla," Mary began, getting gradually to her feet, "was just a hint of the evil that Agmar has been warning us about." She stopped a moment to stretch her arms. "I hope people'll be a bit more charitable to him now. I don't want to think about the chaos if he hadn't warned us."

Marcus finally stood up, a determined look taking over. He checked for movement in the fire pit and ripped the chickenwire off. He marched back inside the inn. The door closed loudly behind him.

Mary turned and looked at Genla. "Oh, my," was all the cook had to say. The sounds of chaos quieted down some around them. The girls started to head inside, the less dressed ones heading in first.

"Hosef!" Mary suddenly remembered that the last she'd heard he was still in bed, unconscious from the loss of blood. Apparently he'd taken more damage from a broken rib puncturing one of his organs than the bite the horse-demon had taken out of him. She rushed into their little house, and searched the rooms, looking for Hosef, or signs of more demonic hatchlings. She did find three hatchlings feasting on the dead corpse of Nara's cat in the front room, and she grabbed up the small iron fireplace shovel and beat them until they no longer moved.

She kept hold of the shovel as she continued to search, but was relieved to find Hosef asleep in the bed. His complextion looked pale and sickly, but it appeared as if none of the tiny demons had made it to the bedroom. She took a blanket from the linen chest at the end of their bed, and checked his pulse, before leaving the room. She closed the bedroom door to keep anything else that might happen by away from him. Mary took the neatly folded blanket outside, and gently unfolded it over Nara's still form.

She stood and listened for a moment, but it seemed as if most of the commotion had died down for now. She went back inside the inn and washed her hands before calling her staff into the kitchen, ignoring the blood that had already managed to make dark stains on her dress. Genla was already cooking bacon and ham for breakfast, and had set one of the girls to work stirring a large pot of oatmeal. Mary peered briefly into the pot, noting that it looked thin but would pass well enough as nourishment. She resolved to speak with Jacob Bentz herself, instead of having Genla tend to it. She'd need Genla here. Mary cleared her throat and turned towards the small sea of nervous faces that made up the majority of her staff. Some were more hardened than others, though, and she noted these as she spoke.

"What just happened is only a small piece of what we can expect today and tomorrow. Although there will likely be no more demons to contend with, there will be other troubles, many of which we can't predict. We need to be able to roll with the punches here, ladies. Those people staying in our inn need to see us as having as much as possible under our control. Some of them will be worried, and even frightened. In that regard, keep in mind, there is potential for all of you to make a little extra money this year from it. If you can keep your own fears in hand and distract them from theirs well enough, you might find yourselves making a few extra regular customers too." She paused a moment, letting that sink in for those amongst her girls who seemed to be only concerned with the monetary aspect of the business.

"However, ladies, it's not just the sailors staying with us that will need our help. We have a chance here, to show the rest of this town what we're really made of. Those who might consider us bad people just because we offer - for a modest fee - a little comfort to the hard-working men that travel to this town, may be singing a different tune afterwards when they see us pitching in to help wherever we can. So, let's keep our wits about us, our fear in check, and show this town what kind of friends they've been missing by turning their noses up at us, yes?" She saw determined looks on many of the girls, but not quite as many as she had hoped for. She pressed further.

"I'm just as scared as the rest of you, don't get me wrong, but we've seen bad things happen before. Most of you have ended up here because you didn't have anywhere else to go, or you were running from something. Most of you have a hard or dark past you've left behind you to start a new life here. And it has been better here, than it is in the places you come from. I know. I came from there myself. But the people in this town have a hard time accepting what we do here, and some of them have spoken harshly. Most may think of us as nothing more than whores. Show them they're wrong. Show them how much love we're capable of giving, if they'd only let us in." She saw small smiles grow on the faces of some particular girls she was trying to reach, and she smiled back and nodded, touching each of their eyes with her own.

"Go on then! Let's get this place ship-shape and ready for anything!" She clapped her hands loudly to get them moving, and was relieved to see that she had managed to lift their spirits enough for now. Genla, on the other hand, lifted an eyebrow at her. She gave the cook a warning look.

"I need to go speak to Margaret, Genla. Keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone. Hosef will need to be moved where he can be tended to, as Nara is gone." She didn't wait for a reply, but turned on her heel and left the inn, keeping her head up and a look of confidence veiling her face.