Wyns of Change

D. J. McNulty

Autumn 2004

We’ve had a good week, Tess. Here’s a little extra for you, since it’s your cooking that’s bringing them in.” Rinka passed two coins to Tess, who smiled and skipped back to the kitchens.

“We’ll never get the stables fixed if you continue to do that.” Brandywine commented with a smirk from her place behind the bar.

Rinka shrugged. “In time. There’s no hurry, and fate will provide, it always does.”

The crash of the heavy wood door against the wall caused all eyes within the tavern’s taproom to look to the entrance. Rain, leaves, and other debris were blown through the doorway along with two sodden, cloaked figures. Rinka was to the door in a few steps, and with the help of the man that had just entered, managed to get the door closed against the gusting storm that had blown in from the sea nary an hour before. She nodded her thanks to the stranger, needing to tilt her head quite far back to make eye contact with the man.

“Come get warm by the fire.” Rinka said to the newcomers, waving towards the flickering warmth across the room. There was a scraping of chairs as a pair of travelers already ensconced before the hearth shifted over to allow the newcomers space.

The man smiled mischievously in reply, and then situated himself beside the kitchen door, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead, apparently waiting for something, or perhaps someone, to emerge from the kitchen. Rinka gave a shrug and turned to the man’s companion. “Welcome to the Morgandy Inn, may I take your cloak?” she ventured to the person who was attempting to shake the excess water from the heavy wool. Rinka smirked as she heard muttering from within the hood.

Rink’s smirk became a full smile as the hood was thrown back and she recognized the owner, who exclaimed, “Damnable weather! Two weeks out with not a speck of trouble, then this blasted storm comes up out of nowhere!” Shrugging out of the cloak, with catlike grace, the slight elfin female shook herself, and then patted her hair and clothing back into place. Only then did she look up at Rinka, who had turned away to hang the cloak on a peg. “You’re not Philps.” The elf stated as she glanced around the tavern.

“No, captain, I’m not,” Rinka replied, turning back, “Sad to say, old Philps passed on a few months past.”

“Rinka Tur? Well, hello! Whatever are you doing here?” Rodin Rae pulled her friend into a brief hug before moving towards the fire and rubbing her hands together.

“I’m earning my way at last in a manner that is not such an embarrassment to my family,” Rinka replied, following the dark haired elf and offering her a chair. At Rodin Rae’s confused look, Rinka explained. “I bought the place from Philps’ heirs.”

“Sit, sit, sit and tell me how this came to be.” Rodin Rae patted the chair beside her. “A terrible shame about old Philps. He was a fair businessman, and a genuinely nice fellow.”

Rinka looked over her shoulder towards the bar and called out, “Brandy!”

“Actually, I’d prefer something with a bit of rum in it,” Rodin Rae said.

With a chuckle, Rinka explained. “Oh, I figured as much. Brandy is one of my employees.”

“You called me?” A buxom woman with hair the color of burnished bronze appeared from the kitchens, brushing past Rodin Rae’s companion with a saucy smile for the man. Rinka watched, but the man only gave Brandy a passing glance, apparently she was not who he was waiting for.

“Aye. Could you bring… a warm rum toddy…” Rinka looked to the captain, who nodded slightly. “And anything else the man lurking beside the kitchen door might want. Charged to the house.”

“Would you like cinnamon in that milady?” Brandy asked, to which Rodin Rae nodded again

Brandy was off again in a swirl of skirts.

A sudden piercing squeal drew their attention to Rodin Rae’s companion, who had swooped down upon the unsuspecting kitchen wench he’d been lying in wait for, pulling her into a bear hug and swinging her about in his arms.

Rodin Rae waited for the man to say his “hellos” to the wench, and then waved to him once she’d scrambled out of his arms to return to the kitchen. He ambled over to drop into a chair beside Rodin Rae, who then turned back to Rinka. “Dranoel, this is Rinka Tur. Rinka, this is my trusted friend and first mate, Dranoel.”

“Well met, Dranoel. I see you know our Tess?”

“Aye, a sweet lass that one, and pure magic in the kitchen. A pleasure to meet you as well, Rinka.” He settled back in his chair with a mug Tess had slipped him.

“If old Philps is dead, what has happened to the other properties, specifically, the ship that was still being finished in drydock?”

With a sigh of longing, Rinka said, “It’s a beautiful little ship. She’ll be as fast as the wind to be sure, she sits so high in the water… if not for my uncle’s edict….” She trailed off, looking wistfully into the flames.

Understanding dawned on Rodin Rae’s face. “You wanted her?”

“Oh, aye. I miss the sea.” Rinka sighed again. “Philp’s heirs are selling off everything as quickly as they can. I bought this place for a song—lock, stock and barrel. If nothing else, I can turn around and sell it for a profit, should I be called home to Wyn Eryi.”

“I thought your home was Shorehaven?” Rodin Rae accepted the warm drink from Brandy, who had appeared at her side, and nodded her thanks to the barmaid.

Rinka nodded. “It is… or it was, before the palace was destroyed in the cataclysm. On my last trip home, my uncle Tidewild granted me a sack of coin to use to buy some land and go into business. I think he likes the idea of being my liege lord. I’m now indebted to his estate, Wyn Eryi, until I can pay back the loan. My Queen, Grellia, has hinted to me that I serve Wyn Eryi now, as much as Shorehaven, since the court has moved to Wyn Eryi while the palace of Shorehaven is rebuilt. My parents are also splitting their time between the two realms. It’s all rather boring and confusing, I suppose,” she finished with a wave.

“What edict?” Rodin Rae asked, stretching her booted feet out to warm them by the fire.

“Uncle Tide said I could use the money, so long as I didn’t buy a ship with it… which he knew I would; he knows I’ve wanted to go back to sea. But he flat out ordered me not to buy a ship. I tried arguing with him, but quit that once he brought visions and prophecies in as his argument. That nonsense gives me a headache. I’d rather take my fate as it comes, and not live by someone’s interpretation of visions.” Rinka waved her hands in frustration and stared into the fire.

“Barred form the sea, I’d go mad,” Dranoel commented with a shake of his head.

Rodin Rae was looking around at the tavern with a business-like eye. “How has business been?” she asked, taking in the steady flow of wine, mead, and beer being passed about.

“Better than I expected. The tavern alone takes in enough to live on. We’ve started serving meals in the midday as well as the evening, which brings people in earlier to start drinking.” Rinka gave a chuckle, which her companions by the fire echoed.

“There are five useable rooms upstairs, which I’ve reopened, so this is once again an inn. Philps let that side of the business slip, which I think was a mistake; it’s proven a positive boon for me, pure profit. Not much work to it, either. I have good people in my employ—the kitchen staff is excellent, and as you know, Tess is a great cook. Brandywine is quite capable of running the place; she was doing so for Philps when he got sick. I don’t actually need to be here all the time, which leaves me free to come and go.”

Rinka leaned over and whispered, “The real reason I was drawn to the property is that I’ve found what appears to be a Gate in the back garden. I’m still trying to get to it, the overgrowth is blocking it, but I recognize some of the runes I can see on it; it’s magical in nature. I hope I can get it working, though I don’t know for sure it’s linked to the paths I know through the Shadowlands. Finding that out should be an adventure...” She trailed off when she noticed the calculating look on Rodin Rae’s pretty face, and the way she nodded at Dranoel—some unspoken agreement passing between them.

At the word profit, Rodin Rae’s eyes had sparkled. “This place is close to Culleyport. It would make a fine base of operations,” she mused aloud. “A dry bed, a warm fire, a hot meal not far from the sea port at all.”

“You’re always welcome, I hope you know that,” Rinka said.

“Your Uncle said you couldn’t buy a ship, but he didn’t say anything about investing in another type of venture, did he?” Rodin Rae asked. At Rink’s shake of the head, she continued, “Is Philps ship still for sale?”

Rinka nodded.

“I confess, I came to Morgandy to try to hire that ship from Philps if possible. I have need of a fast ship for a particularly important errand in the far north. I hadn’t thought or planned to actually buy another ship, though.” Rodin Rae paused, tapped her chin and looked over at Dranoel, who was waggling his fingers at a blushing Tess.

With a shake of her dark head, and roll of her eyes, Rodin Rae continued, “My assets cannot go towards both a new ship and a land business at the moment. I also do not have the time to dedicate to running a business like this. But, I need a new base of operations, and a proven established business already turning a profit is too hard to resist.” She glanced over at the three barmaids that were efficiently going about their tasks, serving customers and tidying the taproom and bar, occasionally disappearing into the kitchen to return with steaming bowls of food. Dranoel was even now shoveling hot stew into his mouth as the serving wench that had brought it out to him flirted outrageously with the first mate.

“Are you suggesting some sort of business arrangement?” Rinka asked, finally catching up to Rodin Rae’s train of thought.

Rodin Rae nodded. “I’ll purchase that ship. Philps’ death forces me to change my plans and I do not have the time to seek out another, not without risking the loss of my northern trade. In return for allowing me to use this inn as a base of operations, and let’s say a thirty percent cut of the profits, you’ll have access to the ship, for any business you might have, and thirty percent of the profit she earns for as long as we are in business together. If my new business deal in the north takes off as well as I suspect it will, you might just come out of this with a tidy little profit. Though it means more investment into the venture than I had originally intended.”

“May the good fates continue to guide us, captain.” Dranoel intoned over his bowl.

“So I wouldn’t actually own a ship,” Rinka said thoughtfully, a mischievous smile crossing her face, “and so I’m not going against my uncle’s wishes, but I can still go to sea. I like this bargain.” She held out her hand to Rodin Rae—a deal made between friends on a handshake.

Two days later, Rodin Rae and Rinka walked casually along the dock in Culleyport towards the sleek little merchant vessel snuggled amidst several other large seafaring vessels. Dranoel had already inspected the ship and pronounced her more than adequate for their needs, and the ink had not even been dry on the bill of sale before the as yet unnamed vessel had been moved from Morgandy to Culleyport. The first mate was already aboard, directing preparations for the northern run Rodin Rae had mentioned—a new crew hired on, with several trusted sailors from Rodin Rae’s other ships going along for this maiden voyage. Rinka had not pressed her friend for too many details, knowing that if Rodin Rae was at liberty to discuss the new business venture, she would. Rinka only knew it had something to do with a discovery made in the cold northern lands when Rodin Rae was assisting E’ile, and that speed in getting back there was of the essence.

“There will be plenty of room to permanently moor her by the inn,” Rodin Rae said, sizing up their new purchase, mentally measuring the hull and comparing it to the dock back at the inn.” She can easily navigate the river to get inland to Morgandy.”

“So what are you going to name her?” Rinka asked. “Philps died before deciding on a name, according to his grandson. I have this niggling little whim to rename the inn, The Morgandy Inn is somewhat boring. I think Philps showed a bit of a lack of imagination in naming the inn for the town.”

Rodin Rae grunted lightly in reply to Rinka’s nattering as she examined the lines of the ship, shading her eyes to look up into the rigging. “I don’t know yet, still debating about a name. What do you have in mind for the inn?”

Chewing her lip, Rinka replied, “I thought Wyn’s Favor, since it is Wyn Eryi’s money that staked me in the first place.”

Any comments the sea elf might have had on the matter, as well as possible names for the little vessel were lost as she suddenly stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she tracked a figure crossing the dock. Rinka turned around to see what had caught Rodin Rae’s attention, and when she turned back, Rodin Rae had sprinted away and was already halfway up the gangplank, waving to Dranoel. With one last glance over her shoulder to see where the mysterious man had gone, Rinka followed the captain and overheard her speaking rapidly to her first mate.

“We don’t have time to wait, we’ll have to sail without the other supplies, they were surplus anyway. I saw one of them again!” Rodin Rae told Dranoel, stamping a foot and waving in the direction the stranger had gone. “If we don’t leave now, we might loose our chance at the…” Rodin Rae broke off and glanced around, not wanting to reveal any more of her plans.

With a sigh, Dranoel stalked off, tapping men as he went, and setting them silently to preparing the ship to get underway. Soon sails were fluttering and ropes were flying, the ship creaking and shifting slightly as her moorings were loosened.

Rodin Rae paced for a moment then, satisfied that Dranoel had everything under control, moved to the rail of the quarterdeck, staring out at Culleyport.

Rinka’s attention was drawn from the Captain by a young sailor wrestling with a knot he was having trouble undoing, and in his haste to obey Dranoel, he was making a bigger mess of the sail line. After assisting the fellow with the rope, Rinka crossed the deck to join Rodin Rae by the rail. “He went towards the shipyards.” Rinka supplied, assuming that Rodin Rae was trying to catch sight of the man that had provoked the rushed departure.

Rodin Rae nodded. “That makes sense, he’ll be trying to hire a ship and crew as well, if it is even one of our competition.”

The ship gave a lurch as another mooring line was loosed. “I suppose it’s time for me to get off,”Rinka said. “I have far too much work to do to join you on this escapade, though I would dearly love to be out to sea again. I wish you luck, my friend, come back safely, please.” Rinka hugged Rodin Rae, who returned the goodbye in kind.

Rinka dodged two sailors running past her with heavy sacks needing to be stowed before sailing. She also passed Dranoel on her way to the gangplank, and patted his shoulder saying, “Make sure you come back in one piece, more than one of my barmaids will be upset if you don’t!” He chuckled and gave her a small salute, then turned back to his work.

Rodin Rae raised a hand in farewell, leaning over the rail, and called down, “Keep a light burning for us!”

“I will!” Rink replied, and made her way back into Culleyport, intent on doing a bit of shopping before returning to the small village of Morgandy, which was woefully lacking in trade goods—something someone would definitely have to do something about, someday.

Damn! Open!” Rinka hissed, wiping a dirt covered hand across her brow as she crouched before the stones marking what was, indeed, a Gate nestled in the overgrowth of the Wyn’s Favor gardens. Frustrated, Rinka stood, kicking at one of the stones, which caused yet another streak of swearing as her toes throbbed in outraged response to the action.

Snickering behind her made her spin to see Brandy leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. “What are you doing, bossy-boss?” She asked saucily. “You’ve been digging out here for days.”

“Just testing a theory. Did you need something?” Rinka asked, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

“There’s a locksmith from Culleyport here asking to see the proprietor. What’s that about?” Brandy asked, handing Rinka the damp towel she was holding to wipe her hands and face of most of the garden dirt.

Rinka waved towards the stable. “The stable needs a lock.” She explained, and brushed past Brandy. Though she trusted the woman, something made Rinka keep the real reason she’d repaired and fortified the stables a secret. Rodin Rae had asked for a safe location to stash the alum she was mining up north, it just seemed prudent to tell as few people as necessary what was being kept in the stables.

“To lock up what horses?” Brandy scoffed. “Bossy-boss, you up to something?”

Deciding that her own plans were less volatile than Rodin Rae’s, Rinka gave a wave at the stone pile she’d finished uncovering and said, “I’m trying to make that Gate work. If I can, I can go home, and if I do that, I’ll be returning with some very valuable horseflesh, and the hands to take care of them.” It seemed a good cover story for the guard she’d have to hire to watch over the alum shipment, and Rinka hoped it satisfied Brandy, who sometimes had the curiosity of a fairy.

“This is the locksmith.” Brandy said, waving the man over as they entered the taproom from the kitchen.

“I’ll show you what I need done, then you can tell me how long it will take for you to complete the job.” Rinka took the man by the arm and dragged him back out through the kitchens, away from her curious employee.

~ * ~

That evening, Rinka sipped at a mug of rum and glared at the stones of the partially collapsed Gate before her. The grass around her was growing damp with the evening’s dew, but she took no notice of it as she pondered why she could not get it to function. Footfalls behind her alerted her to Brandy’s presence.

The barmaid dropped down beside Rinka, passing her an apple and a hunk of cheese as she asked, “Still not working, this Gate thing? It looks broken. Maybe because it’s all fallen down?”

“It shouldn’t matter, the stones are just the marker to where the Gate opens.” Rinka washed down the cheese with another gulp of rum. Then a thought occurred to her, and she nearly spilled her mug as she thrust it, the cheese, and the half eaten apple at Brandy and scampered over to the stones on her hands and knees. She traced the lines engraved on the stones with her fingers and then gave a grunt. “Maybe.…”

Picking up one of the stones, Rinka turned it around, and repeated the process a few more times, hefting the other stones, shifting their places. Then she sat back on her haunches and gave a satisfied grunt and a nod. She made a few motions with her hands, murmured under her breath, and the gateway flared to life, causing Brandy to give a surprised squeak and jump back.

Rinka chuckled and laid a hand on one of the stones framing the gateway. “The runes were upside down and sideways, I was reading them wrong. She scooped up her pack, which was lying in the grass nearby, then turned to Brandy. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Make sure the locksmith fits all those doors and hinges, and test them before you pay him. His money is in the till. You remember the symbols I showed you… the people you’re to give board to no matter what, right?” Brandy nodded, slight confusion on her face as she eyed the Gate’s glow warily. “And if Rodin Rae or Dranoel shows up, give them the key to the stables.” Rinka patted her arm and said, “It’ll be fine, I’ve done this hundreds of times, it’s just a Gate.

So saying, Rinka ducked through into the Shadowlands… and ran like hell.

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