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The rock outcropping gleamed in the setting sun as she reached the crest. Leaning against the warmed rock, she studied the downward trail.  Two paths met in a small vale below. A trickle of smoke rose above a small cluster of buildings at the crossroads. Adjusting her pack, grasping her walking stick firmly, and taking a deep breath, she started down the trail.  If she kept her pace, she should be there before full dark. The autumn trees burned with sunset glow as she followed the trail that wound down the hillside.

When she emerged into the clearing, the last rays of the day were fading from the peaks to the east and the shadows were deepening as night settled in.  The comforting smell of wood smoke scented the air.  She approached the two-story wooden building with the lighted windows, noting the sturdy construction, the well-made porch, and the shingled roof.  A hooded lantern hanging above the entrance illuminated the sign showing a notched sundial with neat lettering that announced ‘Nick of Tyme’. Below the words were the traditional marks for an inn: a mug, a bowl, and a bed.

She almost sagged to the ground as it sank in that she had reached her goal.  Whatever achieving that goal meant.  Hopefully something that would make the days of tramping through the foothills of the Outer Zone seem like it was worth the trip.

She looked around as she climbed the wooden steps to the covered porch.  The familiar smell of hay, horses, and leather drifted across the yard from the sturdy stables that adjoined the inn.  A fenced paddock and a grazing field beyond the stable made her wish for a horse.  Might as well wish for wings. Turning back, she took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping into the inn’s common room.

A fire crackled cheerily in a dressed stone fireplace, with a group comfortable-looking easy chairs arranged by the hearth.  Between the door and the fireplace were several tables with wooden chairs around them. Along the wall, a polished wooden bar gleamed in the firelight, with sturdy barstools lining the public side of the bar.  Behind the bar, several kegs of different sizes flanked an open doorway that gave a brief glimpse of the kitchen in the back. The room was almost empty, except for the smiling man who stepped out from behind the bar, wiping his hands on his clean white apron as he greeted her like an expected guest.

‘Welcome! I’m glad you found us without trouble. I’m Nick! Come, sit, relax!  You must be hungry!’

She blinked, surprised at the reception.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the cheerful innkeeper efficiently whisked her cloak from her back and hung it on a peg by the door, took her pack and stowed it on a shelf, and leaned her walking stick by her cloak.  Putting his hand on her elbow, he led her to a comfortable padded chair at a table near the fire, which felt wonderful even though the night was not cold.  He kept up a brisk one-sided conversation, commenting on the weather and other innocuous topics all the while. 

Before she knew it, a mug of small beer was in her hand, while promises of a bowl of stew and fresh bread trailed behind the innkeeper as he bustled off to the kitchen.  Hesitantly she sipped the beer and was pleasantly surprised at the spicy, creamy taste.  A second sip confirmed the first impression and she took a long, satisfying drink.  As she set the mug on the table and leaned back in the chair, she looked around the room and noted the clean hearth, the workmanship of the wooden tables and chairs, and the shine of the immaculately clean floor, dotted with hand woven rugs.  

The innkeeper reappeared with a laden tray, and quickly arranged a huge bowl of stew, a basket of thick sliced bread, a dish of fragrant stewed apples, and a small pitcher of cream in front of her.  He draped a cloth napkin over her lap and with a final flourish, presented her with a carved wooden spoon and headed back to the bar. She gaped after him in utter astonishment, and was startled when she heard a chuckle from nearby.  Turning quickly, she found herself staring a man sitting in one of the deep, comfortable chairs by the hearth.  Had he been there before?  She hadn’t noticed him.  He lifted a mug in salute and nodded to her.  “Don’t let that stew get cold!  Nick might not give you seconds if you do.”

The aroma of the stew pulled her attention back to the table and set her mouth watering.  Grabbing a piece of the bread, she attacked the meal as though she hadn’t seen food in days.  Which was basically true, since she had been eating jerky and dried trail mix since she left the plains four days ago. The bread was fresh and hearty, with a crisp crust, and nuts and seeds baked in. The stew was delicious, full of tender chunks of meat that she thought must be venison, savory with root vegetables, mushrooms, and onions.  She detected herbs as well, some familiar and some she couldn’t identify.  Tasting the stewed apples, she was delighted to find they had been flavored with spices and honey.  After several minutes, her initial hunger satisfied, she sipped the small beer and savored the stew more slowly.  

While she was eating, Nick returned and replaced her mug with a fresh one, and handed a tall mug to the man at the fire.  He busied himself behind the bar, and she could hear the sounds of the used mugs being washed and racked. 

Finally full, she laid her napkin on the table.  Nick appeared at her side, gathered up the now empty dishes, and disappeared briefly into the kitchen.  He returned quickly, minus his apron, and offered her his arm.  She stood, and he escorted her the few steps to one of the fireside chairs.  Once she was seated, he placed her mug on a nearby table and sat in another chair, propping his feet on the edge of the hearth with a sigh.

The other man chuckled again.  “Working too hard, are ya, Nick?”

“At least I work, which is more than you can claim!”

“Now Nick, let’s not give your guest the wrong idea.”

She looked from one to the other, wondering what was going on.  She had been greeted like a familiar face, but she was sure she had never met either of them.  She had been given food and drink by an innkeeper who asked for no money.  She wondered what the catch was, but she had done as she had been instructed:  seek the inn of time.  The next part remained ahead: and trust those you meet there.  Now she wondered what she was supposed to do next.

“May I see your stone?”  the strange man asked.

Startled, her hand went to her pocket and she felt for the amulet. Raising her eyes, she found herself locking eyes with the man, who had not moved from his relaxed position.

“How..?”

“Did I know you had a stone?  I can hear it hum, “ he said as if it were a normal thing to hear a stone.

Baffled, she withdrew the stone from her pocket and held it in her hand.  About the size of a robin egg, it was smooth to the touch, a deep red color that gleamed in the firelight.  It felt warm from being in her pocket, but seemed to heat up in the firelight.  She gasped as the stone shone with golden highlights that flared up and then faded.  Looking up, she found both men staring intently at the stone in her hand.  

Nick grunted and glanced over at the other man.  “One of Haze’s stones, right?”

“Apparently.  He hasn’t been out in years, though.”

Meeting her puzzled eyes, he chuckled again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude.  The stone is, mmm, enchanted, is a good way to say it.  It sends out a signal asking for help.”

 “Well, help would…well, help.  I mean…,” she stuttered to an awkward stop with a grimace.

Both men chuckled.

A mellow female voice spoke from behind them, “Tell us your story, my dear.”

The two men rose to their feet to greet the newcomer.  A woman stepped into the firelight, carrying a woven basket covered with a cloth, which she set on the hearth.  Nick put his arm around her fondly and introduced her.  “This is my essoh, Tassia.” He paused and frowned slightly as he realized that he did not know her name to complete the introduction.

She rose from her chair and greeted the woman courteously, offering both her hands. “I am Rayne of the Storm Clan.  I am honored to meet you, Tassia.”

Tassia grasped Rayne’s hands gently.  “You are welcome here, child.  Please sit and tell us why you have come.” 

Everyone resumed their seats, with Tassia taking the empty chair closest to the hearth.