The Bronze Salamander

Magpie Tale 139

Meg polished the gold sign of the Bronze Salamander, second-rate inn, vigorously. Meg had never seen the inn so clean. Second-rate inns were expected to be dirty with questionable sanitation. She didn’t mind not having to clean the inn more, but she hated gathering lice for the guest beds. But hopefully that would change. The inn had been preparing all week for the arrival of the master evaluators from the Inn and Tavern Guild all the way in Gibbous City. If they were lucky they could raise the Bronze Salamander from a second-rate to a first-rate inn. Meg grinned. Sure there’d be more cleaning, but no more lice! She took her rags and reported to Finn Inman, the innkeeper. “I think we’re ready. The Bronze Salamander is going to be a first-rate inn!”

Finn shook his head. “I don’t know-”

“We got dragon-proof rights last year. They may as well have made us first-rate then,” Meg argued.

“Yes, but that was an exception. If the mayor hadn’t insisted that the Salamander was the only place large enough for town meetings, it would have been denied.”

Finn’s wife came out from the kitchen followed by Liese and overheard them. “Don’t worry,” she ordered. “We’ve done our best. I’m just glad we were able to apply for first-rate status during the off-season. We wouldn’t have been able to prove we’re first-rate with heroes crawling around, starting fights and sneaking out the back way.”

They nodded in agreement. Business was good during hero season, but it was a relief not to fix up the inn after every batch of heroes came through. Finn rubbed his hands together and sighed. First-rate inns could charge more and cope better with hero damages.

“The kitchen’s all stocked.” Liese said. “We have a small selection of first-rate food for the evaluators and all of the second-rate food is organized.”

Meg grinned. Liese was the youngest cook in Green Crescent Province. She had to renew her license every year, because no official could or would believe she had the skills to run an inn kitchen. But no one could deny Liese was the best second-rate cook once they tasted her cooking. She could burn a stew just enough to destroy the flavor, while at the same time keeping it edible enough to serve. She even kept a separate dish to overcook select bits of meat and veggies for the heroes. After all, heroes didn’t sign up at second-rate inns for the food. Liese’s stews where known for turning a hero’s bad day into full blown misery. Proud as she was of Liese, Meg was always glad Finn’s wife cooked the staff food. That was properly edible.

Finn looked around at his empty clean room. Few people stayed at the inn in the off-season. The tables and benches were lined up straight like school children waiting for inspection. “I guess we wait now.”

They waited. The evaluators didn’t show up until just before suppertime.

Meg gulped when she saw them. There was a tall skinny woman and two short fat men. They wore long dark robes, which Meg knew were the regulation brown, but looked black in the dim light. The Inn and Tavern Guild crest – an inn with a dragon perched on top – was sewn onto the fronts of their robes. Dark cloths were pulled across their faces, with only slits for the eyes. Meg never could understand why the Inn and Tavern Guild insisted on masking its evaluators. Innkeepers didn’t retaliate if things didn’t go their way.

They all tried not to fidget as the evaluators went over every part of the inn. They tasted the food and prodded the beds and ran their fingers along the railings checking for dust. They asked questions about how to spot a hero, mislead evil henchmen and keep mobs from breaking out. They crawled through the secret tunnel that led into the woods and muttered to each other. Finally they gathered in the great room. One of the short fat men started, “We have decided-”

“Master Inman!” The doors to the inn flew open and a man dressed in furs and skins stumbled in. “Dragon!” he gasped and fell against a table.

“Nonsense,” snorted the evaluator. “It isn’t the season.”

The man looked up and Meg recognized him as Jed the fur trapper. He stayed up in the mountains during the off-season and came into town when hero season started to sell the heroes his furs. Sometimes he even led heroes over the mountains. Meg couldn’t remember ever seeing him during the off-season at all.

“I don’t tell tales,” Jed gasped. Meg frowned. Like all trappers Jed talked up his time in the mountains, but he never brought false reports about dangerous creatures and that she felt was what he meant.

“What can we do?” She asked deciding to take him seriously. “Can we get a hero here in time?”

That question promptly sparked a discussion that bordered on argument and ended up with everyone seated around the table eating Liese’s second-rate stew. There wasn’t enough first-rate food for everyone. There were several grimaces and everyone tried to eat as quickly as possible. Liese’s second-rate stew was truly terrible. The evaluators took off their masks to eat and Meg was surprised to see that they actually looked quite pleasant.

Finn pounded the table. “We can’t let the dragon into the village. It would burn all the buildings down.”

“Not the Bronze Salamander. It’s dragon-proof,” said Liese mopping up her stew with stale bread. She alone didn’t seem to mind the taste of the stew. But then, she made it.

The woman evaluator frowned, “That’s not the point-”

“Do you suppose we could lock the dragon up in here?” Meg mused. “Since it’s dragon-proof, it couldn’t get out.”

After some discussion, Meg’s plan was adopted. The Bronze Salamander was the closest building to the mountains, which was why it was popular with heroes, and the reason Jed had come there first. It would therefore be the first place the dragon would come. Meg went with the evaluators down to the local hero supply store to buy some dragon poison, while Jed and the others went to get a goat to lure the dragon into the inn. It was very dark by this time and the owner of the hero supply store was not happy to have to keep his store open. The hero season had cleaned him out so he was all out of dragon poison and the only dragon spears he had were the cheap kind that were really only good for deer. The owner didn’t believe them about the dragon until flames shot through the night and the Bronze Salamander glowed red. Then the storeowner promised to special order some dragon poison first thing in the morning, but as it was the off-season, he couldn’t guarantee how fast it would come. He sold them some tents so they would have somewhere to sleep while the dragon occupied the inn.

It was a long miserable week in the tent. Meg was sharing with Liese and the woman evaluator. The woman was named Rye and she was nicer than she had seemed at first. Rye had lots of stories to tell about city life and the best ways to sneak heroes out of inns and how to stall evil henchmen. But Meg knew they had failed the evaluations, and she couldn’t bring herself to like Rye. The Bronze Salamander would still be a second-rate inn.

At the beginning of the week, the dragon bellowed and flamed, but the dragon-proof walls stayed firm. Eventually the noise and the fire stopped and Liese wondered out loud if the dragon had starved to death. Rye promptly squashed this hope by pointing out that dragons slept on their gold for centuries without eating; a few days could hardly harm one.

At last the dragon poison arrived, delivered by a hero eager to grab some glory in the off-season. A crowd gathered to watch as he climbed in through the window. They waited for screams and flames, but nothing happened. Presently the hero opened the door and showed them all in.

The dragon was laid out in the kitchen where it had obviously been eating the inn’s food. It was dead.

“I found it like this,” said the hero, obviously disappointed.

Meg frowned. “So, the second-rate food killed it?”

Everyone had their own conjectures, but no one could come up with any better theories. The dragon was given to the Bronze Salamander and the sale of its skin, talon, wings, etc. would help repair the damage the dragon had done. The crowd broke up, and Meg saw the evaluators had put their masks back on. She sighed. Couldn’t they just say they’d failed the evaluations and get it over with?

“Finn Inman,” began one of the men. Meg still couldn’t tell them apart. “After completing our inspection of the Bronze Salamander, and witnessing the events of this week we duly award your inn the status of first-rate.”

“What!” gasped Meg, along with the Inmans and Liese.

Rye took her mask off and laughed. “Well, the Bronze Salamander is good enough to kill a dragon. That’s pretty first-rate in our book.”