I didn't see an inn. I saw a hot meal that hopefully wasn't burned on one side, and a hot bath. Just a few days stewing in my own juices, even if I could keep both myself and my clothes clean with magic, was enough to swear me off camping forever. After all, it was a waste of power, and nothing beat a nice soak to clear your head.

“Do you need a moment to wax poetic or something there, princess?”

“Screw you, Phil.”

Jerk probably liked being dirty or something.

The building itself was humble but well kept, brick and stucco affair colored a light gray. It was nearly spotless, and a kid was currently washing some dirt stains off the wall facing us while grumbling; the horse that was no doubt responsible for the chore looking on innocently. That horse was one of two total, and well decked in barding and bright cloth. The other was still bearing an old cracked saddle and little else. Both had clean lines and good endurance, but the one in barding was clearly more strong than the plow horse.

And how did I know that?

The roof of the inn was thatch, but there wasn't a hint of the rotten odor one associated with old thatch, and the door was well fit to the frame, allowing little light to escape. The door opened into a well-lit lamp filled room; smoke infused, but clean. The was a sodden mat before an actual wooden floor which was somewhat clean, and the place was cheered by hangings and tapestries. Those too were somewhat less dingy than I would expect.

All in all, it was a pleasant surprise.

I had to whack the morons; only a few days, and they already forgot how to wipe their feet! I stared them all down until they did so, filing past me one by one. I followed suit and walked to the table Karl chose. It had a good view of the front door, and the door to the kitchen, and was next to the one that could only be the owner of the well-dressed horse outside.

He was middle-aged and lean, with some kind of roguish musketeer style uniform in bright reds and eye stinging whites. The broad floppy hat was off of course, and he was nursing an ale around his eloquently waxed mustache. A sword stood propped at his side... and it had seen use. His dagger, a fine yet dainty thing, was currently buried up to it's hilt in a haunch of mutton. The entire haunch. He was going to get fat, eating all that.

He watched us all go by, and I could swear he was grinning behind that mug of his when I passed.

Karl was rousting some poor dirt covered farmers out of their seats at the table. Well at least that's what I thought until I caught the glint of coinage pass hands. So he was paying them to move. That I could approve of at least. Being the conscience of a group of violence prone guys was pretty stressful. I had to be vigilant.

The two farmers left for the bar, smiles on their faces. No doubt to get beer or ale or whatever.

Randolf looked sour about it, but it wasn't his money. He would probably have bullied them out of the table though, something to watch. I was beginning to feel like a herder of cats, or a babysitter to troubled teens. Or something similar, since I didn't have experience with either. But for now Karl seemed to have things well in hand, so it was time to get to the important things. Before sitting down I had to find a waitress, or barmaid, or whatever I was supposed to call them now. I wasn't about to yell for one, as literally everyone else was doing. In a place this busy, that got noisy quickly.

“Be right back Karl.”

I waited by the door to the kitchen. And soon enough a barmaid I liked the look of strode confidently by. Long dark brown hair, and fresh face that still had some baby fat to it, and a figure that wouldn't have looked out of place in a magazine that no longer existed. She was wearing a white shirt chased with lace and cut to show as much of her cleavage as she could get away with, a pair of leather pants that she probably had to use mechanical aids to fit herself into every morning... and no bra.

She probably made tons of money in tips.

“Excuse me.”

She stopped right away, clearly busy and flustered, but polite. The mark of a true service industry professional, and I was impressed.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a bath on premises?”

She grinned.

“Of course we do! You go to that door there at the far wall. Walk right through that. It'll lead you outside. Go to the Shed on the right, and knock. A guy named Gar will answer. Don't let him frighten you, he's a pussycat. Anyway he let's you in and takes a position by the door. You go inside the inner door while he makes sure you aren't disturbed. No need to worry about him, that's his job and he takes it very seriously. Once there, it's all pretty self explanatory, and it's all self service at the moment. Once out, you pay Gar and you're done.”

Made sense that it would be self service; they seemed pretty shorthanded for the crowd. Besides I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable with another woman in a bath with me... or anyone else for that matter. I pointed back at my 'dauntless companions.'

“Alright, I'd like to rent a room, and pay for the first round for that table over there.”

“Alright I can do the round alright, but don't you want to see the room? I'm not sure I have the time....”

“No, You pick it. I trust your judgment already. Just don't hit me with a drafty one, please. I get cold easily.”

From the way her face brightened I think I just made her night. She was into the kitchen with a wave and a bounce in her step. I headed out the door indicated, noting Both Karl and Matt's eyes watching me go. I gave them a wave of my own, a subtle signal that all was well.

The yard behind the inn was a dirty mess, a large hundred feet enclosed space with free roaming chickens and a very fragrant pig pen off to the side. There was a stable parked at the other end, and I hoped it was in better condition. It shared the same whitewash stucco and was just as clean as the front. That poor kid must be running all over the place with his bucket every day.

The wall was a little warped but in good repair and about eight feet tall, and a smaller fence walled a garden off. There was a trail off into the forest. And there, right next to the stable and as far away from the pig stench as it was possible to get while still remaining in the yard, was my target. It was also coated in white. The fence did look sturdy enough in construction to at least slow a dinosaur down, and the building? Outhouse? Looked sturdy enough to hold out a siege in.

I had dinosaurs on the brain. I needed to work on that.

I knocked on the sturdy looking door, which gave a sturdy sounding echo.

“Hello, Gar?” I was told you have a bath in there?”

The door opened, and the largest humanoid bipedal thing I have ever seen to date hunched over to squint at me. He was green, and tusked, and his shoulders were so wide I half suspected that the building had been constructed around him; surely he couldn't fit those through the door? He was dressed in rough white cotton pants, had no shirt, and bore a club that I suspected weighed more than I did. To my credit I kept the flinch small. Orcs did not have the best reputation, and he was huge; large enough to give a dinosaur pause.

Yep, definitely needed to work on the dinosaur thing.

“Gar?”

He nodded with a smile that, while menacing in a way, oddly enough did put me at ease as he stepped aside and gestured me in. Once inside even though the inside was a near match to the outside in cleanliness, it was still easy to tell it was a bathroom. There were benches with holes cut in intervals lining the room, and I could just make out the sound of running water underneath us through them. There were also buckets placed periodically around the room, with rags in them. I really hoped they didn't re-use those.

I sure as hell wasn't going to use those. That little spell I knew that cleaned me was looking more and more like the greatest thing since sliced bread. The smell could have been worse, though I suppose it could have been better as well. Gar motioned me towards the door in back and spoke, a voice like two rocks grinding into each other.

“The cost is two copper, paid when you get out. Since you're alone you know it's serve yourself?”

I nodded.

“Alright. There is a skylight in the chamber, but no windows. If you scream, I'll come running and hammer whatever frightened you into the dirt; though... if you scream because of a spider, please don't yell at me if I bust the door down. I'll not take that well.”

“I won't scream because of a spider.”

It was true, I had no issue with spiders. Corpse bugs were a different creature entirely.

“The small lock will keep most out, the bigger lock is to keep me out, in case you're worried about me. I won't barge in on you unless you scream, but some people like the extra security.”

His look said it all; he knew some people were wary of him because he was an Orc, and was not only used to it, but well past blaming anyone over it.

The next room had a door even more ponderous and sturdy than the outside door was. The small lock was a bolt lock as big as my middle finger that you engaged with your foot and went in the floor. The big lock was a wooden bar the size of my arm that was cradled by slots and slid into place. It looked like it could take a day's worth of pounding with a battering ram to get through it. I slid the smaller lock in place, but left the bigger one.

I wanted to trust.

The room itself had no less than 4 tubs, oblong hollowed out tree trunks... or possibly the same trunk, with tables next to each. There was a rack of clean towels, and a basket hamper for the dirty ones under it. The tables each held soap; the color suggested pine tar. At the far corner there was a trough, buckets floating in it. There was steam rising from it too. The floor was stone, and constructed at a slant so as to drain the water towards the back, where a grated drain sat. The floor itself was dry, indicating how much this room had been used today. The walls were painted a nice muted yellow, matching the light.

I checked the skylight before starting to disrobe. It was clear of lurkers... and clean, which was a nice touch. Someone should tip that poor kid. I wasted no time at all, then realized I probably should have dipped the water into the tub first. Oh well, no one was watching, so no one would know.

As tempted as I was, I didn't cheat. Moving the water one bucket at a time would save energy, and I saw no reason to waste it. The only thing I wouldn't compromise was setting my clothes to clean themselves, cloak included. I wasn't packing them away dirty. It only took about fifteen minutes of bailing to fill the tub with piping hot water. The table next to the water trough had a number of oils to make the water smell better (and by proxy, the person in the water) and I chose one made from cactus and melon. I pointed my eyes to the skylight and the sliver of sun.

And then I soaked.

Drifting along, I soaked in the water so long that I pruned, and there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Yes? Does someone need let in?”

“No Ma'am, I was simply checking to make sure you were alright. You've been in there some time.”

I blinked. Come to think of it, it had probably been about an hour.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, I was just soaking, and kind of zoned out. I'm on my way out.”

His voice came through again, slightly panicked.

“No! No, ma'am, you don't have to get out on my account. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Don't worry Gar, you didn't disturb me or chase me out. I should just get out before my friends start looking for me.”

I got out and dried off with a towel that was so clean it glowed in the dying light. Taking my spare outfit out of my pack I threw it on. There was no mirror so I couldn't really check the results, but I brushed my hair anyway, mainly to help it dry. Putting my towel in the basket, put everything I used in its place. Then I put my boots on, shouldered my pack, shot the bolt and opened the door.

Gar, at his place by the other door, stared at me with his mouth open. What? Had I forgotten something? I took inventory; nope, all there. I was properly dressed. He closed it soon enough when I brought up a concern.

“Um, I wasn't sure how to empty the tub. I didn't want to try it by bucket, and....”

“Oh! It's no problem ma'am. I handle that job. Was everything to your liking?”

“Yes it was, thank you. So how much do I owe you?”

“Three copper.”

I handed him five. So odd that copper was now a viable medium of exchange again; I mean pennies looked like copper, but they weren't. And the nice pleasant experience was worth the copper. So I handed him five as I thanked him.

“Thank you for the nice bath.”

He actually blushed and stammered.

“Th-thank you ma'am.”

As soon as the door closed behind me I skipped a bit; I couldn't resist. The inn was just as loud as it was an hour ago, and even darker. Coming fresh from outside the pungent smoke odor of the tar soaked torches was even stronger.

The table was still full of my companions. There was also an earthenware pitcher of beer, and plenty of plates with bits and debris of some form of dinner no doubt. There was also a plate of some sort of bird; a grouse? And peas. Placed in front of an empty spot on a bench, complete with Phil staring longingly at it.

I settled right in with a smile. Matt started off the questioning.

“So where were you? You took quite a while. We've already been through dinner and a pitcher; we had to order for you.”

“Was taking a bath. I highly recommend the facilities for current company, by the way.”

“You saying I stink?”

“You saying you don't?”

“....Well played.”

Phil had to join in. It was clear they were all at least two sheets to the wind already. A bit odd, was it really beer in that pitcher?

“But don't you use that spell of yours to clean up every day?”

I nodded.

“Of course, but a good soak is a good soak. Haven't any of you ever wanted to just soak in a tub?”

They looked at each other, silent. Traitors. I knew they were holding out on me. Then Randolf, surprisingly, bailed me out.

“Sure. Especially after a game or a twelve hour shift. Eases the muscles.”

He took a drink, daring the others to contradict him. For my part I tried dinner; it was good. Almost five star good, considering the locale and background issues. The gourmet restaurant business must be suffering like no other under the current problems; it had to be hard to make great dishes out of monster guts.

The waitress was back and by my elbow before I noticed her, placing a large iron key and a silver goblet of wine on the table in front of me.

“Hey! Just heard from Gar you were back in, sorry about the dinner being cold. Your room is number four on the third floor. The wine is the best we have, let me know if you want something else instead, OK?”

And like a tornado she was gone again, with only the impression of a verbal smile lingering in the air. Just watching her made me tired, not that I saw where she had gone.

“Well, the good stuff. Somehow you rate the good stuff. Makes me wonder....”

I knew what he was wondering, and he could stew. Karl rescued him from my no doubt visible wrath.

“No, just something I ordered for Muse. She isn't getting comped, though the bit about the room was interesting.”

“I simply asked her to pick a room for me that wasn't too drafty. She should know what the bad rooms are, and I didn't want to get cold.”

“Makes sense to me. Kind of regretting I didn't do that while I had the chance.”

Weird, support from the dwarf.

“Thank you Ethan, but why can't you do it now?”

He burped before burying his face in his cup. Then he replied.

“Because I'm a bit too drunk to walk, darlin'.”

I rolled by eyes, taking in the soot stained ceiling. Oh well, guess that kid couldn't get everything.

“Did you all at least remember to get rooms?”

Nods all around. Good; I didn't want to share.

“Yep, we filled the place up; they could only stuff us in two at a time. Kind of jealous you get one to yourself.”

I knew how to fix that. I pasted on a nice serene face with a bland smile and attacked.

“Well I can always help you with that. All I'd have to do is make you female.”

Matt coughed as his beer went down the wrong pipe.

“Um, no, thanks, that won't be necessary.”

Success! Just that simple. Ethan was on to me though.

“You don't know how to do that, do you lass?”

I felt I had to answer truthfully.

“Nope. Not even a little. I can't do transformational magics.”

I did hope to learn though. I might be able to fix my own condition if I did, though I suspected it wouldn't be that simple. I hated that feeling, but couldn't quite deny it. The others didn't even seem to be entertaining the idea of going back to normal. Making the world go back to normal, yes, but not themselves. Not even the dwarf, though in his case I wasn't sure.

The wine was barely passable, from an obviously local vintage. But barely passable was passable, and it set off the meal perfectly. Now I needed a wet nap or something. Just as I was beginning to despair, the waitress came by again, this time with a damp but clean hot towel and another goblet of wine.

“Here you go! Can I time things or what?”

“You can, thanks.”

I wiped down and she took it and was gone again. I was very happy I didn't have to deal with a brindle dog or something similar. Rubbing greasy hands on a flea infested mongrel was shudder worthy. The others were staring at me.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just good service here, you better tip the waitress.”

“I intend to, why wouldn't I?”

Randolf goggled at me, then smirked.

“No reason. Screw all this, we aren't drunk enough.”

Even pastor Collins was drinking, though his pace more closely matched my own. We were all going to be senseless by the end of the night though, by the looks of things. The wine was potent after all; I resolved to slow down. Drinking something other than water was nice though. I'd probably gladly murder a few people for a Coke.

Ethan Matt and Randolf were talking sports, something I never cared for. Karl was staring into his cup like it contained all the answers to life's questions, and pastor Collins was muttering prayers under his breath from the sounds of things by the time I finished my second cup. My ears were starting to heat up.

It was time to go do something. And unfortunately, that something involved going back out to the bath shed again. So I stood back up, just as Matt Karl and Phil did.

“Where are you going?”

“The can. Where are you going?”

“The same. “

Stupid biology. I was closer to the door, but they were more reckless, so we all made it outside together. Which of course meant that I would be waiting, since I wasn't about to risk them getting a peek... or peek myself. It took them less than three minutes while I watched the trees move in the breeze. Looked like the weather was going to turn foul again.

Then it was my turn, and Gar was at the door.

“Hello again ma'am. In the far right corner there is a screen, and a specially made seat. Next to those is a bucket and rags should you need to clean yourself. The rags are clean, I laundered them myself. The idea is to throw the rags down the hole too. I'm not supposed to leave, but I'll be right here but facing the door if you need anything.”

And out he went. I checked the walls... like the bath room itself, there were no convenient holes anywhere, and the screen was dark and covered everything. I pulled it across. The bucket full of rags was clean, they looked like the remains of old sheets or something, cut into strips.

I trusted Gar on maters of cleanliness after my earlier brush, but I still thanked my lucky stars that I didn't need them. The seat however, I did need, and it was clean too. It was made of oak, fit directly over the hole, and smelled of bleach, somehow. Evidently they had access to bleach still. Once finished I used my best spell, and made sure to hit the seat and surroundings with it too. Gar wouldn't have extra work on my account.

A quick retraction of the screen showed Gar right where I'd left him.

“So what do I owe you this time?”

He grinned.

“Nothing at all, only the baths are charged. Enjoy your stay Ma'am.”

I waved and stepped outside, to find Matt Karl and Phil, enjoying the moonlight and swaying of the trees. Should I be breathing fire their direction, or touched? I settled for neither, even though I was sorely tempted.

“Pretty decent facilities.”

Phil nodded with some obvious relief.

“Yep! Better than what I have at home. Stupid outhouse.”

I could sympathize. We made it back in with the gentlemen leading the way, but I collected my key and went on to the stairs while they sat back down before the beer.

“I'm going to go study. You all should probably slow down. Hangovers will really suck tomorrow.”

Karl stepped in.

“Agreed. This is the last pitcher guys' we need to be sharp tomorrow.”

There were groans that Gar could probably hear. They were like children or something. The common room was still crowded, with waitresses flitting around like large dragonflies. So it took me a bit longer to navigate than I wanted. The stairs were narrow and high, but at least they didn't need a banister. I ignored the second floor and started up the next claustrophobia inducing flight.

At the third floor there were three rooms. I was in the last, the rather sturdy door directly across from the landing. The key opened the lock and I went in to discover a space a bit smaller than a modern hotel room, with a small scarred desk set next to the only and currently shuttered window and a rather large bed that looked a bit lumpy.

It felt a bit lumpy too, under the gray checkered comforter, but it felt soft and appeared free of any creepy crawlies. I used the spell to repel insect life anyway, and watched the result carefully; nothing. Very good.

The door also sported a small metal bar like the one in the bathroom as well as the standard lock, which was perfect. I closed the door and shot it, and only after realized I'd forgotten to light the lamp first. Stupid dark seeing eyes. I lit the lamp with another small application of magic because id of course forgotten to bring a candle or ember with me. I was burning through magic to do the mundane again, and it was annoying. I really had to get a handle on that.

I plunked down on the bed and opened my pack, grabbing my spell book. I needed to know much more about how this crazy stuff worked if I was to use it. I doubted I could use it to fix the problem we were sent to investigate since it was likely the cause, but I wouldn't discount it either. And anything that could be used to help save lives was a good thing.

Besides, how could I sleep with all that racket going on downstairs?

Well somehow I managed it. Because the next thing I knew I woke to a hand reaching past my drooling face to snag the spell book I was resting on. How the hell had someone gotten into my locked room?

I turned quickly, adrenalin spiking me awake and hand going for my dagger. The cloaked individual moved even faster than I, avoiding the slash I'd aimed in haste. Through the dim light of the dying lamp I could easily read the surprise. There was nothing in the individuals hands, but obviously they were a thief.

As I watched they turned to smoke, and filtered out the slots in the window. I opened it shortly after, spell of fire already formed in my mind, but the fog or mist was gone.

Well that was new.

Checking my belongings revealed nothing missing, not even my coin purse. A small spell would prevent any further incursions from the window. Only then did I allow my heart to slow. That hadn't felt like an attack on myself; it would have been easy to just stab me while I was asleep. It would have been just as easy to slash my coin purse and leave. My instinct was telling me whoever that was, had been after my book specifically.

Which made no sense at all, since only I could use the darn thing.

The real question was; should I tell the others? A quick glance revealed how late it was. I could tell by the light from the window slits that the moon was facing it; which meant it was close to setting. And the lamp, which had enough oil for several hours, was almost out. I didn't want to wake everyone else up, only to have them sit on me while I slept.

Then again, they might be targets themselves.

Then again, if the thief had already hit them, it was too late to worry about it. None of them had spell books, however. Well maybe pastor Collins did for some of the things his goddess asked of him, but I didn't think so. I was fairly sure the thief wouldn't be back tonight, for fear that I had the rabble roused against them.

Sigh.

I opened my door. The party down below was in full swing. I headed down the stairs; I didn't know which rooms my companions had, so I'd have to ask. Luckily enough no one was coming up said stairs, or it would have been a tight squeeze.

Just before the first floor landing I paused; the view laid out the entire common room. There were still old salts and farmers chatting merrily away at this hour. And there, right where I left them... were my companions. All of them still drinking merrily away, even Karl. And they were very loud, if not especially coherent. I think I heard three different stories at once, and all of them just as improbable. I'd have to remember the one about the bar room dancer the next time Randolf gave me crap. Even pastor Collins was still there, listening intently with his face beet red!

I turned around and marched back up without a word. It was 3 am, or thereabouts, and whatever the thief did to them was well deserved, as long as death wasn't involved. After all, death was too good for them at this point.