The tavern's double doors swung open, and sleepy Cyril stumbled in, carrying a basket. A girl followed, holding a child in her arms. Dyck cast a familiar glance at the entrance and raised an eyebrow.
"Hi, boss." Cyril said wearily.
There were fewer visitors this time than last night, although there was still a lot of noise and guffaws. Freya was flying between the tables again, serving drunken guests. She saw Cyril enter and wanted to smile, but as soon as she noticed that he was not alone, she looked more like a ghost than a soaring bird.
"You promised to come back this evening." Dyck said in a dissatisfied tone, standing behind the bar. "Who's with you?"
The innkeeper recognized the girl in a white dress. She often greeted him with a smile when he came to the bath. He would not have been surprised that the impudent Cyril had seduced a young woman, but a girl of about five surprised the bartender.
"Not today, boss." Cyril said, sitting down in a high chair.
He put the basket on the bar, took out a knife, and placed it in front of the bartender. The bartender shrugged and put the knife somewhere under the bar. Looking at the exhausted look of his partner, Dyck came to the idea that he would not get answers. In any case, he could have questioned Cyril the next day.
"Boss, this is Clara, Clara, this is the boss. He has a stupid name, you'll ask him later."
Cyril introduced the girl, and Dyck nodded. He didn't have time to say anything when another tramp ordered a beer at the other end of the bar. Clara gave the bartender her charming smile.
The little girl was fast asleep in her arms, and several customers hurried to pay attention to Clara. It was strange, but the fatigue on Clara's face and the little girl in her arms only added to her beauty.
"Give me a beer, boss." Cyril said.
Clara wanted to sit on the high chair next to Cyril, but with the girl in her arms, it was difficult. Before she could ask for his help, a drunk guest appeared next to her. Smelling of alcohol, he motioned Clara to a seat at the table behind them.
"Would you like to sit down, beauty?" He smiled drunkenly. "Buy you a drink? Do you want me to hold the girl?"
"Hands off." Cyril immediately turned to him, startling the drunk.
However, it wasn't Cyril's words that scared him. Clara didn't notice, because she was looking at the table where the good drunk had invited her. Even Cyril did not pay attention to his tone. But the good drunk saw the young man's eyes flash for a moment. The living fire in the stranger's eyes scared the hell out of him.
"I j-just, hiccup!" The man hiccuped. "Just a sit, I mean..."
He backed away and almost fell to the spattered floor when he bumped into someone's chair.
"Watch your step, dumbass!" The man in the chair snapped. The collision spilled half the earthenware mug.
"Shut up, both of you!" The bartender barked, slamming a heavy fist down on the bar. "No fights in the tavern!"
The good drunk apologized guiltily to his brother, cupped his hands in front of the bartender, and returned to his table. However, the second chair next to him remained empty, and Clara left Cyril to sit down.
The good drunk would have liked to treat the beauty and ask her out, but he still remembered the fire in Cyril's eyes. He paused, took the mug in both hands, and gulped down the beer, looking anywhere but at the girl and her protector.
"Want some beer?" Dyck raised an eyebrow. "You promised to come in the evening, but you came in the night with a girl and a child. I don't mind guests, but I'd like to see how the tavern's improvement is progressing."
'Oh, you nerd.' Cyril shook his head and took a bag of coins from the basket. He emptied the contents onto the bar and looked at the bartender again, his eyes hard now.
"Pour me a beer, boss." He repeated. "Pay your debts and serve breakfast by noon. Please."
The sight of nine gold coins satisfied the innkeeper. He didn't argue, but calmly counted the money and hid it under the counter. Then he picked up the mug and turned to go to the barrel.
Cyril turned around. The girl was fast asleep in Clara's arms, and a stuffed dinosaur lay on the table. The good drunk drank in silence. The other customers looked at her hungrily, but they didn't dare approach. In the far corner, Freya's ghost was leaning over a table.
"Do you have a place to put the child?"
Dyck wondered as he handed Cyril a foaming mug. Seeing the questioning look, Cyril rolled his eyes and raised both hands.
"Damn, Dyck, I promised to help you and I brought a heap of money. Don't ask me anything, alright? Take care of the girl until tomorrow, then I'll sort it out."
The bartender nodded and disappeared into another room behind a barrel of beer. Cyril finished his drink, got down from his chair, and collided with Freya. She had just counted out the guests, and was carrying a few coppers on a tray. When she met his gaze, she tried to smile, but Cyril noticed that the waitress's eyes had gone blank again.
'Why the hell am I messing with women.' Cyril shook his head, deciding to postpone questions of polygamy for the next day.
"Hi." He said to Freya, and walked over to Clara.
Freya watched him go, then went back to work. She tried to be friendly, but became suddenly jealous.
"The boss will arrange her a place to sleep." Cyril said, walking over to Clara.
When he reached her, the good drunk shrank back even more. Clara got up from her chair and beamed at Cyril with her smile.
"Thank you." She said, looking at Cyril with puppy-dog eyes.
"For what?" Cyril did not understand.
"For Alice." Clara said, smiling. "You did the right thing."
"A moot point." He said dryly. "Hand over the baby and go up to the second floor. Room number three. I'm going to take a leak."
Cyril went to the toilet, and Clara went to the bar. The burly bartender had just returned from the kitchen. He picked up the sleeping girl and carried her to the back of the building, where his private bedroom was hidden. Clara thanked the innkeeper and went upstairs.
Cyril meanwhile, choking on the stench, released his bladder and, holding his nose, said:
"Gurgle."
Drops of water formed on the ceiling, the air suddenly freshened, and a small tornado appeared in front of Cyril. A moment later, the tornado took the shape of a watery snail. The giant slug rested its transparent head on the ceiling.
[Did you call me, master? Are you ready to show me the world?]
"Yes. The world starts with shit. Get rid of it."
[Thank you, master. There's really a lot of fecal matter here. Now I will become even stronger, I can do even more!]
"Yeah." He nodded as he left the toilet. "Don't choke."
He took the basket from the counter, went up to the second floor, opened the unlocked door, and went into his room. Clara was waiting for him on the single bed. Still dressed in a white dress, she looked at him shyly and seemed especially innocent.
"I'll be sleeping." Cyril said, moving to the table.
He set the basket on the table, removed his shirt and trousers, and tossed the clothes on a gnawed stool. When he was naked, he lay down on the bed next to Clara, who was smiling gently. She managed to pull back the blanket and when he lay down, carefully covered him. Lying on one elbow, she watched as Cyril drifted off to sleep.