"You-"
Before Cyrus could ask what he meant, two men strolled through the door, and the women flocked to them. They were muscular, with thick brows, and heavy brown hair. A bit of dirt and sweat stained their tunics, while their palms were clearly covered in calluses. They didn't appear much older than Cyrus and Sylven, though their presence captivated the women's attention
"Eli! A round for the people! On us!" The younger of the two shouted, grinning from ear to ear. "We'll be finished with the pass by tomorrow, and we want to celebrate!"
The brothel erupted into cheers, and the bartender arched his brow. "Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. My business was growing a bit slow these days."
Cyrus glanced at Sylven as the two young men found their way to a table near the back. Several of the women latched onto them, their blouses already loosened, and lowered.
"This is slow? How busy do you think this place normally is?" Cyrus asked.
Sylven shook his head. "Who knows? I don't usually find myself in such establishments. The news about the pass is good though. We'll be able to set off as soon as I figure out where to purchase horses."
"Hmm…" Cyrus glanced around, then tapped a drunken man on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but do you know where we might find some horses to buy?"
The man blinked his eyes, his head rolling to the side as he tried to study Cyrus. "Horses? No one is selling their horses. Not with all that's been going on lately."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, the rumors about the strange beasts wandering the forest. They say they're dripping black tar from their mouths and eyes, and turning to stone," The man said, grabbing his drink. "If you ask me, it's nothing but a hoax. I mean have you ever heard beasts turning to stone?"
Cyrus remained silent as the man downed his drink in a single gulp, and stumbled to his feet, wobbling as he gripped onto the table. "I'm going to get myself another drink. Do you want one?"
"Ah, no, that's alright," Cyrus said. He excused himself as the man staggered away, humming a tune beneath his breath.
"It seems the people are worried about trying to get away," Sylven said, cutting into his roast beef. "Still, we'll look around. Maybe someone will be willing to sell for the right price."
"What if we asked to join a caravan traveling to Neirport?" Cyrus asked. "It would save us the coin."
"It's not a good idea to interact with too many people. Since the Dilthane are looking for you, we need to limit how many people you interact with," Sylven said. He waved his hand, summoning one of the maidens. "For now, why don't we enjoy the free drinks, and our supper."
…
Hours later, as the last calls for mead were made, Cyrus and Sylven slipped through the door leading to the rooms, and down the dimly lit hall. A cacophony of moans and grunts echoed from behind the half closed doors, while flashes of skin appeared through the cracks.
Cyrus lowered his eyes, staring at the tiled floor, until a particularly giddy squeal spurred him quickly down the rest of the hall. Sylven remained right behind him, curling his lip in disgust. When they reached their room, they stumbled inside, and slammed the door shut behind them, cutting off the noise.
"Gods above. I doubt I'll ever be able to forget this," Cyrus said, leaning against the door. Letting out a sigh, he scanned the room.
There were two rickety cots inside, separated by a clutter of crates and barrels, stacked to the ceiling. Several worn tapestries were rolled up and thrown in the corner, while rusted cookware, and cracked mug were tossed in a pile against the far wall. A dim lantern illuminated the carpet of dust which coated the storage, which appeared thicker than it should have.
Cyrus rubbed his face. "You know, I'm starting to think I would have preferred sleeping in the forest again."
"It could be worse," Sylven said. He dropped his pack beside the door, and threw open the shutters. "At least all we have to worry about in here is a bit of dust. No need to worry when we have magic."
"Wait, what are you doing?" Cyrus asked. He hurried to bar the door, then whirled back to Sylven. "Won't the owner be suspicious if he checks the room tomorrow, only to find it clean?"
"Don't worry, I'm only fixing the cots, and just enough that we could have cleaned them by hand if we wanted to," Sylven said. The air rippled before his palms. "Eraveil, Denete."
Cyrus stepped back as a gust of wind swirled through the room, buffeting the blankets and sheets. He shuddered as a cloud of dust and dirt rose from the covers, heavy enough to darken the room, before it funneled through the shutters, and disappeared into the shadows behind the brothel.
Sylven rubbed his hands off on his trousers, and examined the cots. "There. Now we can sleep without worry."
"Perhaps you can. I think I'm going to have nightmares," Cyrus said. He tossed his pack on the stack of crates, and climbed onto one of the cots. Choosing to ignore the array of stains, he leaned against the wall. "Perhaps while we're searching for the rest of our supplies tomorrow, we can also look for a different place to sleep?"
"I think that's a good idea," Sylven asked. He unhooked his sword, and dagger, and lined them neatly on the dresser, before settling on the opposite cot, and retrieving a whetstone from his pack. Unsheathing his dagger first, he ran his finger down the clean blade. "I'd like to find something on the other side of the village, far away from this place."
"Anywhere would beat sleeping in a hole like this," Cyrus said. He laid back as Sylven flipped the dagger around, and nimbly worked the whetstone along the edge. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep as the stone grinded against the metal.
…
Nothing but darkness filled the room when Cyrus jolted awake, only to find a calloused hand covering his mouth. Instinct took over as he lashed out, sending a fist hurtling towards his attacker. It was blocked by what felt like a cushioned wall, which pushed him down.
"Stop struggling. It's me."
Cyrus frowned, but relaxed his body. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could just barely make out Sylven, dressed, with his sword and dagger strapped to his hip. His eyes flicked to the door, and his body tensed as he pulled back.
"What's wrong?" Cyrus whispered. He slipped free of his covers, and pulled on his boots, careful to not make a noise.
"Listen," Sylven said. He crept to the door as Cyrus tilted his head, eyeing the room.
"I don't hear anything."
"Exactly," Sylven said. "This is a brothel. Even this late at night, there should still be something. A scuff, a thump, a snore. But it's quiet. Unnaturally, so."
"That… What does that mean?"
"I think there's someone out there," Sylven said. He slid the beam free, and cracked open the door.
Cyrus peeked over his shoulder, and scanned the dim corridor. A figure in dark robes stood near the end, muttering something beneath their breath. As they raised their arms, Cyrus caught sight of a purple amulet dangling from their robes.
"Hold on, I recognize that pendant," Cyrus said. He stepped back as Sylven wedged the door shut. "It belongs to the followers of Dilthane. I saw one in the village square earlier, but I didn't think he recognized me."
"Looks like he might have," Sylven said. He frowned. "We should leave. I don't know what he's doing, but it's clearly not right."
He hurried to his bed, and donned his pack, before unfastening the shutters, and throwing them open. "Grab your stuff. We won't be coming back here."
"Thank the gods," Cyrus muttered, collecting his pack.
Beside him, Sylven climbed onto the windowsill, then dropped to the ground. As Cyrus followed behind, the thump of boots stopped just outside their door.
He barely had time to duck before the door creaked open. A series of muttered words followed, strange and twisted. Cyrus felt the blood drain from his face, and his chest tightened. A foul air accompanied the whispers, clawing at his mind, and leaving his body cold and weakened.
Then, the door creaked shut, and the footsteps faded down the hall. It took a moment for Cyrus to realize that Sylven was shaking his shoulder.
"Hey. Are you alright?"
"We- we need to get out of here," Cyrus said. His body shook as he climbed to his feet. "I don't mean just the brothel, but the entire village. We can't wait until the morning."