I drift uneasily in and out of sleep, never fully in a deep slumber, but rarely eyes open. The background to my unease is a menagerie of sounds I've been familiar with for most of my life: the rattle of wagon wheels on cobblestone, the jostling of large groups passing through each other on the street, the shrieking of children at play or punishment. What once fascinated me is now familiar. Figure becomes ground.
I roll onto my back as a knife of light slices through my field of vision. Dust motes dance in the beam as I slowly rise to an elbow. I go to the window, and look down to see ants scurrying with their burdens across the windowsill. I would flick one into the open air. But it seems too much effort. There are more burdened ants below in the street. I look beyond them to see the sketch of a city. As clouds drift away from the setting sun, rays hit my eyes and make me wretch onto the floor. Not much comes out, and it's clear I am dehydrated. Time for a drink. I say to myself.
I walk downstairs, stinking of blood and piss and vomit, but I don't care much. The greying, human tavern keeper does, however, and speaks gruffly, but low in volume so as to not disturb his guests. But he's doing me a favor, trying not to draw attention to me. The words do not register. I can tell he's angry, but also - worried? Or saddened? He must have kids. There is pink and yellow chalk on his trousers, but it's his tone that truly betrays his fatherhood.
He marches me into the back, his vice-like grip on the back of my neck. It is an ante-room, behind the kitchen, and there is a large copper tub heated by coals from the fire. With a look of loss, he leaves me to it. I get as far as my boots and belt, and lay down in the hot water. Crusty but un-healed cuts burn with the heat, as my shirt peels away from them. Ground becomes figure. I feel my butt hit the bottom of the tub and am grateful for my trousers for a second. The heat makes me feel nauseous again, but there is nothing to throw up. I pass out.
In my dream there is a tower of crystal and diamonds. I am in the center of this tower, and it stands taller than I can see. Upon closer inspection, the walls are a deck of cards, but the cards are vials and cups and pitchers and goblets. I recognize the intricate lacework of this house-of-cards pattern. I've built it myself many times. But there is a breeze and I feel the tower sway. Reflexively I reach out and try to catch the wall, to keep it from crumbling, but I push too far and upset the lattice. I feel the wall buckle under my touch, and as I helplessly grasp a diamond goblet, which is so hot it sears my skin, I see my father's face though the crystal as if he stands on the other side. The volume of the crash is deafening. "I'M SORRY, FATHER!" I fall to my knees and shield my head. After the crash, I look around to assess the damage. But there is no remnant of a crystal tower. There is simply tin or paper, or charcoal or chaff, if there is anything at all. A gentle breeze blows it all away. In my burned hand where was the goblet, there is now a blade of ice.
I awake with a deep breath, and do not smell vomit. I am still in the tub. It has been re-heated, and the water I sloshed out has been mopped. But my clothes are gone. My hair is washed, and my body scrubbed. My right hand is grasping the edge of the tub, and it is burned. I can still feel the sting of the horsehair brush, drying by the fire. There is a woman I haven't seen before, sitting next to the tub mending a rip in my shirt. She is elven, and from the looks she shares with the tavern keeper they have been wed many years. He is polishing my boots. Did they hear me scream?
From the low oil in the lanterns I can tell it is now well past dark. The keepers must have waited until all the guests were asleep, then come to look after me, surrendering their few hours of peace.
"Keeper-" My throat is scratchy and nearly closed. The woman quickly pours mulled wine into my mouth, and it feels like heaven, and somewhat eases the rapidly growing pounding in my head. I begin again. "You have shown me true kindness. I'm certain my companions left you some money but it cannot have bought me this."
