This is a series of vignettes centred around a fictional Tavern in the Magic Multiverse.
Her sword and dagger was sheathed and not another word was said on her part. She headed back into the building while the man continued to harass her with words demanding an explanation. Seeing that he wasn’t getting one, the man sunk back in and closed the window.
A group of adventurers passed her on their way out of The Tavern when she reached the entryway. She asked one of them what world this was but the man said he had no clue. All he knew was that there were riches to be had.
“The early bird gets the worm.”
Those were his last words before he ran up to his adventuring party, leaving the woman to dwell in her confusion.
She tried again, this time directing her inquiry to one of The Tavern’s staff. A young man at the reception counter became her target and she repeated her question.
“This world?” the man asked back. “I can’t really tell, but you are free to wander around for the next few days. We won’t be travelling to another world for a while.”
The woman said, “May I know why?”
“The planeswalking engine needs to cool down after a certain number of hops. Once all the maintenance works are out of the way, we’ll be able to travel again to other worlds.”
“So we’re stuck here for a few days?”
“Not stuck per se. This world was selected by democratic voting of The Tavern’s tenants. It was their choice to come here. And if you need to go back in the very near future, you can always acquire the services of individual planeswalkers. The fee may be a bit steep, but it all depends on who you talk to.”
Who you talk to, she mused in her head. So she wondered, who’s in charge here? The Magus would be pretty high up the command chain, but was it him, or was there a higher power?
Good news was that her companion was still seated at her table when the woman got back to the main hall. Perhaps the girl had too much to drink because her head was on her arms, and her arms were on the tabletop. The woman picked up a coat that was slung over the girl’s shoulders and draped it over a chair. It was a hot day, so much so that the fires in the hearths had been reduced. The interior of The Tavern was so much cooler than the outside, but still the woman went to get herself a drink.
Something happened at the drink counter. It wasn’t the bar itself or the bartender, but she could catch something foreign out of the corners of her eyes every now and then. Like someone was watching her.
When the bartender passed her the drink, she took a moment to swirl the liquid within the wood and metal container. Then she realised what it was. It was a reflection of someone, a hooded person. She had been seeing it on the glass and the liquids at the edges of her vision, only now getting a solid picture as her drink moved in a circular pattern within the cup.
The figure looked very similar to the Magus, except something was off. Either that, or she just couldn’t remember how the Magus looked like with great detail. She only saw him for a few seconds, after all.
She sipped her drink on her way back to her table, completely aware of her action, that she might be taking a bite out of the Magus’ magical reflection. She half expected to see part of the image gone when she pulled the cup away from her lips. Instead the reflection never emerged no matter how hard she swirled the drink, no matter how much she disturbed the surface of the liquid.
The Magus had probably retreated back to his secluded chamber of meditation, she thought. They always do.
The girl back at the table had lifted her head from her arms and still under her stupor, she said, “How did the hunt go?”
The woman dropped herself heavily into her chair and fumed. The girl took that as an answer and asked no more.
>End of story.
