WHEN he finally left his room, he didn’t make for the bar but instead went to the information counter near the front entrance and spoke to one of the receptionists there. She was a helpful woman and her male counterpart wasn’t any less. The visitor asked them about employment at The Tavern and wondered if there was anything he should be worried about. The receptionists were confident in the abilities of the Magus to keep them safe, as well as the measures that the Peddler had put into place.
“Business can be violent sometimes,” the woman said. “All precautions have been taken that ensures everyone’s safety.”
“No fatalities so far?” the visitor asked.
“None,” the woman answered.
Well, that was reassuring, the visitor thought as he sat under the veranda of the main entrance. It was peaceful there, doing nothing but watching the people go by, and perhaps give a simple salute to some random person. The city around The Tavern was a magnificent one, the riches of the townsfolk easily discerned from the large buildings and their practical decorations of domes, coloured tiles, and minarets. The sun itself was proud and bright this afternoon.
The visitor sighed. He needed to make a decision, and he needed to make it today.
He wasn’t fully aware what position the Peddler wanted to provide to him. Maybe it was written in the folder but he just couldn’t remember. The Peddler was usually clear on what he wanted so why couldn’t the visitor remember everything he needed to know regarding the proposal? Never mind, he thought. He’ll meet Genie again later that day and clear up all misgivings.
He did the deed after lunch. Jéne E. was in the bar in a corner cubicle, doing paperwork. The visitor knocked on the marble separator to mark his entry. Jéne E. beckoned him to wait while he finished his work. Such papers were usually confidential.
“Have you decided?” the Peddler asked as he cleared the table of the papers.
“My brain died from information haemorrhage,” said the visitor. “What position was it again?”
“Handyman. You’ll be working as a problem solver to anyone who needs help.”
“Am I qualified?”
“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
“Could I have another day to think about it? I’m worried about something, just I can’t put my finger on it.”
“You have twelve hours.”
“Twelve hours. I’ll be back.”
Where he was going was anyone’s guess. He went to his room and packed a backpack of supplies and clothing, then snuck out of the Tavern in the evening. As soon as he stepped onto the city street, the stone beneath his feet felt as though they buckled in a mighty wave, sending him crashing down. When his balance returned, The Tavern was gone, journeyed to another world. The visitor picked himself up and hurried away, knowing he had to make full use of the twelve hours he had before he needed to give his answer.
What he intended to do was simple. This world was his home and he was going to wander it as much as he could before he committed himself to a non-mundane life. Who knows when’s the next time he would be able to return here? For now, he was going to enjoy himself and let loose his curiosity as he explored the most everyday activities of everyday people.
Familiar locals were going to be as foreign to him as the skies above when he becomes a member of The Tavern.
>End of story.
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