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“Two copper tavern wench,” Pa had scornfully spat at me, but I climbed into the back of the cart anyway, tugging the bottom of my skirt down to wrap around my ankles so it wouldn’t flutter in the wind. He’d wanted to marry me off to the butcher boy up the road, but I didn’t like him. Morris had mean eyes and said cruel things when he was drunk, and his hands were always too rough. I’d be a serving girl, I’d told him and Ma, and Ma at least seemed pleased enough that I’d found a job to take me away from our tiny village with no good prospects. She didn’t like Morris either and said she wanted more for me. There were six of us children, two still toddling, and the family home only had the three rooms. Every coin our parents earned was spread thin enough as it was, so me leaving was kinder than staying. I was nineteen now, and with a real job I could provide for myself so the little ones would have more room in the bed and food in their bellies. And I’d never have to see Morris again, or smell his rank breath, sour with cheap ale on my face when he pushed me up against the back wall of the shops to fumble under my skirt with clumsy hands. I grinned, waving goodbye to my family, and everyone except Pa waved back when the horse started to move and the cart jerked forward.
The wagon bumped and rolled up the road towards the mountains and I wrapped my arms around my chest to warm my shoulders against the cool air. Janie had told me that Skyhold was a good place to go if you wanted to help make a difference, but all I’d cared about was that it was far away from our village that stank of fish and Pa’s threats to make me the butcher boy’s wife, so I’d quickly agreed to work whatever positions they had available for a young woman with few skills. She’d said the tavern needed serving girls, and that sounded more than good to me. The fortress of the Inquisition probably didn’t have many Morrises.
“D’you see that group, there at the table on the far wall?”
I nodded, then remembered that Cabot didn’t like that. He wanted us to speak up clearly, politely, and without any hint of shyness. “Yes.”
“The one on the end with the light on her hand is the Inquisitor, and Inquisitor is how you’ll address her. When you see her in here, don’t make her or her group wait for drinks or food. She gets prompt service, even if the tavern’s packed to the rafters.”
“I understand.” She didn’t look like anything special, a slip of an elf a few years older than me with the same tattoo that plenty of elves around here had and hair so light it was nearly white. Her clothes were plain, brown leather and cotton, and her boots reached her knees. If it wasn’t for the green glow on her hand when she reached up to swipe her hair behind her ear, she’d be completely unremarkable.
“Well?” Cabot crossed his thick arms over his chest and gave me a cross look. “Get over there.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet in my rush to cross the wooden floor, pulling my shoulders back and forcing a cheery smile to my face. Standing to the side of the table, I waited, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Three men sat with the Inquisitor; another elf, bald with fair skin and intense eyes, a dark man with a curled mustache and an easy laugh, and a broad man, tall with a forked beard and a deep, rumbling voice. The bearded man had his hand resting on the Inquisitor’s leg, and from her smile, I guessed she wanted it there.
“But here,” the mustachioed man said when he noticed me. “We should eat something if we’re going to be drinking that much tonight.”
The Inquisitor looked at me then and I made my smile brighter. “Inquisitor, what can I get for you?”
“You must be new,” she laughed. “We usually order the same thing in the evenings when we’re here. Did you just join up?”
I nodded, forgetting I wasn’t supposed to. “Yes, Inquisitor, yesterday.”
“And do you have a name?”
“Elsie,” I squeaked, and I felt my cheeks burn at the high pitch of my voice. Nervousness wasn’t appreciated here, Cabot had told me once I’d finally found my way from the gate to the Herald’s Rest. When the Inquisitor comes in with her friends and companions, she wants to feel at home, like a normal person getting into her cups, she doesn’t want to be fawned over or treated any differently than the recruits. Though we still make certain she never waits for her drinks too long, he’d added. He’d said the last part a few times, now. If I was that important, I wouldn’t mind if people treated me special. Maybe she didn’t like being in charge, but that was a stupid thing to not like.
“Pretty name,” the bearded man stated, and the Inquisitor gave him a smile that anyone would recognize as adoring.
She nodded. “It is. Well, Elsie, we’re in here much more than we probably should be, so you’ll see us often enough. Usually we get rounds of ale, not the watered-down stuff, the newer one that Josie just got in for us. Darker, smells a bit like oak.”
I wondered who Josie was supposed to be. “Yes, Inquisitor.” I quickly turned to head back to the bar to get them their drinks, but she caught my wrist lightly with her green hand and I forced myself not to flinch, expecting it to hurt. It didn’t, it only felt warm.
“Food, too,” the dark man with the mustache told me, smiling kindly. I should have remembered he’d said they wanted to eat. I was messing this up; Cabot wouldn’t be happy if they complained.
“Of course, what would you like?”
The Inquisitor pointed to herself and the man with his fingers running over her thigh. “We usually get the stew, whatever’s in it will be fine. Fish, ram, rabbit, doesn’t matter, so long as it’s hearty and hot. Biscuits too, if you have them, please.”
The bald elf finally spoke, and his voice was soft and pleasant. “Fruit will suffice. Apples?” He looked at the other man, who nodded at him.
“Same for me, and we’ll just share the plate. Apples, berries, any fruit you’ve got back there. And a bit of cheese, anything sharp will do.”
“A-And the ale?” I stammered.
“Aye, and keep them coming,” the bearded man told me, his voice rough but not unpleasant. I lingered a moment longer, just in case there was more, but they went back to their conversation and I raced to the bar.
“How’d it go?”
Cabot was looking up at me with questioning, dark eyes, and this time I remembered not to nod. “Fine, two stews with biscuits and a fruit platter with some sharp cheese. And a round of the new ale, they said, with more to be sent over through the night.”
“Good.” His gruff voice was approving. “That’s normally how it goes. So go make up the plate of fruit, the two mages generally share it when they’re in here together, and then have another girl spoon up two bowls of stew. Bring it all over at the same time, then get them their drinks.”
I slipped into the small kitchen to plate up the fruit, not sure how fancy to arrange it on the dish. Two apples in the middle, three fistfuls of blackberries, six large strawberries, and the rest of the plate was filled with chunks of white and yellow cheeses.
“Does this look right?” I asked the other girl in the kitchen, Tessa, if I remembered right.
“Fine enough,” she shrugged. “They’ll eat it all the same.”
Tessa scooped two wooden bowls full of the fish stew and led the way out of the kitchen, behind the bar, and back across the tavern to the Inquisitor’s table. I grabbed the biscuits at the last second, nearly forgetting them.
The Inquisitor looked up from the conversation when we got to the table, and the bald elf motioned for the others to move their playing cards out of the way so we could set down the bowls and plates.
“Be right back with the drinks,” I told them, my voice confident this time, and the Inquisitor smiled up at me.
“Thank you, Elsie.”
The most important person here said please and thank you and even remembered my name. Pa was wrong, I wasn’t some cheap tavern wench sitting in laps for extra coin, I was serving the leader of the Inquisition and she seemed a good enough sort to work for to me. When I approached their table again with the drinks, I didn't have to remind myself to smile.