Sleeping Player (Project Chrysalis Book 3), John Gold [free e books to read online .TXT] 📗

LJ pointed silently at the door before tapping a finger on the bar.

“Got it. You can wait for her here. If you need anything, I’ll be in the room under the stairs.”

Everybody left. Just two candles lit the tavern room, one by the door and another clutched in LJ’s hand. The hot wax and fire gave off a pleasant heat. He couldn’t sleep, and when he dozed off, he had nightmares. Now, not only were there the ten red people chasing him, he was covered in blood. His pursuers were pale giants with bare skulls and vacant eye sockets, too. It was eleven people covered in blood, the giants and their army trying to kill him.

Some corner of his subconscious told LJ that there were rats scratching around under the floor as they ran. The innkeeper snored. A bed creaked in the far room. It was occupied by a couple that had shown up late that night.

Just for fun, LJ decided to count the rats running around. One, two… There were six, and they were all large specimens. Their paws were loud.

The candle in his hand suddenly went out, and a second later, six coal-black blobs had shot out of his palm. In another five seconds, the rats were silent. The cat had no idea what he’d just done, but he was happy the noise was gone.

The same thing happened another few times before the innkeeper showed up. When he did, it hadn’t been long enough for the last set to disappear, so the first thing he saw was the bodies of the rats and the loot scattered all over the floor. LJ hadn’t collected any of it. In fact, he hadn’t moved from his spot all night.

As thanks for taking care of the rats, LJ got himself a free breakfast of grilled boar ribs and hot porridge. Milisandra still hadn’t shown up. Maybe, today’s the day. LJ assumed she’d been held up by something important.

When the clock struck noon, LJ was still sitting there. Traders taking caravans south dropped by in the morning; locals looking for fresh produce walked in during the afternoon. Still, LJ waited for the girl.

The tavern owner walked over to him.

“Good afternoon. I realize you’re waiting for the person you came with, so I have a suggestion for you. When she gets here, I’ll tell her to wait for you. In the meantime, you can take care of your own business or get some sleep in your room.

The innkeeper didn’t want to have one of his bar stools constantly occupied. LJ wasn’t the best conversationalist, either, and that was why he’d offered the mutually beneficial deal.

LJ nodded—he’d already understood that he was getting in the tavern owner’s way.

The tree growing in the vacant lot was a much better spot for a nap than his room. It also offered a great view of the tavern, so he knew he wouldn’t miss Millie.

It was a small tree, and its branches practically cracked under LJ’s weight. The cat felt truly grateful for the shelter it offered, however, so he gave it his warmth. Heat spread from the spots he touched. They even began to flower. His inner voice was happy, though LJ had no idea what was going on. All he really cared about was that he could sit quietly in the tree and watch the tavern door.

LJ spent the whole day there. Drifting off into a kind of sleep, he started to sense small, transparent creatures flying around in the air. He still kept an eye on the door to the tavern as he dozed though, as alert as ever.

That evening, he walked back over to the tavern and went to see the owner, who immediately understood what he wanted.

“Neither I nor my staff have seen your companion. If she shows up, I’ll let you know.”

LJ went back to his spot. After burying the largest fish he had with him under the roots of the tree, he climbed back up. It was probably just his imagination, but the tree seemed bigger, and it didn’t seem to creak so much under his weight.

The cat continued to doze as he watched the door, doing his best not to miss Milisandra.

A week went by, and LJ went over to the owner every morning and evening to see if Milisandra was back. On the seventh day, the innkeeper asked him to leave or pay for the rooms. LJ gave him enough to cover another month, though he still spent his days sleeping in the tree.

With each new morning, he buried a fish under the roots, then going back up into the branches and thanking the tree by gifting it his warmth. His inner voice was particularly pleased by the latter part—LJ could tell on an emotional level.

A week went by, the tree grew to impressive proportions, and the locals started pointing at it and using it as a landmark. LJ continued thanking it for the shelter it provided and for passing the time with him in comfort and ease. The place where the cat slept became even and cozy. The tree liked having someone there, so it replied in kind to the cat’s appreciation.

Stray animals from all over the slums started showing up in the evenings. None of them wanted a spot on one of the branches—they all just felt lonely. They were tired, hungry, hurting, and they came there to feel better. The poor cat gave them all warmth because he sensed their emotions. He healed their wounds and diseases, treated their injuries, cheered them up. In time, they started bringing mouthfuls, scraps, and even items to thank him. LJ buried everything under the tree in appreciation for the shelter it provided.

His food ended on the tenth day, and LJ headed into the tavern.

“Young man,