At The Guarded Inn, Matvei and Isidor sat in Matvei’s room, fiddling about with the harp and eating bread with cheese.
“So what you’re saying is that Rus didn’t bring a barmaid up to the room last night?” Matvei asked. Isidor nodded.
“Oh,” Matvei took another bite of his bread, “And that’s why he’s been hiding all day? Because he thought he was having his way with a barmaid and it was you?”
“Well, maybe not exactly him having his way, but embarrassment’s always part of it. I suspect he might be a bit sore.”
“Oh.”
“Why do these things always happen to me?” Isidor dabbed his eyes on his sleeve.
“Hey, hey. It’s Rus’s fault. He was the one who got himself smashed.”
“But it was great!”
“I’m sorry. We should have let Rus have Irina. She wasn’t doing me any good.”
“So you two did come back here. You were supposed to meet us in front of that abandoned shop.” Pasha said. He and Eva came in tracking water across the floor.
“Wipe your feet.” Isidor ordered. Eva stopped, kicked mud and water off of her shoes on the end of Irina’s bed, and draped her soaked cloak across the room’s one chair.
“Seen anything of Rus?” Pasha asked, leaning out the window and taking off his wet shirt. He draped it over the sill before sitting down to take off his flooded boots and socks.
“Not since I left the room this morning.” Isidor sighed, strumming mournfully on the harp. Eva peeled off her wet trousers and tossed them at Pasha to be hung over the windowsill.
“Oh, Isidor. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” He sighed again.
“No, no, it most certainly is. I was the one who wouldn’t let Ruslan and Pasha just battle to the death over Irina, and then let Rus take off for the bar and get sauced.” Eva said.
“…and strategically placed us in the room underneath the two of you so that we could keep tabs on what was going on.” Pasha admitted, stripping down to his shorts.
“Did what now?” Isidor sputtered.
Eva and Pasha froze and exchanged looks, Pasha in his underwear and Eva in the process of removing her wet shirt.
“Uh…” Pasha trailed off.
“Did what?” Isidor repeated himself.
“Pasha’s joking with you.” Eva assured the magician. Isidor furrowed his eyebrows and pink balloons, each containing a toad, appeared near the ceiling. His company fellows politely ignored his display of misplaced magic.
Isidor snatched up Matvei’s harp and started to leave the room at a run before tripping hard over nothing. He picked himself up again and resumed his flight.
In the middle of the room stood half a chair. Eva kicked it and more of the back slid into view. She ran her hand along the top and caught hold of something. The chair appeared fully and Eva held what looked like a ragged brown blanket.
“You wouldn’t have happened to have stolen this from some tall wet men with musical instruments?” She asked.
Matvei shrugged.
Pasha began floating the toad balloons out of the window and into the rain.