The Retired Abyss Innkeeper-Chapter 72: The Inn Has a Bath Now. Torvel Has Opinions About Your Hair
Torvel looked at both of them with the kind of expression I’ve started recognizing. He had both containers in his hands already.
"We have something for the sewers residue."
He said it the same way he quoted fares. The same even delivery. Just... information. Like gravity. You don’t argue with it, you just deal with it.
Brenne’s eyes shifted from the containers to him. "What kind of residue."
"The compound in that sewers isn’t standard drainage. It’s what happens when dimensional runoff mixes with active Abyss material in an integrated dungeon environment. Standard water doesn’t fully clean it." He indicated the two containers. "These do."
Brenne looked at her feathers. They hadn’t dried right. They were sitting wrong, like fabric that had been folded badly and decided to stay that way. Then she looked at the container he’d meant for her.
"Where did you source that," she said.
"The Exchange’s transit research division. We’ve been working the channel routes for several weeks. The residue compound came up in the first survey pass." He set the amber one slightly closer to Vassara’s side. "Standard testing. Full documentation on request."
"How long does the documentation take," Brenne said.
"A week, approximately."
She looked at the grey container. Then back at her feathers. The lower fold was doing something subtle and wrong, and I could tell even from across the room that if it stayed like that, it would stay like that permanently. Feathers seemed like the kind of thing you didn’t want to get wrong once.
"I have concerns," she said, "about what counts as standard testing for a research division working across six dimensions."
"The concerns are noted," Torvel said. "They’re in our catalog for first-time accounts."
"You have a catalog?"
"We keep records on all account relationships. It’s standard practice."
Brenne looked at him. He looked back. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
"What does it smell like," she said.
"Cedar and old stone. It works well for celestial beings. We’ve tested it. If you’d prefer something different, there’s a selection process for established accounts, but for first orders it’s the standard blend."
"That’s fine," she said. There was a pause. "I still have concerns."
"I know," he said.
She picked up the container anyway.
Vassara had been watching all of this without moving. The kind of stillness that meant she wasn’t reacting yet. She was inspecting it. Her amber eyes shifted from Torvel to the amber container to her entourage.
"What is that one," Vassara said.
"Coat material," Torvel said. "The sewers residue bonds differently to treated leather. Standard cleaning strips the surface layer without reaching the compound underneath, which means it looks addressed and isn’t." He indicated the container. "The formula goes through both layers. For the Vaskareth extended curing process specifically, it should work with the hide’s treatment rather than against it."
There was a very small pause there. The kind that meant something had just landed.
"You know the Vaskareth curing process," Vassara said.
"The Exchange keeps sourcing records."
Of course they did. That was starting to sound less like a business and more like inevitability.
She looked at the container. Then at her coat. The coat was holding itself together with the dignity of something that had survived a few centuries and wasn’t about to fail now. Unfortunately, it had not planned for sewer-Abyss residue.
"The price," she said.
Torvel named it.
Neither of them moved. It wasn’t hesitation. It was... positioning.
One of Vassara’s entourage, the man near the guild bench side, reached for the amber container. He stopped when Vassara picked it up first.
"Both," she said.
"One per account," Torvel said. "The calibrations are separate." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶
"One for me. One for each of my three." She indicated her entourage.
Torvel looked at her. Then at the coats her entourage were wearing. Same treatment. Same problem. Same centuries-old dignity currently under attack.
"Four units," he said.
"Four units," she confirmed.
One of his associates turned a page. The other hadn’t stopped writing at all. I wasn’t sure they blinked.
Brenne looked at her two. Her two looked at their feathers. Same issue. Same not-drying-right situation.
"Three units," Brenne said.
"Cedar and old stone for all three," Torvel said.
"Yes."
The transactions completed. Both accounts established. Torvel put everything back where it belonged with the kind of efficiency that suggested this had been decided ten minutes ago and we were just catching up.
Vassara was already looking at the corridor door.
"The north bath," she said.
"Through the corridor entrance, down a flight," I said from behind the stove. "The door’s unlocked now. Towels are on the shelf."
"Longer ones from the back for the feathers," I added, because I’d written that down earlier and hadn’t actually brought them out yet. "I’ll have them there before you get out."
Brenne turned toward the corridor. One of her two had already adjusted her fold automatically, one hand moving without her even looking at it. That seemed like muscle memory. Or instinct. Or both.
"The mapping," Vassara said to Brenne, already moving. "For the record."
"The mapping was yours," Brenne said. "For the record."
They went through the corridor entrance together. Vassara first, without checking if anyone followed. Brenne right behind her, because she was always where things were happening. That didn’t seem like something she turned off.
Their voices carried through the door for about four seconds. Then the lower level swallowed the sound.
Bram watched the door.
He reached down, picked up his jug, and lifted it without looking away.
"Before," he said, "this was a hallway."
"It was a locked door next to a hallway," I said.
"Aye."
He picked up the key ring from the hook. The one with the blue cord. Third from the left. The one that opened the door to the baths maintenance room
He looked at it for a second.
"I’m goin’ down," he said.
"I’ll be here."
He went through the corridor entrance. His footsteps went down the stairs, the sound shifting as he hit the lower level’s boards. Then it went quiet.
I grabbed the longer towels from the back shelf, took them down to the female bath door, knocked twice, set them on the ledge, and came back up.
The common room was running like it usually did. Cart commerce ongoing. Torvel was back at the east wall with his associates, both still writing. The twenty-five were spread across the room, fog gathered neatly near the ceiling. A few were busy with whatever they’d bought earlier. The Walker was on its stool. The Entity of Note was at table six.
I tasted the broth.
The lighter base had finally done what I’d been trying to get it to do for weeks. The herbs were inside it now instead of buried under it. The smell had been reaching the room before the taste all afternoon, which was exactly what the first version hadn’t managed.
That one had been good. Actually good. And the bowls had still come back mostly full.
That had been the problem.
Too much reduction. It had covered everything else. This one didn’t. Less covering. More actual broth.
Whether that mattered, the bowls would tell me.
The Walker had come up to the counter at some point while I was working. It was standing there with its hands folded neatly on the edge, fog arranged like a proper coat, looking at the second chalkboard where I’d been meaning to add the broth.
I picked up the chalk.
"Second batch," I said, writing it out. "Lighter base. Different approach to the reduction."
"The previous version," the Walker said.
"Came back mostly full. Yes."
"The smell of the previous version."
"Was an issue," I said. "Or I think it was. I haven’t confirmed it yet."
It looked at the board.
"The current version smells different from across the room," it said.
"That’s the idea," I said.
I finished writing, set the chalk down, and turned for the bowls.
"You’ll tell me if it works," I said.
"We will tell you," it said.
I believed it. That seemed like the kind of promise it would keep. Even if it couldn’t taste it properly.
Bram came back up about twenty minutes later while the broth was still going out. He hung the key ring back on the hook, walked over, and picked up his jug.
He looked at the stove. Then at me.
"Plumbin’s old," he said. "Very not standard. I need to go back with th’right tools."
"Blue cord key," I said. "You know the drill."
"Aye."
He looked at his jug. Then at the bowl I’d already set near his spot on the counter. He’d been here all day and hadn’t eaten. That seemed like something worth fixing.
He picked up the bowl.
Tasted it.
Set it down.
"Good broth," he said.
"That’s what I was hoping," I said.
He drank from the jug and went back to watching the cart.
[SYSTEM LOG]
Torvel: transaction complete. Sewers residue compound, seven units total. Vassara account, four units. Brenne account, three units.
Female Bath: occupied. Towels delivered.
Broth second batch: service complete. Walker confirmed different smell profile from previous version. Veracity pending.
Structural note, lower level: Bram reports non-standard plumbing. Assessment ongoing.
