After walking down a short corridor, Amon and Alexandra entered a large hall with a staircase at the far wall. Not far from the entrance, an old man sat on an expensive couch, wearing a white turban and a simple, but neat robe. He held a wooden cane in his hands.
At a glance, Amon recognized him as the owner. Only the owner could be so unconcerned with his appearance in the midst of such an elegant establishment, with luxurious decor.
"I wish to rent a room here, esteemed one. Are you not the owner of this inn?" Amon addressed him.
"I am," the old man replied with a sad sigh. "But I am not the owner, I am merely the caretaker. For everything we consider our own is only temporarily given to us by the Prophet and the Goddess, peace be upon them both. From dust we were created, and to dust we shall return... Leave, foreigner, do not disturb my thoughts. I am not accepting guests today."
Amon silently smirked. The old man was indeed the owner, albeit a peculiar one. Well, improvisation was his strong suit. Let's play this game.
"Very well, pious elder," Amon spoke with solemn dignity. "But first, allow me to sit and think alongside you."
The wizard's speech quickened slightly, so the old man wouldn't have time to refuse, but not so much that it broke the rhythm he had established.
"I am old, and my companion is young. At my age, it seems as though the sun of life is at its zenith, that my life is long, and the sunset is far away. But alongside venerable old age, other thoughts visit my mind. Thoughts of how the sun, though high, will inevitably set beyond the horizon.
Thoughts of how my muscles will shrink and my back will bend under the weight of days. Thoughts of how, in indulging the body, I have forgotten the soul. Thoughts of how I strayed from the narrow path of righteousness and sank into sin. Soon, it will be my turn to look back upon my life's journey.
To look back and sorrow that I did not do so earlier, for the judgment of my deeds is near, and the truth is still so far. Do not chase me away, elder. Allow me to sit beside you. And in thinking of the inevitable end, I will reaffirm my path in the Goddess and the Prophet, peace be upon them both."
Amon sat on the couch and muttered fervent praises to Tzinchu. Quietly, so the owner could not understand the words, but just enough for the old man to realize the foreigner was praying. The owner also began to pray, silently moving his dry lips and nodding his head like a puppet.
When he finished, Amon stood up.
"Let's go," he said to the bewildered Alexandra. "Though we have not found shelter for our weary bodies here. Though we are to travel again. So be it. But we have found something greater – solace for the soul, the focus of wisdom that comes with age. And good thoughts that will lead us to salvation. Thank you, elder. I will not disturb you further. We are leaving."
The old man remained still, staring at one point. Amon headed toward the exit, with the confused mercenary following him.
"What was that?" Alexandra whispered. "I didn't understand any of it."
"Sometimes, prayer can achieve more than gold or a sword," Amon replied mysteriously. "If one is sincere and open with their soul."
As they neared the door, the warrior slowed his pace. He hadn't been mistaken.
"Wait!" came a voice from behind them.
Amon stopped and turned. The old man was standing, leaning on his cane. The owner shook his head slightly, as if shaking off a hallucination, and then, to his surprise, spoke:
"What is your name, foreigner?"
"Amon."
"My name is Bakhtiyar ibn Zahid."
The old man shook his head again.
"It was as though angels spoke through your lips! Forgive me, noble traveler. Old age brings sorrow and sad thoughts. After drinking the bitter tea of memory, I completely forgot about others. And it is said: good deeds drive away bad ones! Your words are balm for my soul, a delight for my ears and heart. How may I assist you?"
Bakhtiyar didn't even glance at Alexandra, as though she didn't exist at all. He addressed only Amon, ignoring the mercenary's presence.
"My journey has been long and difficult, esteemed one. I wished to stop here and rest," said the warrior.
"How many rooms do you need, pious traveler, comfort for your heart?"
"Two."
"One!" Alexandra said simultaneously with Amon. She glanced at the knight and quickly added, "We'll take one."
"A man's word is law, for the Goddess first created man and only then did she create woman," the owner admonished Amon. "I will order two rooms to be prepared."
"Wait, esteemed one," the knight stopped him. "We need to consult."
"Consulting with a woman is like drinking from an empty jug," the old man said sagely, but Amon ignored his words.
"Why one?" Amon asked, confused, turning to Alexandra.
Alexandra hesitated and frowned. Her ears turned red in embarrassment.
"Just a moment," she mumbled and paused for a second.
"Ah, here it is!" The mercenary's face brightened. "Why pay extra? The journey is long, and we need to spend gold wisely."
"Don't worry," Amon slapped the pouch of coins at his belt. "Your services will be paid in full. There's plenty of gold."
"In the desert, we slept together," Alexandra reminded him. "Why do we need two rooms? We'll fit just fine in one."
"Outside, monsters threatened us, but now we're in the city. There are tall walls here. I think mamono won't get through."
"You're mistaken!" Alexandra exclaimed convincingly and rubbed her nose. "Who's the expert on monsters, you or me? Mamono are everywhere. Underground, in the water, in the air. Do you think the guards can stop them?"
Alexandra sniffed disdainfully.