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The door opened onto a scene of such refreshing normality that for just a moment, Tzi wanted to cry.  She repressed that impulse, instead stepping inside and shutting the heavy door on the whole insane world outside.

A cozy fire blazed merrily away in a large stone hearth, casting warm light and a comforting crackle across the room; aside from that, the only illumination was from the windows and a few strategic oil lamps, leaving the common area dim in the far corners.  This was clearly an inn common room, with plain but sturdy wooden tables and benches along half the open space, and battered old armchairs and a sofa set up near the fireplace.  Sawdust was sprinkled across the floor, but aside from that it seemed scrupulously clean.

Altogether it was a more rustic atmosphere than Tzi favored, but she'd take it over forests the wrong color and a sky that seemed determined to point out how out of place she was.

“Rooms are ten chips a night.”

She had thought the space empty on first glance; now Tzi zeroed in on the voice, and realized why she hadn't noticed him immediately.  There was a bar in one corner, next to a doorway which opened onto a kitchen, and behind the bar was the only person present.  He was lounging backward in a reclining chair, leaving only his head above the level of the bar, and with a straw hat pulled down over his face.  Even having spoken, he looked asleep.

“Meals are two chips apiece,” the innkeeper continued in a disinterested tone.  “Ale's a chip a half-pint.”

Tzi crept hesitantly closer, and let out a hefty sigh of relief upon drawing near enough to discern that he was human. Or at least, she was fairly sure, judging by the hands folded over his midsection and the stubbly jawline peeking out from under his straw hat.

“Chips?” she asked.

“Currency,” he replied, still apparently half-asleep and unconcerned.  “If you don't carry any, I take trades.  Lot of barter 'round these parts, I'm amenable to whatever has some value.”

“I, uh...”  Tzi swallowed, sneaking a glance past him at the kitchen door; something in there smelled wonderful. “I'm really hungry.”

“Kay,” he grunted.  “There's stew.  Two chips.”

She licked her lips.  “I...don't exactly have any money.”

The innkeeper shrugged, slightly disarranging his hat.  “Or whatever you've got of equivalent value.  Give or take.”

Tzi grimaced, looking down at herself as if she might find some surprises.  She had gone running through the tower after working long into the night, in her room, where there had been no need to carry any tools or supplies.  It was just lucky she had never gotten around to taking off her shoes yesterday evening.

“Okay, the thing is...I don't actually have anything on me,” she said.  “I mean, just my clothes.  Which, um, I'm not exactly ready to trade.”

He shrugged again.  “No trade, no dinner.  Two chips or equivalent value.”

She gritted her teeth for a moment, trying to contain her rising anger.  “Look, I'm desperate,here.  I don't know where in the universe I am, I've spent the whole day walking through that crazy forest and almost got skewered by furry critters, and I'm hungry. Can't you cut a girl a little slack?”

“If you're that hungry, Conjure yourself something,” he said without sympathy.  “One Conjured meal won't hurt you.  A week of 'em won't, even.”

“I don't know how to Conjure!” Tzi exclaimed.

The innkeeper shifted slightly in his recliner, and she had the impression he was peering at her through the tiny gaps in his straw hat.

“...what're you, twelve?  What are you doing on Xyzz if you can't even Conjure?”

“Sixteen,” she snapped.  “...almost.  And...Xyzz?  I thought this place was called Dysland.”

He grunted.  “Screwing around with portal magic, were you?  Serves you right.”

“I wasn't screwing around with anything!” she shouted.  “I caught my master doing blood magic and he chucked me through a portal so I couldn't tell the senior apprentices!  This isn't my fault!”  Tzi caught herself barely short of stomping her foot in a childish display of pique.  “You don't look like you're starving or anything, would it kill you to show a little charity?”

“This is an inn,” he said with a glaring lack of sympathy, “not a halfway house.  Rooms are ten chips a night, meals two chips apiece.  I'll trade for fair value.  That's all.”

“And what if I starve to death or get eaten by a vruph, huh?  Then how'll you feel?”

This time he didn't even shrug.  “Long as you don't do it in here,that's nothing to do with me.”

Snarling, Tzi yanked her wand out and brandished it.  “Yeah?  And suppose I just go back there and get myself some stew.  What're you gonna—”

She blinked her eyes, then again, and then turned in a complete circle.  She was standing outside on the path, in front of the inn.

“That,” said her Grimoire, “was an extremely neat teleport.  That's not a simple spell to perform under any circumstances.”

“I didn't even see him cast,” she whispered.

“Indeed, master.  It might be wisest not to antagonize this person.”

“This doesn't make any sense,” she growled, putting her wand away.  “If this guy's a wizard, what's he doing running an inn out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Obviously we don't know his mind, master, but the fact that he's a wizard lends itself readily to his doing whatever pleases him, for no reason that he is likely to bother explaining.”

She gave the book an irritated glance.  “You're barely a day old.  When did you have time to absorb a commoner's disdain of wizards?”

“I didn't mean to sound disdainful, master.  That was from the textbooks with which you created me, and I believe the original author meant it as praise.  Wizards, based on your apprentice texts, are expected to be idiosyncratically, almost belligerently, individualistic.”

She sighed, and headed back up the path toward the inn's door.  “All right, lesson learned.”

“Rooms are still ten chips a night,” the innkeeper informed her upon her re-entry.  “Meals two chips apiece.”

“Yeah, yeah, you've made your point,” Tzi snapped.  “How about this, then: what are you doing on—uh, here?”

“Running.  An.  Inn,” he enunciated carefully, as if addressing a small child.  “You're not real quick on the uptake, are you?”

She compressed her lips, taking a moment to push away a surge of outrage that wouldn't have lead to anything good.  Focus, concentration, calm.  Honestly, did he need to be insulting on top of everything else?

“What does it cost,” she finally replied in a deliberately even tone, “to stand around in your common room, then?”

“You'll have to clear out if paying customers need the space, but I don't see that happening any time soon.  That aside, loitering is free.  Irritating the innkeeper carries a surcharge you don't want to incur, though.”

“Duly noted,” Tzi grunted, taking out her wand again.  Well, if she could neither sleep nor eat here, she might as well move on.  But first...

The innkeeper didn't react to her magic, and she avoided addressing him further as she went around the room, casting Divination on everything she could find.  The inn, she learned, was built of local materials, and she gained no new entries for types of wood or stone.  There was a wealth of mundane utility in a place like this, however, and while it felt kind of absurd to be magically documenting the contents of an inn's common room, this stuff in particular would be very useful if she ever managed to learn that Conjuration spell.  Over the next few minutes, she Divined all the different pieces of furniture, glass from the windows and bottles, lamps, straw, the threadbare piece of carpet laid out in front of the fireplace...

The innkeeper cleared his throat when she stepped past the bar toward the kitchen.

“I'm not gonna take anything,” Tzi snapped.  “I've got a funny feeling you'd know if I tried.”

“Well, well,” he drawled.  “She can learn, at least.”

Casting Divination at food she wasn't allowed to touch was torture.  Tzi disciplined herself to continue, though, methodically going over all the furnishings, the stove, sink, cookware and crockery, before moving on to the contents of the well-stocked larder.  Jars of preserves, hanging haunches of meat and herbs, sacks of grain and beans.  None of it came from any plant or animal she'd ever heard of before.

“I really need to learn that Conjuration,” Tzi whined, licking her lips and lowering her wand.  Her stomach punctuated that resolution with a loud growl.

“Indeed, master,” said the Grimoire.  “With all this tallied in my pages, that spell alone will ensure your immediate physical needs.  It stands to reason that the innkeeper might know where we can obtain ritual components.”

“It stands to reason he'll try to charge for the information,” she grunted, turning to step back out into the common room.  The innkeeper hadn't moved.  “Hey, do you sell magical components?”

“Nope,” he grunted immediately.

Tzi squinted suspiciously.  “And you're not just saying that because you already know I don't have any money?”

“Kid, only somebody with an agenda bothers to lie.  We've established you have nothing I want.”

She heaved a sigh.  “Depressing, but fair.  Do you know where I can get magical components?”

“Nowhere around here.  I'll mention to the Tinker that there's someone in the market on Xyzz, but she doesn't make it out here often.  If you're desperate enough to get yourself killed in the process, poke around the Syrr ruins.”

“Who's the Tinker?” Tzi demanded, deciding to leave the “get killed” option alone for now.

“Somebody who'll sell you ritual components.  Maybe.”

“You are just so very helpful,” she groused.  “Fine, what'll it cost me to give her the message?”

“Doesn't cost me anything, so I don't see why I should charge.  That's not gonna help you today, though.  Dunno when I'll see her next.  I have even less idea if she'll bother to come to Xyzz.  She's an odd duck.”

“Unlike you,” Tzi said with another sigh.  “Okay, look...  What about labor?  I can, I dunno, clean?  Chop firewood?  I'm not a terrible cook.  I'll do whatever needs doing, and all I want is some food and a place to sleep.”

“I do trade for labor,” he said.

“Yes!”  Tzi perked up, grinning broadly.

“...but I don't need any.  Already got people working for room and board here, and they have everything covered.”

“Of course,” she said acidly.  “...wait, what people?  Would they help me?”

“Ask for yourself,” he grunted, working his shoulders to settle more deeply into his recliner.

“Ask who,” she snapped, turning to look expressively around the empty common room, but trailed off at finding someone else present at the foot of the stairs.

It was another of those furry creatures, similar enough that Tzi had an immediate flashback to running from a brandished spear.  On a closer look, though, this was clearly a different one.  She was another adult female, but garbed in cloth rather than leather, a long robe of some kind that seemed it would hang open except for strips of fabric wrapped tightly around her entire torso.  Her fur was more brown than gray, as well, and the crest atop her head was longer, hanging forward with a few locks almost in her eyes.  She was staring at Tzi with clear shock.

“Oh,” Tzi said weakly.  “Um...hi there.”

The small woman took a hesitant step forward, said something softly, and then dry-washed her hands.  She wasn't shouting or waving weapons, which seemed like it should be a positive development, but Tzi was quickly beginning to feel nervous about this individual's wide-eyed stare.  There was more to it, now, than shock; her features were alien and animalistic, but arranged in a sufficiently human-like configuration that she could read the expression.  This one looked a lot like hope.

Tail extending out straight behind her, the woman darted forward, reaching out to grasp Tzi's hand before she could pull back.  Her left hand; she didn't try to interfere with the wand.  She just held it, gazing imploringly up and blurting a few quick, quiet syllables.

“Uh,” Tzi said intelligently.

Her new acquaintance took two steps back on her paws, till she was holding Tzi's hand out at arm's length, and gently tugged.

“I'm sorry, I don't speak...furry.”

“She wants you to follow her,” the inkeeper said lazily.  “That much you should be able to infer from context.  What you could be forgiven for not understanding is that she hopes you can help her.”

“I...”  Tzi looked at him, then at the small, fuzzy woman, and sighed.  “Well, I don't see why not.  This is already going a lot better than my last meeting with one of...you...guys.  No promises, though.”

The creature surely didn't understand her words, either, but the intent was apparently clear enough; as Tzi stepped toward her, a smile of relief blossomed on her face and she bowed twice in quick succession, dropping Tzi's hand and backing up toward the steps.  Only when her paws bumped against the bottom stair did she turn around and begin climbing them properly.

Tzi noted, as she followed, that the stairs were human-sized.  In fact, upon reflection, so was all the furniture she'd encountered so far.  Her next observation was that they must be powerfully magical, for the furry woman took them with exactly the same comfort she did; the steps were correctly sized for whoever was climbing them.  That was not a simple or small enchantment.  Tzi, for her part, was accustomed to bounding up stairs three at a time, but it seemed wiser to stick to a more sedate pace here.

The upstairs hall was lined with windows along one side and doors on the other, and terminated at its far end in another rising staircase, presumably to an attic as this inn hadn't had a third floor visible from the outside.  On the other hand, it was run by an apparently powerful (and irascible) wizard, so who knew how big it might be within?  Regardless, Tzi's guide went straight for the first door they came to.  The latch was at a convenient hand height for both herself and Tzi—another potent space-altering effect.  She pushed the door open and eagerly beckoned her guest inside after her.

It was a snug room, though doubtless it seemed downright spacious to its inhabitants.  Everything was human-sized here, including the two narrow beds, with no sign of magic to shrink the furniture.  With Tzi present, it actually was a little cozy, though the three furry people probably found it pretty comfortable in terms of size.  In addition to the woman who'd met Tzi downstairs, there was another male who had been sitting in the room's sole wooden chair and now hopped down at their arrival.  Another was in one of the beds, tucked in and looking pathetically small, half-buried in the pillows and mostly hidden by the plush quilt.

The woman stepped over to him, gently smoothing the fur on his head and murmuring soft words.  He showed no sign of realizing she was there, though he did not seem to be asleep.  At any rate, his eyes were slightly open, and gleaming with moisture.  In fact, his fur was damp and his cheeks seemed somewhat hollow.

While the other man's eyes flicked between Tzi and the woman uncertainly, she stepped back from the bedridden male and turned to Tzi again, speaking a soft plea.

“Oh,” Tzi whispered.  “I see.  I...don't know, but...”

The woman clasped her hands together and actually sank down to her knees.

“All right, I'll do what I can,” Tzi said, immediately uncomfortable with this display.  She stepped closer, raising her wand.  “Seriously, though...please don't get your hopes up.”

She only had the one healing spell, and it was a very, very minor one to begin with.  Healing magic was its own whole branch of study in which Tzi had done practically no research.  And that was when her psy was in tip-top shape; she knew from recent experience that her healing spell was barely up to soothing away bruises right now.  She didn't need to be a doctor to tell at a glance that the furry guy in the bed was very sick.

Rather than starting there, she aimed the wand at him and called up the sigil for Divination in her mind, along with the accompanying sensations.  What with all the practice she'd been getting at this lately, it seemed like it was coming faster.  Moments later, her Grimoire rose from its pouch to hover in front of her and opened, prompting a short outcry from the lucid furry male, which the female quickly shushed.

“Most informative, master,” the Grimoire reported, showing her a detailed anatomical drawing accompanied by reams of tight text.  “This entry is several pages long.  Would you like me to hit the salient points now, and study in more detail later?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Tzi said fervently.

“Very good, master.  It seems these creatures are called Mirbals!  They are, as you have already observed, sapient and comparable to humans in intelligence, though they are physically smaller.  Interestingly, it seems the females are socially dominant in most of their cultures, due to being larger and stronger on average.  These specifically, and apparently the others we saw as well, are of the Claedh tribe.  Most immediately relevant, the individual you just Divined is cursed.”

“Cursed.” Tzi frowned deeply, studying the Mirbal tucked into the bed.  His breathing was labored; he looked feverish.  “What can you tell me about this curse?”

“Almost nothing, master,” the Grimoire apologized.  “Remember, Divination is not effective on magic.  Perceiving the presence of the curse is all a Divination of this specimen can do, as it detects major status-altering effects of any kind.  It stands to reason that the curse is related to his current illness.”

“So,” she said slowly, “using my healing spell on him...won't work.”

“Some curses react violently to healing magic, master, but actually I believe yours is safe.  Your spell is so very rudimentary it is unlikely to trip such provisions.  It will definitely not break the curse, no, but it might provide temporary relief from his symptoms, since the curse seems to manifest as a physical illness.”

“All right,” she said, raising the wand again.  “As long as there's no harm in trying...I guess there's no reason not to.”

For whatever reason, it felt like it worked better this time.  The magic flowed more strongly and the spell did not immediately fizzle, anyway.  She was still seriously stressed and out of sorts, with the added pressure of this Mirbal family's expectations weighing upon her performance, but for all that the spell felt more potent than when she had used it on herself hours ago.  Not as strong as in practice back in her room at the Tower, of course.  But...better.

Nothing immediately happened, and Tzi tried again.  Aiming the wand, feeling the flow, seeing the sigil, experiencing scents and sensations tied to the mental state of this magical effect.  Outwardly, it caused the crystal tip of her wand to glow brightly, and a luminous mist of green and gold to waft forth, settling onto the bedridden Mirbal.  The other two clutched each other desperately, watching this unfold with wide eyes.

Magic relied heavily on intuition, and Tzi was at least composed enough to sense when the magic had done all it could for now.  Overusing healing magic, especially the very primitive sort she could do, was a quick way to make health problems worse; ordinarily she would not have cast the spell twice, but with it working at such diminished strength she felt it was safe, perhaps even necessary.  Now, though, she felt it was done.  More would be useless, and perhaps risky.

She lowered her wand, panting slightly.  Magic never felt like hard work while it was happening, but afterward she always felt the drain.  Healing was much more labor-intensive than what she'd been doing all day; Divination took barely any effort.

The Mirbal on the bed blinked, then blinked again, and drew in a long breath.  He opened his eyes wider, and they seemed lucid now; at any rate, he started visibly when his gaze fell on Tzi, and spoke a few weak syllables.

The woman, who Tzi suspected was his mother—she and the other male looked somewhat larger, though it was hard to tell with this fellow so thin and tucked in bed—rushed to his side, crooning softly and stroking his head again.  Moments later she retrieved a skin bag from the nightstand and carefully helped him drink from it.

Meanwhile, the other adult came to Tzi's side and took her hand again, chattering fervent and obvious thanks.  He seemed on the verge of bursting into tears.

“Oh, no,” she said miserably.  “No, no, it's not better...  He's not healed, I only helped a little bit for now.”  She shook her head, waving her hands in the most negative gesture she could manage.  How to express this?  “Augh, I don't know how to say this...  Curses, partial healings...  I need language for this!”

Perhaps she didn't, though.  The male had stopped to watch her as she began to speak, and seemed to understand; his face fell.  The woman had turned her head to observe them, and her expression did likewise.

“I guess...maybe you got the point,” Tzi said with a heavy sigh.  “Look, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, I'm just an apprentice.  You need a doctor...  I mean, you need a wizard and a doctor, or maybe a wizard who's specialized in...”

The male Mirbal released her hand and returned to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer and retrieving several bundles, which he laid out on the other bed and began digging through.  Moments later he had produced a necklace of beads made from pewter, copper, and bone, and turned to offer this to Tzi.

“Oh, no,” she said adamantly, gesturing again.  “Absolutely not.  I barely helped, I can't take anything for this.”

The Mirbal tried to push the necklace on her again, and again she refused, going so far as to back up a step.  Her grand gesture was spoiled by another loud rumble from her stomach.

He paused, looking startled, and the cracked a sudden smile.  Setting the necklace back down on the bed, he switched to a different bundle, and moments later came back to offer Tzi an unrolled piece of leather on which sat a pile of wizened objects.  Only after a long moment's study did she realize she was looking at a melange of dried meat and fruit.

“Oh,” she said weakly, unconsciously licking her lips; her stomach growled again in protest at her intransigence.  “Um, I dunno if I can...  I mean, I haven't fixed him.”

The woman stepped back toward her, reaching up to place a hand on Tzi's forearm, and spoke softly.  Her expression was compassionate, understanding.  She lifted Tzi's hand, making her reach for the food and offering a smile.

“I guess...thanks,” Tzi said, finally tucking her wand back into her belt and accepting the offering.  “Oh, god, I'm hungry.  Thank you.”

They both grinned at her as she carefully took the piece of leather in both hands, then returned to their son while she retreated to a far corner of the room to hunker down and begin stuffing it into her face.

It was basically jerky and raisins, clearly made without spices or any other flavoring.  Stiff, gamy, hard to chew, not to mention strange; the fruit scarcely had a taste and even the meat was bland.  Tzi could not recall ever having appreciated food more.

She had enough restraint and forethought to slow down, saving some pieces of each kind of fruit (there were apparently three different ones) and one of the meat for Divination.  If she ever learned that Conjuration spell, every bit of food she could muster would help.  Only after committing each of the specimens to her Grimoire (so those were floofberries; hopefully they tasted better fresh) did she finish them off.  It was a Mirbal-sized portion and not really filling, but it took the violent edge off her hunger, and in her current state, that was not a small deal.

It was something of a relief to get out of that room; her new friends were effusive in their thanks, which made her feel guilty for not having actually solved their problem.  As best she could given the language barrier, she tried to make them understand that, and felt she had at least got the gist by the time she slipped back out.  Even the sick Mirbal had perked up enough to eat a bit and say a few words to her.  Still and all, Tzi was glad to put the room behind her.

Back down in the common room, she made a beeline for the innkeeper, who still hadn't moved an inch.

“Hey,” she said bluntly.  “Do you know that guy up there is cursed?”

“You know he's cursed?” the innkeeper said lazily.  “I'm surprised you could figure that out.  He pretty much just looks sick.”

“You could fix him,” she accused.  “You've got magic.  Better than mine.”

“I'm an innkeeper, not a doctor,” he grunted.

Tzi growled aloud, making grasping motions with her hands as if about to go for his neck.

“Think carefully, kid,” he said in his disinterested monotone, face still mostly hidden under that absurd straw hat.

“You are the most—”

“What's your plan, exactly?” the man asked.  “You go right from screeching about nobody helping you to trying to save the first people you come across.  You're alone and way out of your depth here, apparently bouncing around at random.  Just gonna do that until everything pans out for you?”

“Right now,” she spat, “I'm trying to survive.  And getting in good with the locals is a good start toward that!”

“Survive,” he murmured.  “That's all you got?”

“Survive,” she said, baring her teeth, “learn more magic, find a way home to my master, and turn that old man into a newt.  And then a dead newt!  Or just a dead old man, to save time.”

The innkeeper shifted slightly in his chair, causing his hat to settle lower on his face.  “Really, the master who effortlessly handled you when you caught him up to no good.  How you gonna do that?”

“It's a process,” she snapped.  “There are steps. And yeah, those are big steps that I'm gonna have to break down into smaller steps, probably.  Once again, I just got here, and I'm still on the very first one, which is staying alive.  Thanks for all the help, by the way!”

He just lounged there in his seat.  After a few seconds, Tzi let out a disgusted grunt and turned to stalk toward the door.

“So,” the innkeeper said suddenly from behind her, “you want a job?”

She froze, and half-turned again to look suspiciously over her shoulder.  “Excuse me?”

“You just met the current staff.  The Claedh are nomadic; they go to where food's in season, which they can't do with a sick son along.  They're staying here for now, looking after the place for room and board, and frankly I think they need the work more than you do.  But there's other stuff I might want from time to time.  Like now, I could use a pair of hands to fetch something for me.”

Slowly, Tzi shifted to face him directly again, still suspicious.  “Why?  What changed your mind?”

“You're a neophyte baby mage with no business on Xyzz.  When you came in here, by all appearances your whole strategy was to flail and panic.  If that's how you're gonna be, you're just a walking hazard, and better for me and everyone else on these moons if you starve to death.  But.”  He shifted slightly again, almost as if he were straightening up a bit.  “The same baby mage with a goal, a plan, and the will to do the work...  That's another matter.  If that's how you're gonna be, then maybe we can do business.”

“...wow,” she said after a short pause.  “Well.  I guess it's nice to know where we stand.”

“Innit, though?  So, you want a job?”

“What's it pay?”

“Spell components,” he replied.  “For the ritual to learn Conjuration.”

Tzi took a long, angry stride toward him before catching herself.  “You had that the whole—”

“Take a basket from the kitchen,” the innkeeper said blandly, unfazed by her anger.  “Go back to the crossroads and take the fourth path.  Walk straight ahead, and before you're out of sight of the four blondewoods you'll come to a grove where there are sazja fruits; those are in season.  Bring me a basket full of 'em.  There may be some other stuff nearby you'll find interesting, too.”

“...you want me to go pick fruit,”she said slowly.  “That's not much of a job for a wizard.”

“You're not much of a wizard,” he pointed out.  “For somebody who was just complaining about being hungry, you're awfully ungrateful at being told where you can get free fruit.  Go, don't go, see if I care.  Offer stands.  If you're going, watch out for jaggabans.”

“What,” she asked wearily, “is a jaggaban?”

“They eat fruit,” he said, and grinned beneath the brim of his hat.  “Among other things.”

“Great,” Tzi growled.  “Crossroads, fourth path, pick a basket of fruit, get spell components.  And a room for the night!”

A soft snore emerged from beneath the straw hat.

“That's not real,” she accused.  “That is fake snoring.”

He just snored louder.

Tzi heaved an exasperated sigh, and stomped back to the kitchen in search of a basket.