Page 3 of Sorcery, Swords & Scones (Tales from the Tavern #2)
Three
Sass backed away, her steps wooden. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. Maybe he wasn’t here for her. It was possible he was simply passing through, wasn’t it?
Before she could remind herself of the absurdity of a dwarf traveling from the Ice Lands without a good reason, a voice snapped her from her thoughts.
“Sass here can settle our argument.”
She glanced down at the halfling and gnome sitting across from each other at the end of a long table. Tinpin Thistledown, the village haberdasher, and Pip Brambleheart, the baker, had taken to meeting up at the tavern for the occasional dinner and more than occasional pint.
As usual, Pip’s wiry gray hair stood on end with flour-frosted tips, and his dough-smudged clothes wore the battle scars of his day in the bakery. By contrast, Tin’s impeccably tailored waistcoat and high-buttoned jacket were pristine, and he'd slicked his hair neatly to one side.
Nerves frayed Sass’s smile, but she couldn’t be rude and ignore her friends. Besides, it would seem suspicious, and the last thing the dwarf wanted to do was appear jittery. “Don’t tell me you two are arguing.”
“It’s not a real argument,” Pip assured her with a flickering grin.
“Because it’s no contest. No contest at all.” Tin straightened, puffing out his small, ascot-embellished chest. “Gnomish recipes are far and away superior. Far and away.”
Pip’s laugh was tight. “But no one can bake them like halflings. Everyone knows that if you’re searching for the best baking in the Known Lands, you go to Elmshire.”
The gnome shifted in his seat. “Only because gnomes keep our villages secret. Very secret indeed.”
Sass had little interest in who came up with the recipes or even if it was a gnome or a halfling that baked them. In true dwarf fashion, all she cared about was the eating.
“Did the recipe for your lemon sweet rolls come from a gnome?” she asked, her stomach rumbling at the thought of the yeasty rolls slathered in sweet, gooey icing.
Pip’s eyes flared with indignation. “Bite your tongue. That recipe was my creation, as is my special creation for the Harvest Festival.”
“Then I’d have to side with Pip. If there’s anything more delicious than those lemon sweet rolls, I haven’t tasted it.” Sass also knew that whatever the halfling whipped up for the festival would be equally addictive, and her stomach growled in anticipation.
The halfling crossed his arms over his chest and gave his gnome friend a satisfied smile. “Then it’s settled.”
Tin braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, his eyes glinting merrily. “Not by a long shot. Not be a very long shot.”
The pair were so focused on their good-natured debate that they didn’t seem to notice Sass stepping back and drifting toward the bar. She slipped behind it to join Vaskel, who was back to pulling pints and chatting with the patrons.
He cut his gaze to her, clearly surprised to see her behind the bar instead of weaving her way around the tables or talking with Val near the crackling fire. “You get lost?”
Sass snorted out a laugh. “I’m just taking a wee break, is all.”
Vaskel plucked a pewter tankard from the shelf tucked beneath the bar. “Since when do you take breaks?”
Sass knew she needed to act like everything was normal, but her heart was racing. She wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her apron and attempted to steady her breath. “Aren’t you the one encouraging me to live a little?”
He nodded as he spun the tankard in the palm of his hand. “I am, but not if it’s going to make you a wreck.”
“I’m not a wreck.” Sass flipped her braid off her shoulder and stole a glance at Val, which made her stomach do a flip. “Just a touch nervous.”
Val chose that moment to meet her gaze and send her a bright smile, which did nothing to calm Sass’s nerves or assuage her guilt at hiding secrets from her friends. Not that the dinner rush was the time to come clean.
She turned to the Tiefling, deciding to lean in on his assumption that she was nervous about Val. “Could you do me a favor?”
Vaskel’s usually wicked smile faded, replaced by an earnest expression that did nothing to banish the guilt gnawing at Sass. “Anything. You know that.”
She mustered her best smile. “I need a few moments to freshen up. Can you cover the floor for me?” She jerked a thumb toward the table nestled in the corner. “Especially that table. I didn’t make my way to that fellow yet.”
Vaskel flicked his gaze over her head, his crimson brow bunching. “The round table tucked in the back?”
Sass didn’t dare look as she bobbed her head. “Aye, that’s the one. I didn’t take his order yet.”
Vaskel craned his neck before cocking his head to one side. “Who’s order, Sass? There’s no one at that table.”
Sass whirled around, popping up onto her toes to get a clear view of the table. Where there had been a cloaked dwarf, there was now only an empty chair and a single burning candle with wax puddling in the copper holder.
Her breath stuttered in her throat as she swung her head from side to side and scanned the great room. He’d been there; she was sure of it. She hadn’t imagined him. She wouldn’t have imagined him. Not when she knew what his presence would mean.
Fear trickled down her spine and sent a shiver across her skin. But if he had been there and was there no longer, where had he gone? That was even more worrying.
“You need a break if you’re seeing things,” Vaskel said with a grin that Sass tried, but failed, to return.
A hundred scenarios ran through her mind as Vaskel patted her shoulder, but none of them ended well for her. And in none of them did she keep her happy new life at The Tusk & Tail.