Page 46 of Sorcery, Swords & Scones (Tales from the Tavern #2)

Forty-Six

Sass popped her head into the kitchen the next morning, expecting to see Lira in her usual spot behind the worktable with a pot of chai bubbling on the stove and Crumpet chattering on her shoulder.

But the flutterstoat slept soundly in his nest of dishrags, only sparing her a barely opened eye and a contented sigh before snuggling deeper into his bed.

“I suppose she doesn’t want to start her baking if we’re headed out,” Sass reasoned to herself as she backed from the kitchen and headed for the great room.

But that was empty too. The hearth yawned cold and dark, the tables were barren, and not even Vaskel was at his usual post behind the bar. Was everyone having a lie-in before heading out to deal with Florin?

Sass reached a hand into the pocket of her pants, her fingers brushing the velvet pouch she’d tucked safely away. She had no intention of wearing the amulet, but she didn’t want to keep it either. Something with such ill intent had no place in her new life.

She cocked her head and absorbed the quiet of the tavern, which was something she rarely experienced anymore. Even before they opened, Lira or Vaskel or both were usually around. It was never so silent.

Her ears pricked at the sound of voices, familiar voices. But they weren’t coming from outside the front of The Tusk & Tail. They were coming from the back.

Sass walked to the back door and pushed it open, blinking at the wash of sunlight splashed across the horizon and a sight she’d never imagined she’d see.

“Your powers don’t come from your hands, my dear.” Erindil held Lira’s hands in his own. “Your hands merely direct them.”

Lira had donned her old rogue’s clothes for the occasion, with a cloak draped over her brown pants and leather waistcoat. Boots replaced the slip-on shoes she’d taken to wearing around the tavern, and the glint of a dagger’s steel flashed at her waist.

Lira turned when she noticed Sass, her mouth quirking when she saw the dwarf was also wearing the outfit she’d had on when they first met. A cloak covered Sass’s shoulder armor and hid her blades, but it was a far cry from the dresses she now favored.

“Good morning.” Erindil flashed a bright smile her way. Although his attire was as ornate as usual, Sass didn’t miss the fact that the colors were more muted and an exquisitely carved bow was hooked to his back.

“Getting in an early morning lesson on elf magic?”

Lira hitched one shoulder. “Learning what it means to be part elf.”

Erindil put a hand on Lira’s arm. “I don’t believe in part this and half that. You’re as much an elf as I am. Besides, we all contain multitudes.”

Sass wasn’t sure what that meant. Then again, she had spent little time talking to elves.

“Where’s Vaskel?” Sass asked. “Or Korl?”

“Vaskel was coming with Cali and Iris, and I told Korl that we’d swing by and get him and Val on our way. ”

Erindil swiveled his head around as if searching for something. “Are we going then?”

“You’re joining us?” Sass tried to keep the surprise from her voice, but failed.

The elf touched a hand to his chest and bowed his head at her. “I wouldn’t miss it, my dear.”

Lira gave her uncle a grateful smile, and Sass had the feeling that she’d pulled in a favor. It wasn’t the time to ask, though, and she wouldn’t say no to the help. The sight of an elf might just make Florin think twice about choosing violence.

Erindil busied himself untethering his ostrich, but he didn’t mount the creature. “Come along, Glen.”

“You aren’t riding him?” Sass asked.

“Good heavens, no. Not until we’re ready to do battle,” the elf said, as he patted the creature’s lavender plumage and then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “To be completely forthcoming, Glen’s experience in battle is limited.”

If the ostrich understood a word the elf said about him, he gave no indication. Lira, however, slid Sass a wry wink.

Their group proceeded around the tavern and onto the dirt road with Sass on one side and Erindil leading the ostrich on the other.

Sass walked briskly to keep up with their longer legs, but they soon slowed as Korl and Val approached them from the direction of the blacksmith and wheelwright workshops.

Behind them were Klaff and Vorto, each dressed in head-to-toe leather and brandishing smithing hammers.

“What are—?” Sass started to ask before Val help up a hand.

“Don’t argue with them,” she said. “They won’t have it any other way.”

Korl nodded, glancing back at his dads and giving them a small smile. “We’re all coming.”

Sass managed a peek at Val through glassy eyes as the group headed down the road into the village. Just as Sass registered the lack of yeast and sugar in the air, she spotted Pip and Fenni walking toward them.

Instead of wearing a liberal dusting of flour and an apron around his waist, the halfling baker’s clothes were clean, his apron was gone, and there was no dough in his hair. He did wield a rolling pin as if it were a cudgel, though.

His brother Fenni was more casually dressed than usual and had a row of cheese knives tucked into the waistband of his tweed pants. If he hadn’t sported a pocket square in his vest, he might have appeared mildly threatening.

“We’re coming with you,” Pip said as Fenni bobbed his head in agreement.

“So am I, so am I!” Tinpin cried out as he rushed from his shop holding a pair of fabric shears with the blades pointed out before shrieking and flipping them around. “Sweet simmering cauldrons, I was running with scissors.”

“What…you can’t…How did you know?” Sass stuttered.

Pip bounced on his toes. “We heard you last night in the tavern.”

The haberdasher’s cheeks flushed. “We weren’t sleeping the entire time. Not the entire time.”

“And don’t say we can’t come because you need all the bodies you can get against a band of dwarves.” Fenni whipped out one of his wee, curved knives.

“That’s right, love,” Iris said as she, Vaskel, and Cali walked up with Rosie and Rog arm-in-arm and at least half the village behind them. “You’re part of the village now.”

Pip leaned forward, his large eyes sparkling. “You’re one of us.”

Sass’s eyes burned, and her throat was so thick she could barely swallow.

“What did I tell you?” Val whispered, slipping a hand around hers. “You’ve found your hearth.”

‘Thank you,” Sass said, even though her voice cracked. “You don’t have to do this, but I couldn’t have picked a better crew than all of you.”

Pip’s smile was incandescent as he elbowed his brother. “Bless the stars! Did you hear that? We’re finally part of a crew.”

As the group shuffled toward the village square, Thrain hurried up and fell in step, still shaking off sleep.

“Where have you been?” Sass asked.

“Late start,” her friend said with his gaze fixed ahead. “I overslept.”

Vaskel gave the dwarf a once-over. “Glad you joined us. We need our whole crew on a day like today.”

Thrain gave a brusque nod to the Tiefling, his cheeks reddening with pleasure. “I never miss the chance to fight alongside friends.”

Sass hid her smile, but Thrain considering the motley villagers his friends might have been one of the more surprising parts of her morning—and that was saying something.