Page 15

Fourteen

“Burning one batch of pies isn’t so bad.” Sass reassured her as they both stood staring at the pan of charred meat pies, the freestanding sides golden brown but the tops as black as the belly of a cauldron.

Lira coughed and waved a dishrag at the smoke that had billowed from the oven. “It’s not like we’ll have so many patrons we’ll need all these pies.” She glanced at the other cooked meat pies cooling on the counter. “But I wanted to make sure I got the recipe right.”

“I’m sure you did,” Sass said through the hand covering her nose and mouth. “If it’s the fault of anything, it’s this old oven.”

Lira eyed the stout, iron contraption that looked like it had seen better days. Even after a thorough cleaning, the iron was soot-stained with the door battered and warped. “We’ve only been here a couple of days. We can’t ask for a new oven already.”

“A new oven?”

The gruff voice made them both jump and whirl to find the tavernkeeper in the kitchen doorway. He rubbed a beefy hand across his brow as he surveyed the room, his gaze sliding from the pies to the gleaming pots. Finally, he grunted. “You don’t look like your gran, but I suppose you take after her in the kitchen.”

Sass eyed her with curiosity but didn’t speak, and Crumpet had vanished as soon as smoke had filled the room.

“I didn’t think you two would be able to make much of it, but it looks like you did.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Lira swiped a strand of hair from her eyes. “We paid for some of the ingredients on credit—your credit.”

“We ran out of copper bits,” Sass added.

The man’s eyes bulged, but before he could explode, the main door to the tavern thudded open.

“That would be the dinner crowd.” Sass spun on one heel and left the kitchen.

Lira wasn’t so sure if crowd would be the right word to use, especially since Sass promised she’d only told a handful of people, but she’d rather Durn not know that.

She waved a hand at him. “Shouldn’t you be pulling pints?”

With another grumble uttered under his breath, the man stomped out.

Lira returned to her pies, touching her fingertips to the ones cooling. They were still too warm to cut, but she wouldn’t have long to wait. If there were any takers. What if all her pies sat uneaten on the wooden counter? What if none of the dodgy drunks she’d seen in the tavern the night she’d arrived wanted to eat? What if her plan to rejuvenate the tavern failed? What if Durn kicked her out before she got what she’d come for?

Worry became doubt which settled like a rock in her gut. She rubbed her hands on the front of her apron and tried to convince herself that it would all work out.

“Lananore wasn’t built in a day,” she said, memories of the spectacular elven city making her breath easier.

The sound of floor-shaking footfall beyond the kitchen was followed by the sound of chairs scraping. What in the hells was going on out there?

Before she could check, Sass popped her head back in. “Two meat pies, if you please.”

Lira made no move toward the pies. “Really?”

Sass gave her a sly grin. “Yes, really. An orc guardsman and his cute friend, also a guard.”

“And they want supper?”

Sass laughed. “You’re having a tough time with this concept, aren’t you?”

“Not at all.”

“You want me to do it?” Sass asked, lingering in the door and giving the pies a meaningful look.

Lira gave herself a quick shake. “No. I’ve got it. Tell the guards their dinner is coming right out.”

Sass disappeared again, and Lira busied herself with selecting the best-looking pies and sliding them onto heavy, pewter plates.

She picked up a plate in each hand then caught sight of her reflection in a polished copper pot. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark red hair escaping from her bun in wild tendrils. She looked a mess, but she also looked alive. Happy, even. How long had it been since Lira had considered herself truly happy?

Then it hit her like a punch to the gut. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't here to make friends with a wandering dwarf or a flying stoat with a penchant for pie dough. She was here for one reason: to retrieve what she'd hidden. No attachments. No complications.

But as Lira headed toward the swinging doors leading to the tavern’s great room, the plan didn’t seem as appealing. The thought of leaving, of going back to a life of locks and shadows, filled her with a sadness she hadn't expected.

She backed through the swinging doors and almost bobbled the plates. Before when she’d seen Sass’s progress, it had been daylight. Now, a fire roared in the hearth and the chandeliers flickered with fresh tapers overhead, giving the great room a warm glow. Even the simple curtains Sass had fashioned from the new fabric lent the room a fresh look. And how had she managed to make a pair of matching cushions that were now nestled in the overstuffed chairs by the hearth?

The Tusk & Tail, with its polished tables and newly scrubbed floors looked more and more familiar. She breathed in the scent of burning peat and the steam curling up from her own meat pies and fought off a wave of nostalgia. It hadn’t been so long since she’d been sitting at these very tables eating hearty tavern food with her newly formed adventuring party. And now she was back.

Even though there weren’t crowds of patrons yet—only one colorfully dressed gnome at a table and a couple of farmers at the bar—it wasn’t hard to spot an orc towering over the other patrons at a table. Then she saw that the other guard with him wasn’t an orc, or even a man, but a human female with blonde hair piled on top of her head. The same impressively tall woman with broad shoulders she’d seen in the village.

Then the orc’s dark eyes landed on her and a jolt of recognition stopped her breath.