Page 25

Twenty-Four

Lira and Korl emerged from the kitchen, the orc holding the swinging doors open for her as she wiped her hands on the front of her apron.

Lira stopped short when she saw that there were, indeed, folks in the great room. She’d expected Sass and maybe Durn behind the bar, but she hadn’t anticipated Tin or the halfling baker Pip.

The door of the tavern was propped open, and Sass stood on the threshold with her hands on her hips, occasionally lifting one to throw a wave or beckon an unseen someone.

“What is she doing?” Lira asked herself more than anyone.

Korl folded his arms over his chest, the quilted leather breastplate buckling, and then grunted. “I think it’s your scones that are doing most of the work.”

The neatly dressed haberdasher hurried over to her, tugging on the points of his brown tweed vest that contained most of a russet-colored shirt with voluminous sleeves. “What a wonderful idea, dear. Wonderful, wonderful.”

“What idea?”

He beamed up at her, lines spidering his face. “To sell your scones as an afternoon pick-me-up, of course.”

“To sell—?” Lira hadn’t gotten far in her spluttered question before Sass’s throaty voice cut her off.

“Scones and chai,” she corrected, throwing an arm as far around Lira as it could reach. “Three copper bits for the pair.”

Lira opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“I wouldn’t mind trying a scone and some of the fancy tea your friend here has been telling us about.”

This came from Pip, who still had his own flour-encrusted apron tied around his waist and wore the lingering scent of yeast like a signature scent. His sparse, wavy hair stood on end with bits of dried batter speckling it like doughy jewels.

“Oh, I’m sure my scones are nothing like your bread.” Lira felt her cheeks blaze. The last thing she wanted was for the village baker to think she was trying to steal his business.

But Pip’s grin was genuine. “That’s why I’d like to try them. I don’t serve scones or cakes or any of the treats your gran used to bake, and I have no intention to start.”

A breath rushed from Lira as her shoulders sagged with some measure of relief. “If you’re sure.” She shot Sass a look. “We hadn’t planned on serving anything but supper.”

“Aye, but plans change.’ Sass thumped her on the back. “Besides, who can resist that smell?”

Lira inhaled, the air laden with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar.

Sass nudged her. “Don’t you need to put the chai on and check the scones?” She gave Korl an apologetic look. “Not that I don’t trust your fix. It’s the oven I don’t trust.”

With that reminder, Lira hurried back to the kitchen, bracing herself to find smoke snaking from the seams in the oven door. But there was none.

She allowed herself the briefest peek into the oven, blinking rapidly from the wave of heat and closing the door again. Whatever Korl had done, had worked. At least, for now, and Lira would take it.

She placed the biggest copper saucepan she could find on the stove and filled it with the milk she’d stashed in a box outside the back door to keep it cool. Opening each of the sacks of spices Iris had brought her, she dropped the whole pods, curled sticks, and black tea leaves into the milk. The fire danced beneath the copper pot as she stirred steadily, taking her cue from the scent that wafted up from the simmering chai.

Pivoting away from the chai for a moment, she opened the oven door and grinned with satisfaction. The scones were puffed up and evenly browned, the smell heavenly.

Lira used a cloth to pull the baking sheet from the oven and set it on the cool half of the stovetop. She snagged the best blue earthenware mugs from the hooks on the wall, ignoring the ones with chips, and arranged them on the wooden tray before she poured in equal measures of the steaming chai. Then she transferred the scones to the other side of the tray, standing back and admiring her handiwork for a moment.

Her gran would have been proud, she thought. Lira closed her eyes and could almost feel her gran next to her, her voice soft and her hands warm as they closed over her smaller ones.

Her gran had always been proud of her. That was why Lira had been able to go out into the world and make her way without fear. She’d carried her gran’s belief in her like a talisman.

But that was also why she’d come back to Wayside. She’d wanted to feel worthy of her gran’s pride again, she’d wanted to feel as happy and content as the two of them had been living in their tiny house and using cake as payment because there wasn’t enough coin .

Opening her eyes, Lira looked at the scones and chai with as much pride as she had when she’d surveyed any of the treasure she’d collected or bags of gold she’d been given.

She lifted the tray and backed into the great room, careful not to move too quickly and slosh chai over the rims of the mugs. But it wasn’t only Pip and Tin waiting for the chai and scones that Sass had sold them.

Val had joined Korl and the pair had taken up residency in the oversized chairs by the fire, which was now roaring. Pip and Tin sat across from each other at the end of a long table, a curiously mismatched pair, since one was impeccably dressed and the other was wearing as much flour as fabric. Lira wondered if there might be an opposites-attract romance brewing there, which made her smile.

The two ogres who’d delivered the chairs were standing at the bar, shifting from one stumpy leg to the other. Lira suspected they couldn’t sit comfortably at the tables, even the ones with long benches instead of chairs.

Then she spotted someone who almost made her bobble the tray. Lira took even steps until she could deposit the tray on the top of the bar before she focused on the gray-striped Tabaxi leaning against the wall with her furry arms crossed. Her feline features were schooled in an expression of calm that Lira knew all too well, and even her whiskers didn’t twitch as she stared across the room.

The last time Lira had seen Cali, or Caliqua as she was formally known, had been months ago when they’d been standing on a high cliff staring at the spot in the churning sea where their friend had fallen. Lira had been certain then she would never see Cali again after she walked away.

As Lira tracked the flick of the Tabaxi’s tabby-striped tail, she understood how wrong she’d been.