Page 7

Six

Lira put her hands on her hips as she stood in the doorway to the tavern’s kitchen. If neglect had a smell, it would be the blend of rancid grease and festering ale that greeted her now. Beside her, Sass wrinkled her nose, which Lira suspected might soon become a permanent tic.

"I've seen prettier sights in a troll's outhouse,” Sass muttered.

Lira snorted, but she couldn't disagree. The kitchen was a far cry from the bustling heart of the tavern she remembered from years past. Back then, The Tusk & Tail had been known for its hearty fare and warm atmosphere. Now, neglect clung to it like a shroud.

“We have to earn our keep somehow.” Lira shoved up the sleeves of her clean tunic and then gave the points of her burgundy waistcoat a firm yank.

“Aside from protecting the place from goblin burglars?”

She slid a side-eye glance at the dwarf, who wore a clean pair of brown trousers topped with a linen shirt and none of the armor she’d boasted the night before. “Aside from that.”

Lira assessed the empty hearth that slumbered on one wall, its stones blackened with soot. A rustic stove squatted nearby, the iron surface rusty and flaking. At the center of the room sat a massive wooden table, its thick legs nicked from years of use and its surface piled high with teetering stacks of pewter bowls and dishes. Tarnished copper pots dangled from hooks on the walls, their once-gleaming surfaces now dull and mottled.

The floor was sticky, the counters grimy, and she could only imagine what creatures were hiding in drawers and cabinets ready to scuttle out. Yet beneath the layers of dirt and deterioration, she could see the hint of what the place had been—and what it could be again. The place had potential, just like Sass.

The dwarf snatched a bristle broom from the corner and pivoted on one foot. “I’ll start sweeping the other room.”

“Coward,” Lira called after her.

“You’re only sore you didn’t think of it first,” came the dwarf’s muffled response along with a chuckle.

“Too right,” Lira said as pulled down a yellowed apron from a hook near the door and tied it around her waist. She moved to the wood table and ran her fingers over an exposed corner.

Unbidden, a memory surfaced. Usually, she pushed away memories of her past, but this time she closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

She was a child again, barely tall enough to see over the counter in her gran’s kitchen, but clinging to the edge with small fingers. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and butter from the pot bubbling and hissing on the stove, its rich aroma making her mouth water .

"Come here, little one.” Her gran’s wrinkled hands beckoned her closer, palms chalky with flour. "It's time to roll the crust.”

Lira had eagerly climbed onto the stool and let her gran guide her hands onto the mound of stiff dough. She’d been solemn and attentive, even when it pillowed between her fingers, watching in awe as her gran's deft movements transformed the lumpy mass into a perfectly flat disc.

“One day you’ll make this apple tart for your own little ones.”

The memories of the sticky dough, the rich sauce that was poured over the slices of apple, and the crust that became golden and flaky as it baked in the oven were so strong Lira could almost taste it.

A pang of longing jolted her back to the present, her gran’s voice fading as quickly as it had appeared. She blinked rapidly, pushing away the ache of loss that always accompanied thoughts of the past. There was no time for regret or daydreaming. Not when there was work to be done.

Lira found a rag that wasn’t too filthy and set to scrubbing the counters, grateful for the distraction to focus her mind. As layers of grime gave way to the worn but solid wood beneath, she moved piles of dishes, rearranged utensils, and began creating space.

From outside the swinging half-doors, the sounds of off-key humming drifted in as Sass attacked the floors with gusto. The dwarf's enthusiasm was almost comical, given how spectacularly off-key she was, but Lira didn’t dare utter a word of critique. At least the dwarf was a hard worker and didn’t complain.

Once the table was scrubbed clean, Lira straightened and rubbed the back of her neck, daring to let a spark of excitement creep in. “This place isn’t a total disaster. There’s a good set of mixing bowls, and the pans hanging overhead are good quality. They just need a decent scrubbing."

“Aye, if you say so.”

Lira jumped, putting a hand to her heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! ”

Sass leaned on the knobby handle of the broom. “No one’s ever accused me of being quiet enough to startle them before.”

Lira remembered the clatter the dwarf had made trying to break into the till and wasn’t surprised.

“You were in your own world, talking away to nobody,” Sass said, although her tone wasn’t judgmental.

Lira couldn’t tell her that she’d been talking to her gran, running things by her like she often did, though not always out loud. Better the dwarf think she was talking to herself than communing with a woman long dead.

“What do you plan to do with this place once it’s clean?” Sass asked.

“The tavern used to be known for its food. Not fancy, but solid fare. It could be again.”

Sass huffed out a breath. “I hope you aren’t counting on me to help with the cooking.”

“Didn’t you learn to bake when you were a child?”

Sass made a face. “Dwarven fare isn't known for being fancy, and I’ve never known a dwarf mum to relish baking. About the only thing I can make is a decent bean soup. Now, if you want to learn how to throw an axe, that I can teach you. My gran made sure I could split a hair at fifty paces."

"Axes, huh?" Lira grinned. "I suppose every family has their own traditions."

"Speaking of." Sass eyed Lira. "I didn't know elvish females were known for their cooking skills."

"I'm only half elf. My gran—the one who taught me to cook—was human."

Sass's face brightened. “Only half-elf? Is that so? Well, that makes me like you a bit better."

Lira couldn't help but laugh at the dwarf's blunt honesty. Despite their rocky start, she was beginning to actually like Sass. Who would have thought she'd enjoy the company of a failed thief—and a dwarf, no less ?

Lira didn’t think of herself as an elf, despite her lineage, but the friction between dwarves and elves went back so many generations it was almost engrained in her to be suspicious of them. Not that she didn’t also have reason to be wary about the elves, who possessed natural magical abilities that they kept for themselves.

Lira pulled a copper pot from its hook on the wall and began to polish it. “My gran was a wonderful cook, especially when it came to pastries—fruit tarts, meat pies, spice cakes, scones.”

"Grognick’s beard, woman," Sass groaned, touching a hand to her belly. "You're making my stomach growl something fierce.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Durn lumbering through the swinging doors. The tavernkeeper’s perpetual scowl softened slightly as he took in the improved state of the kitchen.

He grunted, which Lira took to be high praise. "Not bad. There's some bread and cheese in the pantry if you’ve worked up an appetite.”

Sass grinned but Lira squared her shoulders. “Actually, if you could spare a few coins, I could whip up something a bit more substantial. Might be good to test out the kitchen, see what it can do after all this time.” Then she slid a glance toward Sass. “Neither of us want to deal with a hungry dwarf.”

Sass opened her mouth as if to protest, then shrugged and grinned. “So, you do know dwarves.”

Durn's bushy eyebrows pressed together, but after a moment of consideration, he fished a handful of copper bits from his pocket and plunked them onto the table. “Find Boden in the market. He’ll give you the best prices, especially if you tell him it’s for the tavern.”

“Boden,” Lira repeated to imprint the name in her memory. She didn’t remember a Boden from her childhood in the village, but that had been a while ago.

“My wife’s brother,” Durn added before turning and leaving the kitchen.

Sass raised an eyebrow at Lira, but neither of them commented. Lira took off the apron and draped it over the worktable, slid the copper bits off the counter and into her pocket, then jerked her head at Sass. “You staying here?”

The dwarf propped the broom against the wall and fell into step beside her eagerly. “And let you do all the picking? Not when I have some ideas for how to spruce up the main room.”

Lira didn’t know how far the copper bits would take them, but there was no arguing that the tavern needed all the sprucing up it could get. “You like to redecorate taverns when you aren’t looking for work as a fighter?”

Sass strode out the back door behind Lira. “Let’s say I’ve been in a few taverns, and I know what makes a good one, and I left the bar in Eldu a sight better than when I arrived.”

“As long as The Tusk & Tail doesn’t look like a dwarven mine.”

“You’ve clearly never seen the inside of one,” Sass said under her breath.

Lira didn’t correct her. She would take the tale of sneaking into a dwarven mine to her grave.

As they walked along the stream behind the tavern and headed toward the center of the village, her own gait slow so Sass could keep up, Lira didn’t care if they appeared to be an odd pairing. It had been months since she’d been in the company of a friend, or at least someone who wasn’t an adversary. She’d forgotten how much she’d missed it.