Page 8

Seven

The village was a fair sight more appealing in the day. The thatched roofs that had swollen with rain the night before were now drying under the relentless sun, and the whitewashed buildings had been scrubbed clean by the storm. But even with the blue sky and warm sunlight, the air was crisp, making Lira wish her cloak wasn’t back at the tavern, covered in mud.

Wayside had always been a speck of a village with its buildings pressed together as if sharing warmth against the wilderness beyond, the high-peaked roofs facing off across the main thoroughfare. The Tusk & Tail stood weary sentinel across from the old mill, where the great wheel groaned lazily in the stream. Across the stream from the mill, the combined blacksmith and wheelwright squatted low and solid, the workshops run by an orc couple, steam and smoke rising from their forge in lazy spirals.

Lira turned away from the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal and wheel splashing water, heading toward the town square. She could already hear the chattering of vendors at their stalls and the creak of carts rolling over sodden roads.

It was all so familiar, such a powerful reminder of her childhood, that a pang twisted her heart. She’d thought she was too quest-hardened to feel nostalgia, but with each step down the road more memories rushed back, and the ache in her chest pulsed like a festering wound. Lira rubbed the spot below her collarbone as if she could smooth out the bittersweet twinge.

“So, this is home?” Sass asked, taking quick strides to keep up with Lira’s longer legs.

Lira slowed her pace and glanced down. “It was.”

The dwarf swiveled her head from side to side. “Not a bad place, this. Why would you leave?”

Lira thought about how much to tell. She liked Sass. She got a good feeling from her. But that didn’t mean she was foolish enough to trust her fully. Not yet.

“My gran died.” She kept her gaze fastened on the road. “I didn’t have any coin to pay off the debt on her farm, which meant I didn’t have a home. Even if I’d taken up the offer of lodging from my gran’s best friend, I needed a change. I needed to see something beyond this village.”

“I guess we have something in common after all.” Sass didn’t look at her. “I wanted to see more than what was hidden beneath the mountains.”

Lira had seen enough of the Ice Lands to understand that sentiment completely. Unlike the rolling hills of Elmshire, that burgeoned with halfling holes, or the elven city of Lananore, that perched on alabaster cliffs and hid walkways and bridges beneath glittering waterfalls, the Ice Lands were merciless and unwelcoming .

As they continued down the road that was flanked by rows of shops, Lira recognized the chandler on one side, strings of tallow candles swagged across the front window, and the tinker’s shop tucked beside it, its windows murky with dust and a closed sign hanging in the door.

Sass put a hand on her arm. “Do you smell that?”

Lira drew in a breath as she followed the dwarf’s gaze to the shop on the other side of the road. The door was thrown open, which explained why the air was heavy with the aroma of fresh bread. “The baker, Pip Brambleheart.” She remembered the baker’s brother, Fennigan, or Fenni, who owned the cheese shop next door to the bakery. “And the cheese monger.”

“Halflings?” Sass asked, her tone hopeful.

Lira nodded. Halflings were known for their skills as bakers and cheese mongers. Not only did they relish eating the most delicious breads and cheeses, they loved to make them.

“We need some bread and cheese, don’t we?” Sass was already heading for the shops, her step quick.

They did. Even if she tried her hand at baking, Lira had no intention of attempting the rustic loaves and morning buns that were Pip’s trademark. And they could hardly buy a loaf of bread without some tangy cheese to go along with it.

Lira followed Sass into the shop, tipping her head to the smiling gnome leaving with a basket hooked in the crook of her arm. Inside, the back wall was lined with shelves jammed tight with baskets turned on their sides, and those were, in turn, crowded with flour-dusted loaves. The yeasty aroma was pungent enough to make her swoon. Lira’s stomach gurgled with a sharp reminder that she hadn’t eaten in, well, when had she last eaten?

“Bless the stars!”

Lira couldn’t see where the voice had come from, although she tracked the sound to the pine counter. Then a head popped up, revealing the baker himself. Although Pip’s hair was decidedly grayer than when she’d last seen him, he looked much the same. The same oven-warmed pink cheeks, the same squat nose, the same dimple in his chin, the same flour dusting his face and hair. Even the forest-green waistcoat under his burlap apron looked like the one he’d worn so many years ago.

“Mr. Brambleheart.” Lira smiled at him as memories flooded back—him sneaking her a warm morning bun or passing her a knobby loaf of bread and insisting she give it to her gran as thanks for her sharing a recipe. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He bustled from behind the counter, taking her hands in his small, calloused ones that were as warm as the loaves he sold. “You can call me Pip now that you’re all grown up.”

From this angle, Lira could see that his wiry hair was speckled with bits of uncooked dough and perhaps honey glaze.

He peered up at Lira, his eyes watering. “And look how you’ve grown. Your gran…” He sniffed and dropped her hands after squeezing them, hurrying back behind the counter. “Well, enough of that. What can I get you now that you’ve finally come home?”

Lira wanted to tell him that she wasn’t home for good, that she hadn’t decided if she would stay or not, that she wasn’t sure if she could, but she couldn’t bear to say any of that. Instead, she waved a hand at Sass. “My friend and I are helping fix up The Tusk & Tail.”

Pip’s already large eyes widened. “Are you now? Well, that’s a job.”

“You said it.” Sass eyed the tray of golden-brown buns lined up at the ready on the counter. “And we’ve worked up an appetite.”

Pip nodded as if he’d been given a particularly delightful assignment, and he rubbed his plump hands together briskly. “You’ll need some honey-drizzled buns and at least one loaf of malted brown bread.”

“And you can’t eat brown bread without a wedge of farm cheese.”

Lira twisted her head to see Fenni ambling over from the door between the two shops as he wrapped a triangle of buttery-yellow cheese in paper. His brown, brushed-velvet waistcoat hugged his belly, the wooden buttons clinging valiantly to their buttonholes. Like his brother, his hair had grayed over the years. Unlike his brother, his clothes were pristine, his hair was brushed neatly to one side, and it didn’t contain bits of food.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr.— ”

“Fenni,” he said with a broad smile. “You know, I always knew you’d come back.” He flicked his gaze to his brother. “Didn’t I always say that, Pip?”

Pip bobbled his head. “He always said that.”

Sass produced a net bag Lira hadn’t even known she’d brought, tucking the proffered items snugly inside without question. Lira fished out the copper bits, but the halfling brothers waved her off.

“Your coin isn’t good here. Not today, at least.”

Lira looked from one brother to the other but they both flapped chubby hands at her. She sighed. “Thank you. I know we’ll enjoy it.”

“Hurry back,” Pip said as the brothers waved them off, stepping outside the shops to watch them walk away.

Sass patted the bag. “I can tell already that my waist will not thank them.”

As they passed the next shop, Sass inhaled sharply. Lira cut her gaze to the hats displayed in the glass storefront and then to the dwarf’s curly hair she contained in a tight braid. “The haberdasher?”

“Fabric,” she said. “Have you seen the moth holes in the tavern curtains?”

Lira hadn’t noticed curtains at all. “Why don’t I let you handle that while I pop into the shop next door?”

Sass craned her neck, her brow crinkling. “The apothecary?” Then she twitched one shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

As Sass disappeared into the haberdasher, Lira pivoted to the apothecary and walked straight into someone so tall and barrel-chested she staggered back.

Hands grabbed her arms and steadied her before she stumbled, and Lira’s hand went instinctively to her waist where no blades were hooked. Hells, why had she left her daggers behind?

“Apologies.”

The deep voice was soft and steady, nothing like Lira would have expected from such a large creature. She tipped her head back. Correction, a large orc wearing the armor of a guardsman. His dark eyes held hers even as he released his grip on her arms.

“It’s not your fault,” Lira said, her breath suddenly quick. “I didn’t look before I turned.”

He didn’t reply, but he didn’t look away either. As Lira stared at the orc who was surprisingly handsome, a flicker of recognition tickled the recesses of her brain. Had she encountered him in one of her quests? She didn’t remember a hot orc guardsman being stationed in the village when she’d lived there, and she felt sure she would have remembered him .

“Have you newly arrived in Wayside?” he asked, his black eyes never leaving hers for an instant.

Lira bobbed her head, wondering how much she should tell him. If he was asking in his role as guardsman, she didn’t want to appear suspicious. “I’m helping out at The Tusk & Tail.”

This prompted a quiver of his dark brows, but he made no comment. He only grunted and stepped aside as another guardsman, this one a tall woman with gold hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, strode across the street toward him.

Lira cast a final glance at the orc, whose gaze still lingered on her, before ducking through the door to the apothecary, the bell overhead tinkling to announce her arrival. She stepped inside the dimly lit shop as her racing pulse steadied itself and her eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

How had the guardsman unsettled her so profoundly by only uttering a handful of words? Maybe that was why he’d affected her so. His penetrating gaze had done the job of an entire conversation and had left her heart pounding and her mouth dry.

Lira gave herself a mental shake. Getting rattled was not something a rogue could afford. Then she drew in a breath and was quickly grounded by the familiarity of the quiet shop.

A single sconce flickered by the door and illuminated the dark wood shelves lining the walls, the compartments holding black-glass bottles with elegantly calligraphed paper labels boasting their contents: worm wort, bone powder, newt eyes, belladonna. While the bakery had teemed with the aroma of yeast and sugar, warmth spilling from its doors, this shop was hushed and cool and smelled of a thousand different oils and potions all melded together. The cacophony of scents should have been an assault on her nose, but instead it was as comforting as a warm blanket hugging her shoulders.

The jingle of the bell drifted into silence as the door closed behind her. Lira’s gaze fell on the olive-skinned woman behind the counter. Her black hair was shot through with silver strands that glinted in the candlelight and her green eyes were as shrewd as they’d ever been.

“Hello, Iris.”