Page 22 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

Halvard’s practically boiling behind me. Somehow, I can feel his displeasure. But thankfully, he keeps it to himself.

“How about we meet on Nocturne in Leafshire Cove? The festival takes place in the main square, so you can’t miss it. Meet me an hour before dusk at the dessert table.”

Osric accepts the information and nods, smiling. “Have you ever studied the origin of Nocturne?”

“I haven’t, but now I want to,” I say, feeling excited.

“Perhaps we can make a study of it together?” Osric's thin eyebrows lift.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Good,” Osric says. “I’ll see you then, and we can discuss more about the similarities and differences in our hometowns’ celebrations.”

My mind churns around the etymology of the wordnocturne. I love that Osric is interested in trivial subjects. I’m the same way.

The trader looks up at Halvard, a tinge of worry in his eyes. “I would invite you to join us at the Nocturne festival, but of course, that wouldn’t quite make sense, would it?” He laughs.

I chuckle along with him, feeling oddly like a traitor.

Halvard’s nostrils flare slightly, but other than that, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Thank you, Osric. I’ll be quite busy at the pub, I imagine. Festivals bring in travelers by the wagonload.”

Halvard isn’t coming to the festival at all?

“Aye, that’s true here as well,” Osric says. “The market is rather crowded now.” He leans past me and looks out the other end of the corridor. “Listen. Why don’t we meet before then as well? We could have tea at The Steaming Kettle. It’s on the north side of the market on the main road. You can’t miss it. Ten in the morning sounds all right? After that, I will take you on a tour of my warehouse near my docks.”

I try very hard to ignore Halvard’s looming presence.

“That would be wonderful,” I say, pleased that Osric is interested enough in our potential partnership to show me his place of business.

“See you then,” Osric says.

Halvard and I say goodbye, the orc’s words far more terse than I wish they were. The sun pours onto our heads as we exit the tunnel, and we charge back into the busy marketplace. Halvard picks out a few apples and two meat pies for us, then we find a quieter spot to sit by the sea. The sand is soft and white; boulders dot the area and make for a perfect set of table and chairs. The pie is lovely—sage, squash, and sausage fill the flaky shell.

Halvard drinks from his waterskin, and eyebrows lifted in question, hands it to me. I accept it and down a swallow of cold water.

“I’m off to visit my cousin once we’re done here, if that’s all right,” he says.

“Of course.”

“I’d love for you to meet him if you’d like to. You can learn more about orc culture. But a warning. He has an absolute bevy of younglings, and I think you’ll love meeting Aila, his wife.”

I don’t have anything else to do at the moment. We have all day until the party. “If we can drop off our purchases at the inn and check on Tamar first, I’m in.”

Chapter 12

Halvard

At Magnus’s house, my cousin Magnus pulls me into a strong hug, and I slap his back.

“I didn’t think it possible for you to grow even fatter, Magnus,” I say teasingly.

He bellows a laugh, and Rychell flinches beside me. Magnus’s eyes widen as he looks from her to me.

“This is my friend, Mistress Rychell of Leafshire Cove,” I say. “She’s a spice merchant and we’re here on business.”

Magus takes her hand and kisses her knuckles chastely. “Lovely to meet a friend of my dearest and ugliest cousin,” Magnus says.

I punch his arm hard enough to make him wobble to the side. “Enough kissing of my friend, Magnus,” I say.