Page 34 of Wizards & Weavers (Cozy Questing #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Braiden gave the wizard a hard look, scoffed, then went back to attacking the bush. The nerve of him, being all deceptive and defensive about his dungeon sealing and his elemental stone. Snip. Clip. And a snip again.

And then Braiden froze in place, shears wide open like a crab’s pincers.

He stared hard at his work, studying the bush.

Surely he couldn’t have sheared off an entire section of wood in his anger.

Why was this bit so perfectly angular, like — he felt so silly thinking it — like the back of a chair?

Nature didn’t work this way, at least not nature as he knew it.

He sheared and sheared some more, twigs and leaves falling faster, drawing the occasional annoyed glance from Augustin.

Braiden thought the wizard deserved the extra work for being such a jerk, but he wouldn’t have stopped clipping either way.

With every snip, he was exposing more of this strange bush’s structure.

It was a chair’s back, after all — and a chair’s seat, and a chair’s four legs.

Braiden gaped at the newly revealed chair. They weren’t cleaning this room up so Elyssandra could move new furniture in. It was growing furniture on its own! This elven house wasn’t just fully furnished — it was fully furnishing itself.

“Unbelievable,” Braiden breathed.

“No,” Augustin snapped. “What’s unbelievable is how you and I both entered the dungeon for such forgivably similar reasons, and yet I’m the villain for being a tiny bit secretive about my purposes.

I never had impure intentions. I meant every word I said from the start.

If there is danger in the dungeon, then I will seal it — at the source, if that is what’s necessary.

I’ll leave the rest of the dungeon intact.

There. Would that be enough to make you and Grandmother happy? ”

Braiden blinked, watching as the wizard panted and wheezed, so much of his rant expressed in a single breath. He pointed at the freshly exposed chair.

“I was talking about this thing, actually. It was hiding in the bushes. Unbelievable. That’s what I meant.”

The wizard deflated, his shoulders rounding. The anger fell from his face, quickly replaced by embarrassment.

“Oh. R-right. Elyssandra did say that — never mind. Look. You wanted to keep your family’s business afloat.

Maybe I wanted to start something of my own, all right?

I came to Weathervale as soon as I heard a dungeon had appeared outside town, but the more I learned about its inhabitants, the more I built up hope that I could find what I needed here.

Yes, I wanted to assess the dungeon’s safety, but was it really so awful to get a piece of the pie for myself, too? ”

Braiden set his gardening shears flat on the floor. “The dungeon is a very large pie, to be fair. Several layers of it, too. You know, maybe it works better if we think of it as a cake.”

Augustin chuckled, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “Fine. Let me show you.”

He collected a pitcher of water from among his tools, along with a single matching glass.

The Wizard of Weathervale was very wise indeed, knowing to stay hydrated in this warm indoor weather.

He reached into his comically inflated pocket and pulled out the whistle stone, still issuing its strange little song.

“Remember the pool of water in the luminous cavern? The one with all the fizzy water. Remember how I said that bringing it out of the dungeon didn’t make any sense? You’d just run into elementals on the way. They might break all your bottled water. A waste of a trip.”

He dropped the stone in the pitcher, then waved his hand over it, whispering a soft, small spell. The water bubbled and fizzed. A moment later, the whistle stone leapt out of the pitcher. Augustin caught it in one hand, then gestured at the water.

Tiny bubbles raced up through the liquid, dancing merrily, exactly like the fizzy pool water.

“What if I could make my own fizzy water any time I wanted?”

“You’d make a killing at the night market,” Braiden breathed. Augustin had found a way to make his dream elixir a reality. “Weathervale loves to try new things. And with all these adventurers around, you’d have so many willing customers.”

Augustin scratched the back of his neck. “It does feel a bit awkward for me to use my reputation this way, but I’ve been on the road so long. Stopping tidal waves and saving princesses sounds all grand and heroic, but adventuring takes its toll on a man.”

The sloped shoulders, the tired eyes. It was clear what the wizard wanted. Braiden poured himself some water, watching as it bubbled in the glass. He took a tentative sip, then nodded in approval.

“It could use some sweetness. Otherwise, it tastes no different from the stuff we drank from the pool.”

“You see now?” Augustin exclaimed, holding the damp whistle stone out on the flat of his palm.

“These things are reusable, at least. It takes a specific infusion of wind magic to make them work the way I want them to. But if I’m to take this enterprise to scale, I’m going to need more whistle stones. ”

Braiden folded his arms and smirked. “Whatever happened to being tired? This sounds like trading one exhausting career for another.”

“I’m only keeping things in mind for the future,” Augustin said.

“Planning, as it were, in case Weathervale truly is so welcoming of my concoctions. So, what do you say, weaver? Let’s put aside our problems. I’ll take your word that you never had sinister plans with my grandmother.

You’ve been forthright about finding something to save your shop, and now I open myself to you. ”

“Agreed.” Braiden offered his hand. “No more secrets. We work together.”

Augustin clasped his hand and shook it. “No more secrets.”

“What’s this about secrets?” Elyssandra piped up from the door.

She was peeking in past the threshold, fingers digging into the doorframe like she’d been listening the entire time. Warren’s long ears poked into the room, his body just out of sight.

“Nothing,” Braiden grunted, “and never you mind. You two are so nosy.”

Augustin swept his hair out of his face and chuckled. “To be fair, we did spend a good bit of time yelling at each other.”

“It’s awfully nice of the two of you to clean up in here,” Elyssandra said, slyly changing the subject. “But you should know that the room can handle itself. The leaves fall off and fade away over time.”

“Then what was all this effort for?” Braiden threw his hands up and turned to the wizard. “Did you know about this?”

Augustin only shrugged. “I needed to work out some of my emotions. And it made for good exercise.”

“And I’m just tired and sweaty,” Braiden grumbled.

“Oh, look!” Elyssandra pointed toward the back wall. “Your bed must be ready, Warren.”

His bed? Warren took a running start and dove into something that resembled a very, very large flower. He landed in a pile of petals big enough to use as blankets, slipping his legs under layer upon layer of velvety covers. He wriggled into a comfortable position, wearing a blissful grin.

“Wait,” Braiden said. “Are you saying we’ve been cleaning up for Warren this entire time?”

“And you didn’t even have to,” Elyssandra reminded him.

“But thank you all the same,” Warren said, eyes shut, still smiling.

“How come Warren gets his own bedroom?” Braiden asked.

This time Augustin scoffed, visibly offended. “The cottage makes room when it’s needed. I told you. That’s what Elyssandra said. Isn’t that right, Elyssandra?”

She nodded. “The cottage must have decided there was good reason for the two of you to stay in a single room together.”

“Right. And that was for me to learn that Augustin sleeps naked and snores like a dragon.”

“Well, I never,” Augustin said, stomping dramatically for the door.

Warren sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide open, ears standing at attention. “What’s this about sleeping naked I’m hearing?” Incorrigible, really, every inch the gossip that Elyssandra was.

“Well, now you’ve gone and done it,” Elyssandra said, shaking her head at Braiden. “Look. Augustin’s sulking again.”

But Braiden knew that he wasn’t. He caught Augustin’s smirk on the way out. Something between them had shifted after that handshake. Braiden would still take every opportunity to annoy and tease him, of course, and he was prepared to take it as often as he dished it out.

“He’ll be fine,” Braiden said, smiling.

“If you say so. But what’s this about whistle stones?” she asked.

Warren twisted around in his new bed until he was lying on his stomach, elbows planted on the edge of the mattress, his chin in his hands. “And what’s this about my grandmother promising you moongrass filament?”

Braiden shook his head and tutted. He should have known there would be trouble keeping secrets from sharp-ears and long-ears. Then again, it wasn’t as if he and Augustin had made any real effort to keep their voices down.

And so he told them everything, inserting apologies to both his friends whenever it felt necessary. The two of them shrugged it off.

“I think Augustin has the beginnings of a very solid plan,” Elyssandra said, a twinkle in her eye. “I will, of course, be one of his first, most loyal, and very loudest customers.”

“And all this business about the moongrass sounds good to me,” Warren said, still on his stomach, his feet kicking lazily at the air. “Burrowfolk basketry and magic weaving? Who knows what you might discover? I support it.”

Braiden really couldn’t have asked for better friends.

By the time he returned to his bedroom, Augustin was already finished with his bath, a towel wrapped around his waist. He gave Braiden a languid smile and swept an arm toward the lavatory.

Braiden chuckled, then gathered his night clothes before heading in for his own bath.

When he emerged from the lavatory, he found the Wizard of Weathervale already tucked under the covers. Braiden knew he wasn’t asleep because the rafters weren’t rattling from his thunderous snoring. He still tried to be polite about it, slipping quietly under the covers on his side of the bed.

He was very much lying when he implied he didn’t like sharing a room or a bed, of course. Braiden might never admit it out loud, but this, of all things at the end of the day, was especially nice.

“Psst,” Augustin hissed. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Braiden said, following the lie with a small chuckle. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you. I’ve met all sorts of adventurers on my travels. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself quite like I’ve enjoyed myself with you.”

Braiden held still. “With me, and Elyssandra, and Warren, you mean.”

“Well, yes, with them, too. But you know what I meant.”

This was new, the wizard being so earnest and vulnerable. Did he really like Braiden that much? Adventuring with him, of course. That was what Augustin meant, wasn’t it? Braiden swallowed, so grateful that Augustin couldn’t see him reddening in the darkness.

Augustin stretched his legs out under the covers, the sheets rustling as he breathed a long, satisfied sigh.

“I didn’t come back to Weathervale expecting to make new friends.

Imagine that. I ventured far and wide in search of adventuring companions.

There were good people waiting for me in my hometown all along. ”

Braiden smiled. That made two of them, then. He always thought he could use more friends, and now he had several more. Not a lonely tomato anymore.

“I’ve been so long on the road that — you know, I never really thought about it. I don’t even have a home, Braiden.”

Something sad twisted in Braiden’s chest. He’d never thought about that, either. The adventurer’s burden.

“And you like your grandmother well enough,” Braiden said, “but one of you might end up murdering the other if you moved back in.”

The sheets rustled again as Augustin chuckled. Braiden was surprised to hear his laughter so close to his face. In the dark, under the sheets, the wizard had turned to face him.

“See, you understand me. You get it. All this time out in Aidun — maybe I’ll go adventuring again one day. But for now, I’m just — I’m very tired, Braiden.”

And Braiden knew what the wizard meant: tired of their adventure of the day, but also of his days on the road.

It must have felt strange to wander Aidun without someplace to return to.

But if the wizard moved home to Weathervale, Braiden would get to see him more often.

That didn’t sound like a bad thing at all.

Braiden had his home in the shop, up in the attic of Beadle’s Needles. Decades ago, a young Bethilda Beadle had her own dream of setting down roots and setting up shop in Weathervale. Who was Braiden to discourage the wizard’s dream?

“You’ll find somewhere to stay,” Braiden said. “I’m sure of it. When this is all over, I’ll help you find the perfect home.”

Augustin’s breath came rushing over the pillows, warm and smelling of mint. The sheets rustled again as his arm stretched out, as his fingers sought the crooks between Braiden’s fingers, clasping gently, palm against palm.

“You’re wonderful, you know that? I’d like that very much.”

A molten warmth coursed through Braiden’s body, pooling in his chest. He’d never been told he was wonderful before. Before he could answer, Augustin’s breathing had settled into a peaceful, steady rhythm. He was fast asleep and still holding Braiden’s hand.

To the best of Braiden’s recollection, Augustin Arcosa did not let go the entire night.

And neither did Braiden want him to.