You can read the previous chapter here!
“Safe travels!” shouted Solana as the few people who weren’t staying on the ship disembarked. “Enjoy Afira, make sure to get some authentic elven food, and don’t get into any trouble I wouldn’t!” She waved to Asp to punctuate her point, and Asp waved back. The crew mostly stood at the edge of the ship; Kraken and Solana stood side by side, Raven beside a few sailors next to them. Hrothgar joined them and searched the crowd. When he saw Asp, he gave her a hearty nod, which she returned before hurrying into Lo’Torrin.
Asp moved from the docks into the larger city and noted that Solana’s description had been quite accurate. Lo’Torrin seemed at once to be a city of elven character–many if not most of the people here were elves, and the buildings all bore the remarkable angles of elven architecture. But it was also very much like Strey. She could see the invisible dividing lines between the various quarters of town: the residential district held hundreds of modest elven homes; next to it, the finer buildings with religious insignias marking the official section of the city; beyond them was the buzz of the marketplace. She smiled and hurried towards the sounds of commerce.
Part of Asp’s brain struggled to process what she saw in the market. It was eerily similar to the market back in Thistlewade in shape and style, but the vendors all sold wares that she struggled to identify. Elven bread? she thought, considering a triangular roll. She looked carefully at a colorful robe with pockets stitched across its torso. Dignified clothes? She shook her head to herself. I have a lot to learn.
A merchant with bags of spices waved Asp down, and Asp was calmed by the fact that the merchant was, like her, a slightkin. She stepped up to the table with the spices in small silk bags and smiled. “Good morning.”
The slightkin woman behind the table adjusted an elven-style hat and smiled back. “Morning,” she said. “Want a taste of home?”
“I don’t really know how to cook,” said Asp anxiously. “Thanks, though.”
The slightkin considered Asp quietly. “You coming from Eunax?”
Asp shrugged. “In a way.”
The slightkin grinned mischievously. “A traveler. Have you heard the news from Lowglen?”
Asp stood stiff. “No, what happened?” she asked seriously.
The slightkin’s grin disappeared. “Oh, that’s not what I meant. If you’re from the eastern lands–Eunax, Strey–it’s a different phrase. Uh . . .” She stared upwards, thinking. Her eyes lit up. “Oh! I have the time in Hammergrad.” She smiled again. “If you’re curious.”
Asp’s eyes widened. “Oh, I see. Um . . .” It would be nice to just conk out for a while. Settle in a little easier. She gently chewed the inside of her lip. But I don’t think ash has served me well in a long time. “No thank you,” she said. “But if you do hear news from Lowglen, I’d love to hear it.”
The slightkin woman assumed a polite smile. “I’ll keep an ear out,” she said flatly.
Asp nodded and scurried on. Ahead was a table with various metal shapes–something that looked like a steel crab, another that had a few adjustable arms and surfaces, a brass disc with a glass display on top. An elderly newtkin man blinked in the morning sunlight behind the table of gadgets, and Asp stepped up.
“Morning!” she said sweetly. “How are you?”
The newtkin looked back at her kindly. “Good morning. I’m well. How are you?”
Asp smiled. “Good! Just arrived in town, and I’m getting the lay of the land.”
“Welcome,” said the newtkin. “Can I interest you in a demonstration of my products?” He gestured to the devices before him.
Asp nodded. “Please do.”
He smiled and picked up the steel crab. “This is a little automated helper,” he explained, pressing a button on top of the crab’s body. It buzzed and began to move, its several legs guiding it along the tabletop. “It has a basic sense of its surroundings,” the newtkin added as the crab neared the edge of the table and turned, walking back along the bulk of its surface. “And it responds to simple instructions.” He turned towards the crab. “Stop,” he pronounced carefully, and the crab powered down, sinking to the tabletop.
“Wow. That’s cool. What can you do with it?”
The newtkin slumped his shoulders. “Not much, admittedly. It’s still a prototype.”
“And this one?” She pointed to the device with arms and surfaces on it.
“A book holder,” he said, and lifted a large book onto the biggest surface. He adjusted the arms to hold the pages of the book in place. “It keeps your page.”
She smiled politely. “Very handy. If you’re a reader.”
“Not much for books?” he asked.
Asp shrugged. “Haven’t had time to read in a while, and then I didn’t have a book to keep me company.” If I had had a book in prison? If only.
The newtkin looked wistful, and he turned his eyes to the brass disc. “This measures air pressure.”
“Air pressure?” repeated Asp.
The newtkin frowned. “It’s how much force the air around us exerts on us.”
Asp blinked a few times. “The air has force? Like wind?”
He laughed ruefully. “Not wind, no. Air does have force, technically. It’s a small thing, but I think it affects the weather. I’ve noticed that lower air pressure days get rain more often than others.”
Asp’s eyes lit up. “You could sell it to farmers!”
He shook his head. “No farmer yet has believed me that air weighs something.” He looked down. “Oh, I’m a miserable businessman. None of my ideas make any coin.”
Asp looked sadly at him. “You just need a good business idea?”
He nodded. “I’d pay someone for an idea that would actually work.” He placed his hands on the table to steady himself. “Now I just need someone who’s smart enough to have a brilliant idea, but who doesn’t want to do the work to get the money.”
Asp thought for a moment as the newtkin spoke. Something people want but can’t easily get. Something that would be relatively easy to solve. Something I don’t want for myself. She was quiet for a time. “If I have an idea, will you be here?”
The newtkin nodded. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”
She waved. “See you round. I’m Delia.”
“Hugo,” he replied. “Hey, let me tell you something: be careful in the area between the market district and the foreign district. There’s a big three-story house that looks boarded up, but it’s actually the home of the nastiest people in the city.”
Asp nodded solemnly. “Rich folk?”
Hugo spat. “Thieves. They’re not masterminds, but they know how to avoid the guard. So a clash with them means no help from the guard.”
Asp’s eyes bulged. No guard attention? This sounds promising. “Thanks for the info. Three-story house on the border? What color is it?”
“Dark grey, almost black. Dark brown shutters. At the corner of the intersection that leads south.” Hugo breathed deeply. “I’d just stay away from that part of town altogether.”
Asp smiled. “I will. Thanks.” She placed a hand on the table. “See you soon with that business idea.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “Welcome to Lo’Torrin.”
Asp grinned. I have my bearings and a lead. Time for a place to stay. Something nice, or at least nice-ish. Nothing that will remind me of prison. She shuffled into the foreign quarter, pleased to see that the shapes of buildings varied here as they did in Strey–there was a little bit of everywhere here. She allowed herself to get lost in the shuffle, her eyes wide and her ears open. Into the commotion, she disappeared.
—
Asp had walked two complete circuits through and around the foreign quarter, and she was beginning a third. She had narrowed the list from the several dozen possible inns down to three potential places to stay. Either the slightkin one, the red brick one, or the one next to the big intersection. Let’s see how the slightkin one looks on the inside. She cut a path down a wide, busy road and ducked into a small inn with both common tongue and slightkin language signs.
At the desk was a young slightkin man who was sleeping, his head on the counter. Asp quietly walked up and knocked on the desk; the young man jerked to wakefulness and looked around, bewildered. “Trees on the Lake Inn, how help can you?”
Asp stifled a giggle.
“Ugh,” he said, rubbing his temples. “How can I help you?”
“Do you have any rooms?” she asked.
“Um . . . not right now, I don’t think.” He turned and faced a board with hooks, only one key dangling on the hooks. “Uh . . . yeah, that’s the shop key, so, no, we’re booked up. Sorry.”
“Not to worry,” said Asp sadly, looking around the room. It really reminds me of home. Funny how a tapestry and smaller architecture makes a difference. “Have a good day.” She turned and left, melting back into the city. She wound back to the center of the foreign quarter and reoriented herself. The red brick one could be good. She walked down a street and then up a flight of stairs into the lobby of the next inn.
A red-haired dwarven woman smiled at Asp, watching her come in. “Done wandering?” she asked.
Asp furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
The dwarven woman smiled broadly. “I watch the neighborhood to make sure nothing’s up. You’ve walked by three times now. Casing the joint?”
Asp froze. “No, of course not! I was–”
The dwarven woman laughed uproariously. “You were looking for the inn that would be nice enough to stay at, not give you a hard time for being a foreigner, and not charge you an arm and a leg.”
Asp smiled. “Exactly. Do you have any rooms?”
“You’re in luck–just had a dwarf leave earlier today. The room’s clean–I swear.”
Asp chuckled. “I trust you.”
“Madge,” said the dwarven woman cheerfully. “And you are?”
“Delia!” Asp stepped up to the counter. “Nice to meet you.”
Madge grinned. “You been in town long?”
Asp shook her head. “Got in this morning.”
“You mind if I ask your business?”
Asp was quiet a moment. “Starting over.”
“Starting over as what?” Madge’s voice was firm but kind.
“Someone who makes better choices,” said Asp after a few seconds. “I left a lot of wreckage behind.”
“Hey, that’s okay,” said Madge. “You know, you might be surprised how much difference some time makes. I bet you’ll be able to clean up that wreckage when the time’s right.”
Oh gods, I hope so. “Thanks. How much is it?”
Madge turned and grabbed a key from a small cubby on the wall behind her. “Five caps a day. Four if you pay for a week at once.”
Asp smiled. “What if I paid for a month?”
Madge smiled too. “Let’s say three and a half caps, then. So that would be . . .” She traced a few numerals in the air, her tongue poking out between her lips. “Ninety-eight caps, which is nine helms, eight caps.”
Asp handed Madge a crown. “Close enough.”
Madge smiled and took the gold-pointed coin. “Good doing business with you. So, you’re planning to be here for a while?”
Asp shrugged. “I feel like starting over goes better when you take it seriously.”
Madge chuckled. “That it does.” She handed a steel key to Asp, and her tone went automatic. “The doors are marked–you’re on the second flight up, the room marked nine. We serve meals throughout the day until an hour after sundown, and we start again just before sunrise. And I hope it goes without saying, but no disturbing the other guests or destroying any inn property.” Her spiel done, she returned to her normal tone. “Anything I can help you with?”
“Do, um . . . do guards hate slightkins or something?” She shifted nervously. “I got lots of nasty stares on the way over.”
Madge nodded knowingly. “It’s not slightkins, Delia. It’s anybody who’s not an elf. The people here are fine–they’re used to having us around. But the guards? A lot of them remember a time that Lo’Torrin didn’t have a sizable foreign quarter. And by and large, elves treat other people as . . . as a flock.”
“A flock?”
Madge frowned. “Like sheep. We’re all just mindless, hopeless animals, and they’re our keepers. Everything we do different from them is just a reminder of that. So being a wee one from the other side of the world doesn’t just make you strange–it makes you less.” She folded her hands. “But like I said, that’s not everybody. Most of the elves here don’t care much. You just have to watch for who’s in charge.”
Great. Everybody in power looks at me as a liability or a corruption, even without my past. This is gonna be tricky. “Thanks for the info, Madge.” She hefted her pack onto her back and turned, waving. “I’ll be back!”
“Good luck out there!” called Madge, and Asp climbed back down the stairs and into the city.
She followed the border of the foreign quarter until it met with the market district, and just as Hugo has said, there was a boxy three-story building in dark grey and dark brown, its windows boarded up. People seemed to cut wider paths around the building as though it might hurt them, and she noticed that no one seemed to be going in or coming out. I got time, she thought as she leaned against a nearby building, watching.
An hour passed, and still no one left. She grew impatient, but checked herself. You sat in a jail cell for over a year. You can stand on a corner for a few hours. Relax.
And so she stood, watching, as the morning sun rose and became the noonday sun, and the city swarmed around her. In her mind, there was only her and the building, and all details in between were negligible. She became one with the city, and time became nothing. She stood, watching.
—
The sun began to slant towards evening, and Asp still hadn’t moved. The building had remained quiet, and the city had seemed to not notice Asp as she watched. She grew restless for the umpteenth time that day and once more admonished herself. I’ve spent weeks staking out jobs before. Calm down. She rubbed her eyes and focused again on the house.
Ten minutes later, she was rewarded. A bulky elven man with a close-cropped haircut approached the building, inserted a key in the lock, and entered. Asp’s body shifted from leaning against the wall to full attention–she watched hungrily as he went inside. I need a better view. She wandered apparently aimlessly to another building at a different angle and watched the dark building.
Another ten minutes later, the man exited the building and hurried down the street. Asp went after him, following from a distance of several people. Being small helps sometimes, she thought. He couldn’t spot me if he wanted to. She kept behind the walking people between them, darting out occasionally to watch the man more closely. The man bumped into a passerby and yelled inarticulately at them before punching them in the jaw. The crowd around them turned and saw him–they immediately turned their heads and hurried on. The man continued, walking with a certain swagger, a confidence she recognized. He’s used to winning. She grinned darkly. Not for long.
The man ahead took a corner, and as he cut across the intersection, he bumped into a pair of women–two elves, both fairly young–who were holding hands. They scowled at him, and he began to yell. Asp hurried forward to overhear the conversation.
“Watch where you’re going, you fucking idiots!” the elven man shouted.
“You bumped into us!” cried the taller of the women.
“If you’d been watching where you were going, I wouldn’t have bumped into you,” he spat.
“If you’d been watching where you were going, nothing would have happened,” countered the other woman.
“Fucking ellindar,” he growled.
Asp sucked in a hard breath. Oh gods no. She hadn’t heard that word in a long time, not since it had applied to her and Candace’s relationship–women attracted to women.
The women gasped and hurried on, their faces bitter. The man continued on his way, muttering loudly. “Stupid fucking idiots,” he said as if to anyone who would hear him. “Ellindar scum. Just a bunch of harika.”
Asp flinched. She had heard Candace use that word before, and while she didn’t know exactly what it meant, she did know that Candace had only ever used it when in a fury. Several nearby elves cringed at the sound of it.
Hates ellindar. Total asshole. The worst kind of criminal scum. This guy’s perfect. I don’t have to feel bad about ripping him off. I just have to figure out how.
She was focused on her thoughts and almost ran into the elven man, who had stopped at an intersection. She dodged around him and made a small sound of exertion with the effort.
“Another fucking idiot,” he growled. “You stupid fucking limass.”
Asp blinked a few times. She’d heard the word before from Jehosaphat when he was drunk. Cricket? Infant? She shook her head. What is it? The word suddenly popped into her head. Slug. Nice. “Hi!” she said cheerfully. “I’m–” She stopped. Maybe better to not use one of my names with him. “I’m Blossom. Who are you?”
He glared down at her. “I’m the guy who’s gonna hit you hard if you don’t get out of my way.”
Asp frowned. “I was just saying hi.”
He spat. “Did you not hear me? I’m gonna fucking hit you. You’re gonna be seeing stars. Get it?”
Stars. She smiled. “I get it. Sorry, sir,” she said deferentially. She turned and ran back to the market district.
She arrived at the edge of the market and retraced her steps. She arrived at Hugo’s table just as he was packing up his inventions.
“Hugo!” she cried.
He looked up. “Delia?”
“Hugo, I figured it out!” She wore a triumphant smile.
Hugo cocked an eyebrow. “Figured what out?”
Asp laughed. “The business idea. You’ve been on a boat, right?”
Hugo nodded, uncertain.
“And did you look at the stars?” Asp’s voice was insistent.
Hugo shrugged. “I dunno. Probably. Why?”
Asp laughed again. “Because you see more stars at sea than on land. Something to do with the lights from cities.”
Hugo looked back expectantly. “Okay. And?”
Asp put her hands on his table, all business. “So you get a little boat. You tell people you’re going on a stargazing tour. You load them on the boat at sundown, take them out far enough to see the stars for a few hours, then navigate back to town in the wee hours. You’d just need a skiff or something and someone who could sail in a circle.”
Hugo’s face was slowly dominated by a grin. “Stargazing tours . . . you know, elves love astronomy.”
Asp smiled warmly. “You like it?”
Hugo chuckled. “I love it. If I can find a sailor and buy an old boat, we’re set. It’s brilliant.”
Asp beamed. “I’m glad you like it.”
Hugo chuckled again. “I love it. Let me run some numbers.” He reached down and pulled up an abacus, flicking the counters this way and that. A look of complete concentration covered his face. He slid a few more counters and exhaled heavily. “Okay, so I’ve got two ideas. One, I pay you a small fee for the idea and then later a percentage of the profits. Two, I give you a larger payment now, and I keep the rights to the profits.” He sighed. “What sounds best to you?”
Asp shrugged. “Why don’t you enjoy the business, and I’ll just take the idea fee? I’m not much of an entrepreneur.”
Hugo nodded and withdrew his coinpurse. “Does fifteen crowns seem fair?”
Asp swallowed hard. That’s one job down. “Sounds great, Hugo. Thank you.”
“Thank you!” he cried, passing her a stack of golden coins. “Come back if you have more clever ideas.”
“I will,” said Asp pleasantly. She dropped the crowns into her bag. “See you round.”
Hugo smiled and nodded, and Asp stepped away from his place in the market. She imagined that she could feel the physical weight of the new coins in her purse, and yet she felt lighter than before. Stargazing tours, she thought. I wonder if Mom got to enjoy the stars on her journeys. The city thrummed around her, and she was soon as lost in her thoughts as she was in the burgeoning settlement.
—
As the night sky settled in over Lo’Torrin, Asp returned to the darkened building at the crossroads of the foreign and market quarters. It looked totally different now–bright lights poured from the cracks in the boarded windows, and the sounds of people shouting inside spilled out in muffled bursts. A pair of similarly-dressed men–a dwarf and a stout human, both in fitted dark leather outfits–exited the building, laughing and hollering. She considered them for a moment. They dress like thieves. Shouts of profanity left the men as they crossed to the market district. They swear like thieves. She turned her gaze to the dark building. And they hide like thieves. Now where’s the asshole?
Time passed, and her attention did not wane like it had threatened to before. Eventually, the door swung open, and three people emerged: a newtkin woman with a colorful hat, a squat human man in a green vest, and the elven man she had followed before. She smiled and went after them, again keeping a distance.
The thieves walked together for a while, and then the newtkin and human said their goodbyes and headed toward the docks. The elven man continued on, winding through the residential district. The houses grew farther apart when they reached what seemed to be the edge of the district, and the elven man stopped and stood in front of a small, ramshackle house, another similar one flanking it on each side. Asp quietly padded over to behind the building and waited, straining her ears in case the elven man moved. A few minutes passed quietly.
The elven man stirred. “Fucking late asshole,” he muttered angrily. “Like my godsdamn time isn’t worth anything.”
Asp smiled. It’s going to be so fun when he realizes he’s screwed. Just have to figure out how.
There was the sound of stirring in the tall grass beyond the house. It came closer. Asp pressed herself against the back wall of the house.
“Barusil, I’m so sorry,” said an older elven voice. “I got stopped by a guard on the way over.”
Barusil spat. “I don’t want your fucking excuses. I want to know why there’s only three houses here, and I want to know why they don’t look like we agreed on.”
“I’m sorry,” said the older elf. “Building a home takes time, and what you told me to build won’t work.”
“And why the fuck not?”
The older elf wheezed. “No one could live in the building you described. Look.” The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor sounded from the other side of the wall. A knocking sound came from the wall a few feet away from Asp. “The wall is so thin.”
Barusil was quiet. “The weather ain’t that bad here, Jaelin. They’ll be fine.”
Jaelin sighed. “When the frost comes–”
“Don’t tell me about the frost, moron,” said Barusil venomously. “Tell me how you’ve only built three houses, and it’s been a month.”
Jaelin gasped. “It takes three young men two weeks to build a house right.”
“I’m not asking you to build a house right,” said Barusil, adopting a whiny tone when he repeated Jaelin. “I’m telling you to build the house I told you to build.”
Jaelin was quiet for a moment. “Who’s going to move into a house like this?”
Barusil laughed. “A poor family,” he said. “Someone who’s got no other fucking choice.”
“I can’t do this,” said Jaelin. “You’ll need to find another carpenter.”
The sound of flesh impacting flesh came from inside. Jaelin moaned.
“Do I?” said Barusil, fury in his voice. The sound came again, followed by the sound of Jaelin falling to the floor. “Or do you just need to work harder?”
“Please,” said Jaelin. “I’m sorry!”
“Sorry don’t mean shit, rilpa.”
Asp cringed. Another word that Candace had only ever said in pure anger.
Barusil laughed bitterly. “Listen, old man, you either build my houses–ten by next month–or you find people to help you. But you don’t see a godsdamn cap of what I offered you until I see ten houses. Understood?”
“Understood,” said Jaelin, defeated. “How can I get people to help me? Will you pay them too?”
Barusil laughed again. “They’ll get a share of what you get. I’m not made out of money.”
It was quiet for a time. Eventually, the sound of Jaelin struggling to his feet came through the wall. “Okay,” he said wearily.
“I’d get your dumb ass to work,” said Barusil. “Wouldn’t want to miss that deadline.” The sound of popping knuckles came through the wall. “Trust me.”
“Of course,” said Jaelin. Asp could hear footsteps in the house, and then Jaelin faintly sobbing. She nodded to herself, breathed deeply, and swept around the house to the main door.
Inside was a relatively small elf with spectacles and suspenders. He had a forming black eye behind the lenses, and simple building tools hung from his belt. He looks just like a taller version of Dad. She felt something inside her soften. He looked shamefully at her from inside.
“Excuse me,” said Asp. “Are you okay?”
Jaelin waved her off. “Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Jaelin set his jaw. “Promise.”
She smiled gently. “No offense, but I don’t believe you.” She took a small step towards him. “But only because I just heard all of that.”
Jaelin’s face fell. He turned away from her.
“I can help,” she added carefully.
Jaelin shook his head. “No, you can’t.”
Asp shook her head too. “Yes, actually, I can.”
Jaelin looked at her curiously. “What makes you so sure? Personally, I think that if you know who that was, you’d know there’s nothing to be done.”
Asp rolled her eyes. “Barusil, some kind of gang, substandard housing.”
“Not some gang,” said Jaelin, rubbing his face. “The thieves guild. They’re an international group. They’re powerful, kid. Not to be messed with.”
She considered this. So I’ll be extra careful. She turned and grabbed the edge of a wall. It was thin–just as Jaelin had said, far too thin for a real house. “He wanted to go with less than this?”
Jaelin sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know what he’s planning. No one’s going to buy a house like this.”
Asp shook her head again. “No, people will. I remember a time I would have been eager to live in a place like this.” She thought of the many ratty inns she’d stayed in back in Thistlewade. “Something of your own means something.”
Jaelin looked dizzy and sat down cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the far wall. “You said you can help?”
Asp smiled. “I think I can. But I need you to tell me everything you know about Barusil.” She stared at him. “Everything.”
Jaelin laughed and shook his head. “Barusil is a lieutenant at the thieves guild. He wants to be in leadership, but the other leaders don’t trust him. He takes it personally, and he should. Even by thief standards, he’s a monster.”
Aspiring thief with plans for leadership. That could be usable.
Jaelin continued. “He came to me about a month or so ago. Said he wanted some basic buildings constructed. Swore I’d have a team that I’d be leading. I show up the first day, and it’s just me.” He rubbed his back. “I’ve been sore ever since. You know how hard it is to build a house by yourself?”
Asp looked distant. “My, uh . . . my dad was a carpenter. Built lots of houses back in Thistlewade. He always worked on a team, and it was still hard work. I used to bring snacks by and talk with him.”
Jaelin smiled. “So you know.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s strange. Something doesn’t add up. I still can’t see how Barusil plans to make any money off these things.”
Asp nodded. “I agree–there’s something else going on.” She paused, inspecting the house. “Is this even construction lumber?”
Jaelin shook his head bitterly. “No. This is an elven tree, puwaha. Mostly it’s good for ships since it’s flexible.” He pushed on the wall behind him, and it bowed outward slightly. “Not ideal for houses.”
Asp sighed. “But it’s cheap?”
Jaelin nodded. “The cheapest.”
Asp breathed deeply. “Thanks, Jaelin.”
He nodded. “Thanks, um . . . wait, who are you?”
Asp laughed. “Call me Delia.” She smiled. “I’m a reporter, and I think I know what my next article is going to be. Just a little more research, and I think the city might want to know about Barusil and his plans.”
Jaelin’s eyes went wide. “Whoa! I don’t think you heard me. Messing with Barusil is a bad idea. A very bad idea. When he figures out that you were involved–”
Asp smiled and help up a hand to silence him. “If,” she said. “If he figures out I was involved.”
Jaelin shook his head. “You’re . . .” He sighed. “You’re either completely mad, or you know something I don’t.”
Asp laughed. “Why can’t it be both?”
He laughed too, then returned his head to the wall. “Ooh, what am I gonna do? I need help to build these houses.” He sighed again. “Maybe I shouldn’t build them.”
“No!” cried Asp, surprised by her volume. “No, build them.”
He looked back at her, curious. “I can’t do it alone.” He slumped his shoulders. “And I can’t afford to hire a crew.”
Asp looked at him again. He really does look like Dad. A tear swam in her eye, and she furtively wiped it away. “Yeah, you can.” Her voice was a mixture of defeat and something else–perhaps hope. She fished in her bag, withdrew her coinpurse, and counted out gold-pointed coins. “Here,” she said, handing over a stack of crowns. “You can hire a crew for a month with this, right?”
Jaelin’s eyes traced the edges of the crowns. “You–” He stopped, furrowing his brow. “To hire a crew?”
Asp smiled. “The plan involves taking down Barusil before he gets paid. Doesn’t mean you and the crew can’t get paid.”
Jaelin laughed in disbelief, counting the coins. “Fifteen crowns–that’s more than enough. Here, take these back.” He passed back five coins. “This will carry us through very comfortably.”
“Good,” said Asp, folding her arms. “Remember to hire people who you can trust–people who need the help.”
Jaelin stood and shoved the crowns into his pocket. “You confuse me, Delia.” He smiled. “But I think that’s a good thing.” He walked to the door out of the house. “Please let me know if I can help you in return.”
Asp nodded. “I’ll keep you in mind.” She waved gently. “Good night. Nice to meet you.”
Jaelin chuckled. “You too.”
Asp watched him go, then snuck back toward the foreign quarter, her brain spinning with possible plans. Don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s more to find out before we have a proper plan. She sighed. It better be a good one–Jaelin cost me most of what I made already.
She disappeared into the busy moonlit streets, and she realized with a start that she hadn’t felt the angst from her journey all day.
—
Asp climbed the stairs to the red brick inn and pushed the door open. A pair of pale elven women sat at a table, glasses of wine between them. Madge polished another table, the rag spinning in little circles across its surface. She looked up at the sound of the door closing behind Asp.
“Good evening,” said Asp pleasantly.
“Good night, you mean,” said Madge, smiling. “It’s late. Everything go well out there?”
Asp smiled too. “Pretty well, I’d say.”
“Good for you,” said Marge warmly. “There’s still some dinner leftovers–want some steak and potatoes?”
“I ate on the way back,” said Asp, patting her stomach. “Got some authentic elven food.”
Madge chuckled. “It’s hard not to around here. Let me know if you want something that’ll stick to your ribs.”
“Tomorrow.” Asp headed for the staircase leading up to the next floor.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Madge’s voice was steady. Something in it made Asp turn back.
“I’ll be here.”
Madge smiled sweetly. “Good night. See you tomorrow for that meal.”
Asp smiled back. “Good night.” She turned and climbed the stairs, went down the hallway, and unlocked her door–number nine. She crept inside, locked the door behind her, and laid out her pack. She changed into her purple nightgown and slipped between the soft sheets, laying her head gently on the pillow. The fabric was smooth and light–like silk, but less shiny and slightly thicker. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
A sound below roused her from half-consciousness. She slipped from bed, unlocked her door, and listened at the hallway.
“It’s my damn stuff–I can put it wherever I want!” bellowed a voice below. She could hear the slight slurring of drunken speech.
“Calm down, sir,” said Madge more quietly. “There’s no need to yell.”
“I’ll yell if I want!” called the angry patron. “I paid, and I can yell all night!”
Asp shook her head and crept downstairs. In the lobby, Madge stood about a foot away from an elf with wings.
“I’ll ask you one more time, sir,” said Madge. “Lower your voice and pick up your things.”
Asp studied the winged elf. He had a coinpurse poking out of his pants pocket, and he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Listen, ribell,” he slurred, and Asp could barely understand the elven word for “dwarf” through his thick voice. “You don’t have rights here. I could destroy this place.”
Madge’s smiling expression went blank. “There’s no need for that. I’m just asking you to follow the house rules.”
Asp scowled at the winged elf. What’s with this city? Half the elves are insane. She crept up behind him and carefully withdrew his coinpurse.
“I’m off to find some guards,” said the elf. “Try to stop me.” He strode out the door and down the stairs.
Madge moaned and covered her eyes. “Not again. I barely survived it last time.”
Asp stepped over and placed a hand on Mdge’s forearm. “Just wait. Be right back.” She hurried out the door after the elf, sliding most of the coins from the winged elf’s purse into her own and transferring most of her caps back into his purse.
She spotted him walking slowly down the road and sped after him. She managed to catch up and stepped in front of him.
He glared down at her. “Outta my way.”
Asp looked at him meekly. “I think you dropped this,” she said, holding up his coinpurse.
He snatched at it, but Asp pulled it away too quickly for him. He scowled. “Give it. Now.”
Asp smiled. “Only if you agree not to go to the guards.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s mine. Hand it over.”
Asp held the coinpurse away from him. “Your word.”
He snatched at the coinpurse again, but Asp remained too quick.
“One more of that maneuver, and you’ll never get it back. Now swear.”
“Fine,” he said eventually. “I swear.”
Asp smiled dangerously. “You swear what?”
The elf growled. “I swear I’ll leave that stupid dwarf alone.”
Asp handed back his coinpurse, which weighed the same as it had when he had last held it, though Asp’s own purse now held all his helms and crowns. He took it angrily and stalked away.
He’s too drunk to figure out I switched his coins. And I think he meant it. She nodded to herself and returned to the inn.
Madge was standing behind the counter, staring out a darkened window. She looked over when Asp came in. “Where’d you go?”
Asp smiled and placed one of the crowns she’d stolen on the counter. “I went to get him to pay for his time and make sure he didn’t hassle the guards.” She placed a few helms on the countertop before Madge.
Madge’s eyes widened appreciatively. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” said Asp happily. “I used to work at a tavern–I know how to deal with drunk people.”
Madge chuckled. “Thanks.” She shook her head. “You must have a way with words.”
Asp laughed hard. “I suppose I do.”
“You headed back to bed?”
Asp nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah, I’m exhausted.”
Madge smiled. “Well, good night. Hopefully for real this time.”
Asp smiled back. “Hopefully.” She climbed the stairs once more, returned to her room, and locked herself in. She climbed into bed, once more letting the soft sheets settle around her, and was asleep practically as soon as her head touched the pillow. In her dreams, she told sweet lies to elves that opened literal doors, doors that held untold riches behind them. And as Lo’Torrin settled down to slumber, Asp’s imagination could barely contain her plans for the future.
You can read the final chapter of "At a Crossroads" here!
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