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“And I said, ‘Well, what I want to know is, how did the chicken get up there?’” declared Dancer. Everyone laughed.
Asp had come to consciousness in that sudden way, where the fullness of the moment in which you awaken is a tiny lifetime of sensory input. The silly tone in Dancer’s voice. The intake of breath from the gang before laughing, as if gasping in surprise at the joke. The softness of the lumpy couch at her waist, but the spareness of the padding at her feet. The vague dizziness and slowness that could be grogginess, ash stupor, or, more likely, a combination of the two. She noted the pulse of the headache that follows ash, which feels like every vein in your body is itchy from the inside and your brain is trying to force itse way out of your skull. She raised her head up over the couch and faced the gang.
“Where my bag?” she blurted, her eyes opening and closing slowly. Then upon hearing herself, she corrected, “Where is my bag?”
“Poor baby,” said Candace, a wide smile on her face.
“You hungry?” called Jehosaphat.
“My BAG,” moaned Asp.
Annabel hurried to a chair by the wall, plucked up Asp’s satchel, and brought it to her. Asp fished her hand around in it for a moment, and then pulled out a long strip of rough dark brown tree bark. It smelled like a mixture of cranberry and chamomile. Asp swallowed hard, then took a big bite of the bark.
“Whoa!” cried Kyrn. She looked to the rest of the gang. “Should we be stopping her?”
Gregorio shook his head and offered a faint smile. “Guarri bark. From Eunax. Chewing its bark soothes headaches.”
Through a mouthful of increasingly soggy tree bark, Asp added, “And yes, I hungry.” A few crunches of tree bark. “I am hungry.” A few more crunches. “Wha’s wrong with you? Nobody talking.”
When Oslo spoke, his voice was grave. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Asp closed her eyes gently to focus on speaking clearly. Without opening her eyes, she asked, “And it can’t wait til I’m a person again?”
Asp heard a low whistle from Jehosaphat’s direction. “Damn, kid, it’s that bad?”
“She had enough to put me down.” Kyrn’s voice was equal parts concerned and impressed.
Asp opened her eyes. Everyone was staring at her. Jehosaphat was fixed in place, watching her. “Is that true, Asp? Did you take enough to hurt yourself?”
Asp tried to fight the desire to argue with them. “It’s not like that. I wanted to make sure it hit me, that’s all.”
“Oh,” said Jehosaphat as though this explained everything, “you’re new to ash, so you took too much.” He cocked an eyebrow at Asp. “Right?”
Oh, please sound legit. “I guess so,” she said, layering in a bit of defensiveness at the idea of being naive. “I don’t want to die, if that’s what you mean.” Her tone was conciliatory, almost deferential. “I know having a teammate with a deathwish is bad. That’s not what this is.” Asp employed a specialty of her with this last line: she inflected her voice to lie on the line between decisiveness and suggestion–an idea communicated between equals, but where one treats the other as a superior. It was a skill that any con needed. She hoped that the other cons in the room wouldn’t notice it.
“Good,” said Oslo. “You seem clear now. Can we talk?”
Asp looked at the faces of the rest of the gang. No one seemed agitated enough about the idea to worry her. She chewed a bit on the Guarri bark, nodding.
Oslo led her to a corner of the warehouse and pulled a few chairs over for the two of them, and the rest of the gang save for Kyrn settled in for a round of cards on the opposite side–Kyrn instead sat and watched, listening to the conversation around the game.
Oslo had his arms crossed at his abdomen. He looked tired, or perhaps just a little worse for wear. “Asp, I need to know what the pendant does. I don’t know if you know yet what it does, but I need to know.” His eyes had been locked on hers the whole time.
Oh no, she thought, her headache almost held at bay by the guarri bark. Not this now. I can barely talk.
“Oslo,” she said, pronouncing his name like a favorite to speak aloud, “I think I know what it does, but I’m not really sure enough to say one way or the other.”
“Well, what did it do when you used it yesterday?” Oslo said, his interest cutting through the calm demeanor he was trying to embody.
“I feel like if I tell you now, you’re going to make plans about how to use it.” Asp tried to focus on sounding deferential despite her message. “And then, when it turns out that I was wrong and it does something else, all your plans are ruined–your efforts wasted.” She shook her head. “Give me more time. Let me be sure. What’s a week when we’re rich anyway?” She smiled when saying the word “rich.”
Oslo stroked his goatee. “I don’t like it. And you knew before you said it that I wouldn’t like it.” He frowned. “Which means you really believe what you’re saying. And I have to admit, you’re right about the planning. So I’ll give you some time. Let’s say three days–you already got yesterday, so then today and tomorrow–tell me what it does tomorrow night. Deal?”
That was less of a fight than I was expecting. But then, until tomorrow is less time than I was hoping for, so I guess that works out. “Deal,” she said, and they shook hands.
“Now,” Oslo said, loud enough for everyone to hear, ”it’s time for what we’ve all been waiting for. Go on,” he said, and Kyrn, Annabel, and Dancer ran into one of the back rooms of the warehouse. Annabel returned a moment later with a lockbox, and Kyrn and Dancer pushed in a large safe on wheels. Candace clapped as the safe entered the room.
“Proud of yourself, are you?” teased Jehosaphat. Candace laughed. Jehosaphat turned to Asp to explain, “The safe is Candace’s own design.”
“Yup,” said Candace, pride on her face. “The locksmith we got to make it said if there was a bigger market for something like this, it would become the most popular kind of safe out there.”
“Is it, like, really hard to break into?” asked Asp, allowing a bit of the ash stupor to steal back over her now that attention was not focused on her.
“You could say that,” said Candace, smiling as though she held a great secret. She knelt to the safe, a three-foot cube with a large dial on the front. She turned the brass dial this way and that in smooth motions, pausing at five different numbers, and the safe clicked open. Candace pulled the safe door back to reveal nine smaller safes in the style of the larger one on the front. She pointed to the smaller safe compartment in the lower right corner. “That’s yours.” Oslo handed Candace a key, which she inserted into a small hole in the top of Asp’s safe. A mechanical click sounded. “The next five numbers you turn it to are your code,” explained Candace. “None of us will know it, and the reset key is hidden somewhere that only Oslo knows about.”
“And I only had it today because I knew we needed to add you to the safe–otherwise I don’t carry it around,” Oslo explained. “Meaning anything you put in there is probably more secure than putting it in a bank.”
“Well, thanks everybody,” said Asp. “I guess as soon as I got something to lock up,” she started to say, her mind straying to the coins behind the chimney stone.
But Oslo interrupted. “You do, actually,” he said, pulling out the tightly-wrapped brown paper package that Melwi had given him. The gang crowded in closer together. He tore the papery wrapping away to reveal dozens of glittering blue gems, each with an intricate emerald cut.
Dwarven sapphires? thought Asp. Melwi doesn’t mess around–those are worth at least fifteen crowns each. We really are rich.
Oslo grinned. “Our take from the museum heist: one hundred dwarven sapphires. Seven percent goes to expenses and petty cash: seven sapphires. Eleven percent funds finding our next job: that’s eleven more sapphires. Reimbursing Gregorio for funding from the museum heist: nine sapphires. We went with my job, so I get a three sapphire finder’s fee. That leaves us with . . .?”
“Seventy sapphires,” mumbled Gregorio.
“Okay, so there’s eight of us now,” continued Oslo. “That divides out to almost ten each–what is it exactly, Gregorio?”
“Eight and three-quarters sapphires each,” replied Gregorio.
“Right, except for one small thing,” said Oslo, turning to Asp. “You were vital to the job. But in fairness, you didn’t do the legwork.” Oslo was winding up for a longer speech, but Asp saw where he was going and cut him off.
“You’re absolutely right,” she interrupted. “I wasn’t here for the beginning, and I know that that’s often the hardest work. I don’t take for granted what you all have here. I’ll take what you think is fair.”
“Does six sapphires sound fair to everyone?” asked Oslo, his voice sounding more like a statement than a question.
Asp could see that Annabel and Candace began to visibly react, and she tried to prevent Oslo from noticing. She quickly said, “Sounds plenty fair to me!” She hoped that the lack of cheerfulness in her voice would be attributed to ash stupor.
Gregorio nodded to himself. “We’ll add the remaining two and three quarters sapphires into maintenance and perhaps improving this place,” he said almost to himself.
“Actually,” said Oslo as he passed out brimming handfuls of intricately-cut sapphires to each member of the gang. “I have news on that front. I think we could all benefit from an arrangement that grants a little more . . . privacy.”
Oslo’s words had stirred up the gang. Curious, they listened closely.
Savoring their attention, Oslo continued. “I thought maybe if we all had private rooms, we’d be a bit more comfortable.”
“We’ve discussed this,” said Annabel, her voice delicate. “Any house that big would be outside our price range and totally within the sights of the authorities. What’s changed?”
Oslo pointed at Annabel to indicate she had struck upon the right idea. “Unless you found a place that was neither.”
“But . . .” began Dancer. “But what kind of eight-bedroom manor is ignored and cheap?”
Oslo grinned. “A haunted one.”
A deep silence fell over the gang. Then, an explosion of reactions.
“You’re crazy!” Candace cried.
Kyrn was skeptical. “It’s not even possible, is it?”
“Is it really haunted?” demanded Dancer.
Jehosaphat closed his eyes and shouted, “Give him a minute!”
Oslo smiled and smoothed his vest. “I made contact with the owner of Lithyan Estate after Gregorio did the legwork, and they have agreed–after much coaxing, mind you–to allow us to investigate the house before buying. If we go and feel it’s not right for us, we leave, nothing lost.” He stood still, a hopeful look on his face, and waited. “Everybody gets a private room,” he tempted them. “We get to be in the center of town instead of on the edge.”
Asp spoke up, surprising most everyone. “So there’s a well-known house in town, and we want to live in it? Doesn’t that make us public figures? Not exactly ideal for any of us.”
Oslo twirled his mustache. “Not if no one knows we live there.”
“But how would that work?” asked Annabel, curiosity making her voice rise.
“We only ever enter the estate stealthily–nobody sees us go in or out. If people report seeing lights or hearing voices, we tell them it’s ghosts. And the seller wants to leave town after they sell the place, so there’ll be no one who even knows the place has an owner.” Oslo finished his description of his plan and waited.
“I think we should see the house,” muttered Jehosaphat.
“Agreed,” said Kyrn, enthusiastic.
“Agreed,” echoed the rest of the gang.
“Okay,” said Oslo, pleased with himself. “Go enjoy breakfast and meet back here by noon.”
-
“Can you believe that Dancer wanted to go to the ‘all-meat’ breakfast place?” asked Kyrn. “I’m Ronan'el, and even I wouldn’t eat three pounds of meat first thing in the morning.”
“I think he wanted to avoid disrupting the girls’ morning out,” said Candace. She waved her hand in a circle between herself, Kyrn, Annabel, and Asp. “We’re an intimidating bunch.”
Annabel laughed and spun in a circle as they walked through town. “A paid bunch, too. And not bad, either. Should be good for at least a few months if we’re careful.”
The money is good, but it could have been better, thought Asp. For me, anyway. “What’s all this about those different charges Oslo was taking out of the pot?” she asked. “Expenses? Funding the next job? Finder’s fee? What is all that?”
“Oh, it seems crappy at first, but it’s actually a good thing,” said Candace, a smile on her face. “Expenses means that some of the money goes to maintaining the warehouse, keeping guards away with bribes when we have to–it covers all the food and drinks we have back at the warehouse, and we used money we saved from that to commission the safe.” Her voice grew warm with pride again when she mentioned the safe.
“Oh,” said Asp, blinking in the morning sun. At least the headache is starting to fade. “That’s nice.”
“Right? The next job thing is helpful because–you know how there’s always stuff you run into that you need during a job?” said Candace, excited to be explaining things. Asp thought of the various costumes and props she had needed in her career and nodded. Candace smiled and continued, “We have money set aside for that. It also means we can dream bigger because we have a fund for it.”
“That makes sense,” said Asp, trying to keep pace with her taller companions.
Candace smiled. “And the finder’s fee is–well, we have this system. When we finish a job, we all spend some time–usually a week, maybe two–looking for leads. We’re basically scouting. We do this independently. The idea is that when we all come together, everyone has a feasible lead on a job. We discuss which plan is the most secure and worth our time, and we move forward. Then, when we get paid, the person who scouted the job gets a bonus.” Candace gestured with wild abandon as she finished speaking, her eyes alight.
“Oh, that’s actually pretty cool,” said Asp, though she wasn’t really sure how she honestly felt about it. It was still hard to think clearly.
“Here it is,” said Annabel, coming to a halt. “Best breakfast in town.” She was looking up at a dwarven bakery. “Kitchen Forge” read an ornate sign on the outside of the building, a mural of various baked goods wearing traditional dwarven armor on the wall–a scone in a spiked helmet, a muffin with a squared shield, a loaf of bread in a chained cuirass, and so on.
“Let’s get a seat. I’m dying of hunger,” moaned Candace. She took a big stride forward, then stopped and turned back to Asp, reaching out her hand. Asp looked curiously at Candace’s extended hand, not understanding why she was offering it. Candace saw Asp’s hesitation and turned back to the bakery, heading inside.
Amidst her swirling thoughts, Asp wondered how long it would be until the ash stupor would wear off. In the past, it would have been over by now, but she had stayed away from ash for a while, and her tolerance seemed to have receded a good bit. She still wasn’t sure what from yesterday had been real. She glanced up at the sun. About an hour and a half until we check out the spooky mansion. I hope I’m cleared up by then. Maybe a dense pastry will do the trick. She entered the bakery and rejoined her friends.
-
With a bellyful of grainy croissant, Asp was following her friends back towards the warehouse. Breakfast had been fun–Annabel and Kyrn had realized halfway through the meal that they preferred each others’ orders and switched, Asp had done her best impressions of the male members of the gang to applause from the others, and they had all speculated as to what they might do with their newfound wealth. But Candace hadn’t been her normal self. She had seemed distracted, preoccupied somehow. Asp had only seen her like this in times of duress. So what’s the matter?
They arrived at the warehouse and found that only Jehosaphat was there. “They’ll all be back soon,” he said. “Hey, Asp, come let me ask you a question.”
Kyrn, Candace, and Annabel all joined in a chorus of “Oooooh, she’s in trouble!” and fell into laughter.
Jehosaphat laughed to himself, then gestured Asp over. “No trouble, I swear.” His tone backed that up.
Asp walked over to join Jehosaphat at his rocking chair. She felt more or less like herself again. “What’s up?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he whispered. He was so quiet, in fact, that Asp had to lean in close to hear him. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but there are two lies I think we need to talk about. The first lie was yours. I know this wasn’t your first time with ash. A real first-timer overdose, they would have taken the whole cube. You left half of it. You knew what you were doing. So either you were trying to hurt yourself, or your tolerance is higher because you do this stuff a lot. Neither of those is good news. Explain yourself.”
Asp stood stock still. Her mouth felt dry. She blinked a few times, then whispered as low as Jehosaphat. “I’ve done it before. More than a little, less than a lot.” She paused, glancing around. “It’s neither thing you said before. I’m not a junkie, and I’m not trying to die. I’m a casual user, and I just wanted to push things. I’m not a danger to the gang.”
Jehosaphat considered for a moment, then nodded. “Good enough for now.” He looked down suddenly, as if self-conscious. “The second lie.” He swallowed. “Oslo got you to admit to something this morning, and I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. You were in your ash stupor, and he knew it. He knows more than you want him to, Asp.”
Asp’s mind raced. What did I tell him? “What are you talking about?” she asked.
Jehosaphat’s face was grave. “He didn’t know your pendant does anything. He just acted like he knew, and you gave him everything.”
Asp slumped forward. The oldest trick in the book: act like you already know. You’ve gotta be kidding me. She sat back up. “Not everything,” she added after a moment.
Jehosaphat’s eyes grew wide. “You know what it does?”
“I have a pretty good idea. I need to run some tests, really pin it down, but yeah,” said Asp, her thoughts elsewhere. “I think I know.”
“And is it something that would help or hurt the gang?” Jehosaphat sounded very detached from the question, as though he was afraid of the answer.
“If I’m right, it can only help,” replied Asp. She looked back over to the gang’s women, talking animatedly on the other side of the large room. At least, I hope it can only help. She turned back to Jehosaphat. “Thanks for letting me know. Which–why would you tell me? Why would you want me to know that Oslo knows?”
Jehosaphat got a distant look in his eye. He started to speak, then reconsidered and sat in silence for a moment. Finally, he said, “We make a deal, we in this gang. We use the tools we have to help ourselves, and sometimes that means helping each other. Oslo knows that, but sometimes his instincts make him forget.” Jehosaphat’s eyes were faraway, and he stared past Asp. “So I work twice as hard to never forget, and to make sure that he can’t go too long without remembering. Because, Asp–and you have to remember this–if we can’t trust each other, we’re going to see each other not as allies but as marks, and that means all this falls apart.” He was still staring into the middle distance, as though Asp weren’t really there, and his voice never raised above the whisper he’d used all along. “It all falls apart, and probably in spectacular fashion, which means we all end up in jail or worse. So we have to remember, always remember, to be fair to each other. And if Oslo isn’t fair, I’ll set the balance right. If I can, anyway.” He broke off, turning to meet Asp’s eyes. “Do you understand?”
Asp considered Jehosaphat–not his question, but the man–for a long, hard moment. He seemed such a strange con. Perhaps he’s playing me against Oslo. But why? I can’t make sense of this old man. The only thing that makes consistent sense is that . . . but can he really care about what’s right? She reflected on her own thought: Do I care about what’s right? Images of past jobs, of estranged family, of painful moments alone reeled through her head. Is it possible to be a moral con? Would you even want that?
She shook herself from her thoughts. “I believe I do.”
Jehosaphat smiled, and Asp believed it to be either a genuine smile or the best fake she had ever seen. Either seemed possible.
And then it hit her: I’m more suspicious of Jehosaphat than Oslo. I don’t trust the person who claims to spread the truth any more than I trust someone I know to be lying. Ain’t that something. She breathed deeply. Hmm. I think I can trust him. Maybe more than anybody else right now.
The door swung open, Oslo grinning in the frame with Gregorio and Dancer right behind. “Everybody ready to see our new home?”
-
The gang had broken into two-person teams and taken different routes to Lithyan Estate, a three-story building on a side street near the center of town. Several of its windows were covered in nailed-on boards, and the others had tattered shutters closed over them. The building looked like it was one of the oldest in the city, but it was hard to tell how much of that was simply the lack of care given to the manor.
Oslo gestured towards the scattered pairs to convene in the alleyway on the west end of the house. They all gathered out of the direct view of the public near a boarded-up door.
“Dancer, Kyrn,” instructed Oslo, “you two go check out the door on the other side and see if it’s any more accessible and how private it is. Annabel, Jehosaphat, see if the backdoor is worth considering. Everybody else, check ground floor windows to see if we have any easy entry points.”
The gang dispersed. Asp began to pace the length of the building along its backside. She noted that several of the windows would be low enough for most of the gang, but without help from a ledge or boost, she, Gregorio, and Dancer would be unable to enter that way. However, she also noted that a large shrub which seemed to have overgrown without attention blocked the view of the third window from the west end, making it a pretty ideal entrance and exit for privacy. She turned and headed back to the west edge to rejoin the gang.
Assembled again, the gang discussed what they’d found.
Dancer said, “The east door is out of view unless you’re on the side street. Looks like it’s been boarded up pretty solid for a while.”
Jehosaphat nodded. “That’s good because the backdoor is pretty obvious from any of the nearby buildings. It’s out.”
Asp piped up: “But the third window down on the back is blocked by a big shrub, so we can use that in a pinch–those of us who can reach, anyway.”
Candace spoke up. “Front side is a wash. Too many eyes.”
“There’s bars on the windows on the east side,” Annabel said, shaking herself off. ”Kinda spooky.”
Oslo completed the circle by adding, “West side windows are also a little too high for all of us. Sounds like the side doors and the window behind the plant are our best bet–we can get a crate or something for a step up behind the bush if need be. Everybody still in?”
“Seems plausible so far,” said Candace, scratching her chin. “Let’s see the inside.”
Oslo led them around to the back entrance and looked around. “Should be here any minute,” he said, tapping his fingers against his side.
An old elven man came around the corner. He wore a long silk robe of blue-green and a monocle pinched between brow and cheek. He saw the group of people at the back door and approached. “Mr. Templeton!” he said with pomp.
“Mr. Pilliu!” thundered Oslo, giving the elf a firm handshake. “So glad to finally be here.”
“Yes,” droned Pilliu, “and so glad to make all of your acquaintances. I hope you’ll understand if I skip past introductions and show you the house.”
“Fine by us,” said Oslo, his smile growing. “We’re businesslike folk ourselves.”
Pilliu produced a brass key and unlocked the back door of the house. It opened into a room with hallways leading off in every direction; the room itself seemed a place to store things.
“The utility room,” said Pilliu with a wave around them. “Or a mudroom, more colloquially. Meant as a space to dress for the weather or undress for home. For your purposes, I’m sure it can be a fine entryway if you have few storage needs.” He gestured down the hallway straight ahead. “To the staircase and the main hall.” He waved down the hallway to the right. “To the living room and kitchen.” He pointed down the hallway to the left. “And there’s the library and study.” He took a few tentative steps toward the center hallway. “All the bedrooms–all nine of them–are on the second and third floors: five on the second floor and four on the third–one of those four is the master bedroom.”
“Which will of course be mine,” said Oslo with a bright smile. Pilliu laughed out of politeness.
“Oh, are we picking rooms?” said Dancer, his eyes bright. “Oh, I’m gonna pick the best one!” he cried as he sprinted down the hallway and up the staircase.
“Not if I get it first!” yelled Candace, following closely behind.
In a moment’s time, everyone but Oslo, Jehosaphat, Asp, and Pilliu had run off to claim rooms.
“I would like to see the kitchen,” said Jehosaphat.
“This way,” said Pilliu, striding off towards their right. Jehosaphat followed.
Oslo waited until they’d left. “You believe in ghosts?” he asked.
“I dunno,” said Asp, unsure what his game was.
“Well, why don’t you go pick a room. Maybe you’ll see one.” Oslo flashed a smile. Asp had started to notice slight differences in his smile–how much his eyes smiled along with his mouth, how much of his incisors you saw, whether it seemed calming or threatening.
If you want me out of the room, just say so, she thought. “Okay,” she said, and she padded down the hallway to the stairs.
As she climbed the stairs, she heard the slight creaks of aging boards underfoot and adjusted her steps to make less sound on the old stairs. She saw the outlines of pictures once hung on the walls where the wallpaper had been discolored around the picture frame by sunlight over years. It seemed a pleasant enough place–simply one that had been forgotten by time. Down one hallway of the second floor, she heard shouts and laughter.
“This one has two windows!” shouted Dancer.
“This one has a huge closet!” yelled Annabel.
“I think this one’s a little bigger than the others. Mine!” cried Kyrn.
Asp noted that there was an empty room on the end of the hallway that was unoccupied. She poked her head into the room, which had a window which was not boarded up and a slot on the wall to hold a torch or lantern. An old bedframe with a firm mattress sat along the left wall. This could do. The bed over there, a chest right here, I can put my costumes over there, and–wait a minute. She focused her eyes on a knot in the wood of the wall on the east side of the room. That looks like it’s got a hole in it. She approached and poked her finger into the knot only to discover it was a hole and not a knot at all. She ran her finger around the inside of the hole, and it budged when she did so. She pushed it to the left–nothing–and then to the right–it gave way and slid. A panel of the wall about five feet long moved, revealing a small chamber.
Asp poked her head inside and looked around. There was a seat built into the wall, or perhaps a shelf for a small bed. The rest of the space, stretching from the far wall to the main wall with the door, was open. A secret room. Tight for big folks, but almost spacious for me. She closed the concealed door with herself inside.
It was dark. So I could hide out in here if need be, but not comfortably, she thought, glancing around in the darkness. But how bad would things be before I had to hide in my own home? She sighed. I guess better to have it and not need it than the other way around. She slid the secret door open again, slipped outside, and closed it behind her. She thought of what Jehosaphat had said earlier about Oslo. Maybe I keep this to myself.
“Group back up, everybody!” came Oslo’s voice from below.
“Group back up,” repeated Annabel from the second floor upward to the third.
Asp headed down the stairs and rejoined Oslo, once again with Jehosaphat and Pilliu. The other members of the gang sauntered in.
“Well,” said Pilliu, looking the gang up and down. “Do we have a deal?”
“Can I confer with my associates, Mr. Pilliu?” asked Oslo, his voice warm.
“But of course, Mr. Templeton. I’ll give you a moment.” Pilliu bowed and left the room.
“Well, folks–what do you say?” Oslo asked, a pleasant tone in his voice.
“It does seem pretty nice,” said Annabel, looking around in wonder. “Lots of space.”
“The kitchen’s big enough that we could actually cook for all of us at once–” said Jehosaphat, all smiles, “–no more meals in shifts.”
“Doesn’t seem haunted, neither,” said Dancer, a strange smile on his face. “That was my main concern.”
“Anybody see a ghost?” asked Oslo. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The gang laughed, but Asp heard Pilliu breath in sharply from the other room. He’s had a hard time selling this place, she thought. Ghost rumors are enough to keep almost anyone away. It looks like we and Mr. Pilliu are both coming out ahead on this deal.
“So no objections?” asked Oslo a moment later.
“Let’s do it,” said Dancer, pumping a fist in the air.
“I’ll handle the business end of things,” said Gregorio, . “Please move my things with the rest we bring over here,” he added, going to join Pilliu.
“Welcome to our new home,” said Oslo, pride radiating from him. “Free drinks for whoever thinks of a new name for this place.”
“I’ll drink to that,” cried Dancer.
-
“It just reminds me of home, you know?” Candace was hanging a muted tapestry of elven design on the wall in her room. Asp was lying on Candace’s bed, watching her decorate. “Every time I see it, it’s like I’m a little girl and my mama is telling me all the stories about elves of old, and I’m wrapped up in a blanket she made.”
“That’s nice,” said Asp, her imagination working overtime. What would that be like? To look back on your life with peace? She suddenly remembered days before when Candace’s anger had set off, thinking Asp was mocking her troubled past. A little bit of peace, anyway.
“Do you want to go shopping tomorrow to buy things for your room?” asked Candace, placing her collection of black outfits into a dresser. “I need to get a footlocker with an actual lock on it–no offense–and I’d love a few more things for the walls.”
“I guess we could do that,” said Asp. She sounded to herself like she was far away.
“Asp!” cried Candace, smiling. “Are you here with me? Where are you?” She plodded across the room and plopped down on her bed next to Asp. Their heads were close together, and strands of Asp’s sandy hair intermixed with Candace’s white hair between them. Candace’s tone was bright and mischievous. “I’m talking about getting things for your room. Are you paying attention?”
Asp considered Candace. She seemed quite insistent over a minor thing like buying art and furniture. What is going on with her? “I’m paying attention. I was just thinking about something else for a minute. Please don’t take it personally,” said Asp.
“Take it personally?” said Candace, her tone rising. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Genuine hurt shone in her eyes.
Asp looked at Candace in surprise, then collected herself. She placed her thumb onto her pendant. A loud snap, a yellow flash.
“I’m talking about getting things for your room. Are you paying attention?” Candace’s tone was bright and mischievous.
“Of course I’m paying attention. Let’s get your stuff, and I want to pick up a few seamstress’s dummies.” Asp’s voice was as smooth and sweet as honey.
“Dummies? What for?” Candace rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Asp.
“I don’t need them, but I like having my costumes on dummies. I had them back in Thistlewade. My mom was a seamstress, so I got comfortable with those things around–it’s probably where I got the idea in the first place.” Where did that come from? I’m just sharing my past for no reason? She shook her head and continued. “It makes them feel like more than a pile of clothes to me? Like they’re really . . . real, you know?.” Asp drew the shape of a mannequin in the air as she spoke.
“I don’t know, really,” said Candace, shaking her head. “But if that’s what you say works for you, then let’s find the best dummies in town.”
Asp smiled. From my biggest enemy to my biggest supporter. “Hey Candace,” she said just above a whisper.
“Yeah?” asked Candace.
“I’m sorry.” Asp looked away from her, anxious.
Candace furrowed her brow. “For what?”
“For saying the wrong thing,” said Asp.
“But you didn’t say the wrong thing,” insisted Candace.
Asp smiled at Candace and hoped it was convincing. She was thinking, Yes, I did. You just don’t remember it.
You can read the next chapter here!
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