You can read the previous chapter here!
“Blast it!” came Gregorio’s voice down the hallway. “Every damn time . . .”
Asp stole into the room and took the chair across from him. He was sucking on his thumb, a pained expression on his face. Seeing Asp, he removed his thumb and explained, “Burned myself,” gesturing to the still-smoldering pipe in his other hand.
“Switch hands,” said Asp, closing her eyes for a moment after leaning back in the chair. “That usually helps.”
“I don’t see how that could improve the situation,” grumbled Gregorio, but he moved his pipe to his left hand and held his match in his right hand. He ran the match along the surface of the side table he sat next to, igniting the match, and held it to the tobacco in his pipe, puffing with quick breaths. After several drags, he held out his unburned right hand to Asp. “I stand corrected. I take it you’re a smoker–or a former smoker?”
“Not really,” said Asp. “It’s just, holding the pipe is a steady job. You’re right-handed, yeah?”
Gregorio nodded, puffing.
“So your left hand is weak, but it’s good enough to hold on to the pipe. You were thinking better stability with your dominant hand?” Asp sounded as detached as she felt.
“I suppose. That’s how my pa smoked, so I just picked it up from him,” said Gregorio, his eyes distant. “Always felt right.”
“Right. But like I said, holding the pipe is a steady job. Most anybody can do a steady job. So you make your bad hand do that. Meanwhile,” she said, stretching out her own left hand, “striking the match and holding the flame is a finesse job.” She turned a delicate shape in the air with her hand, then returned it to her side with her right hand as though the left were moving of its own volition. “You need your coordinated hand for that. Just like in a job.”
Gregorio let a stream of smoke float up out of the side of his mouth. “You’re talking about the difference between roles in the gang, obviously.” His voice was flatter than hers. “What do you have against Annabel?”
Asp sat up straight in her chair, arms outstretched. “Whoa, it’s not like that!” She listened to see if anyone was coming down the hallway. Then, after a moment, she continued. “I think Annabel’s great. I mean, I haven’t seen her in action, but I wouldn’t wanna fight her.”
“But she’s a steady job, no?” Gregorio looked wicked.
He’s spoken more in the last minute than I’ve ever heard from him before. I’m not sure I like it. “That’s not what I mean. I just mean that there are different roles for everybody.” Asp leaned back in her chair. “Maybe I was trying to say that you couldn’t put me in her shoes. I mean, no one’s going to walk the other way just ‘cause I looked at them mean.” She put on a silly caricature of giving Gregorio a mean look. To her surprise, he actually laughed.
“I probably shouldn’t play with you,” he said with a devious smile, tapping the side of his pipe against his hand idly. “I’ve picked up a few of the ways Oslo gets in peoples’ heads.”
Asp smiled. “Oh yeah, the old, ‘you clearly meant this’ gambit. Puts people, myself included, on the defensive right away. Very useful, at least when you want someone defensive.” She had been looking around the room as if interested in nothing in particular, but now she made intense eye contact with Gregorio. “So why get me feeling defensive?”
“I, uh–I don’t know that I had a reason in mind,” stammered Gregorio.
“You don’t normally have a reason for getting in your allies’ heads?” Asp was trying to lean in closer so that she gave the impression of crowding in on him.
“No!” cried Gregorio. “I was just mimicking Oslo. I guess I don’t know the point of the whole thing.”
Asp narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a criminal, but you only involve yourself as far as money is concerned. You haven’t said or done a non-calculated thing since I arrived.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You might be able to hide in plain sight because Oslo’s around–like hiding a boulder next to a mountain–but I am not a steady hand, Gregorio.” She made a tiny fist in front of herself, then relaxed it into a flat palm. “So why don’t you tell me what your plan for me is?”
Gregorio lit another match, again with his right hand, and held it to his pipe. “Fine, brellin,” he said, pronouncing the slightkin word for “mosquito” in a monotone, “I think you’re too brash. You’re right: I’m cautious. I don’t relish spending one more day in prison than I already have. But you’re young and brave and stupid about risks. You may make us rich, but we’re just as likely to end up behind bars. And in case you haven’t noticed, none of us are real gamblers. We play cards here and there, but we don’t bet real money–only caps.” He stared back at Asp with curiosity. “This gang is a good thing–us being careful at every turn. But you’re getting it into some of our heads that there’s a quicker and easier way to bigger money, and you’re forgetting to tell them that that path comes with free manacles.” He adjusted the dusty hat on his head and puffed again. “It’s nothing personal,” he said just loud enough for her to hear. “I’m just not risking it all.”
Asp sat back and looked up at the ceiling. It was discolored in a few places–mildew, probably, or some light water damage–but fine. It was a roof over their heads, and a good one at that. And she had her own room now. She had people working with her to make all of that happen. She had friends, real friends. Maybe Gregorio was right. Who was she to risk all of it?
“Okay then, gullren,” she replied, pronouncing the slightkin word for “turtle” with a mixture of politeness and gentle joking. “I see what you mean. It would be a shame to throw all this away, and especially to make that choice for everyone else.”
Gregorio stopped moving his pipe to his mouth and looked directly at Asp. He shook his head in disbelief. “You really are good,” he said after a moment, surprised. “I actually believed you meant that.”
“I do mean that,” she said, trying to seem as earnest as she felt.
Gregorio considered this and chuckled. “And I believe you there too. But it’s impossible to know.” He puffed again at his pipe.
Annabel swept into the room, her armor clanking as she did.
“Damn, woman,” said Asp. “Are you ever not wearing fifty pounds of metal?”
“Me taking off my armor is like you doing a pound of ash–not something you want to see,” said Annabel, earning laughter from both Asp and Gregorio. “Besides,” she continued, “I’m more comfortable in it after all this time now.” She turned a delicate side step in the middle of the room, armor clanking away, but without impeding her graceful movement.
“Speaking of which,” said Gregorio, putting his pipe away, “are you in need of an upgrade? I talked the estate seller down a bit, so we have some funds if you think you could use repairs or even something new. Or an upgraded weapon?”
“Oh, you know I get uncomfortable with that,” said Annabel, blushing. “I’m the only one in the gang who really gets to use those funds.”
Gregorio blinked several times, then looked at Annabel. “You are the only one who requires gear beyond lockpicks and clothing. And the better your gear, the better you can do your job, the better we can do our jobs. We all need you to be well-equipped.”
Annabel seemed to be under considerable weight, and not from the armor. “Okay,” she said after a moment, defeated. “My armor could use a repair around the pauldron here and the greaves right here,” she said, motioning to both the right shoulder and left thigh of her suit. “And my hammeraxe has seen better days. It almost split when I had to chop that one door down.” She touched the blade of her hulking weapon like she might hurt it.
“My dear,” said Gregorio, laughing, “that’s because the door was made out of dwarven-forged steel. That you opened it at all is a testament to you and that weapon.”
“You chopped down a metal door?” asked Asp, impressed.
“It was get through the door or get nicked. Besides,” said Annabel with a smile, “it was just a door.”
“Well, give me a moment,” said Gregorio, shaking his head in playful judgment. He hopped off his chair and left the room muttering to himself.
“Wanna come with me?” asked Annabel, some nervousness in her voice.
“Sure,” said Asp easily. “But what’s up?”
Annabel looked shy. She kicked at the ground. “I have to take my armor off to get it worked on. I’m gonna be real uncomfortable. It would be nice if you were there to help distract me.”
Asp grinned. “You got it, sister.”
Gregorio came back into the room with a small leather pouch. “There should be enough in there to get your armor fixed and commission a new hammeraxe.” He handed the pouch to Annabel, and the heavy clinking sounds inside revealed that they had a considerable budget.
“Thanks, Gregorio,” said Annabel, patting him on the shoulder and heading for the door. “See you later!” Asp followed to the front door. Annabel twisted the knob, and the door swung open in the morning light. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice tight.
-
“Yeah, I actually have nails by the tools,” said the Ronan'el blacksmith to his customer, a barrel-chested newtkin in suspenders.
“I’ll take a whole bucket,” the newtkin replied, reaching for his coinpurse.
As the bronze Ronan'el and newtkin finished their deal, Asp and Annabel waited. They’d stood here for twenty minutes as the smith had taken care of customers before them.
“A Ronan'el smith?” whispered Asp, incredulous. “Not a dwarf?”
Annabel smiled. “Yark does the best repair work in town. I had the original smith who made this armor fix it a while back, and it came back looking different.” Annabel glanced down at her armor like it had done something wrong. “See right here, where it doesn’t shine the same? And it sounds different, too.” She knocked on the armor there, making a clang clang clang noise. Then she moved her hand and knocked on a nearby part of the armor. Glank glank glank. “See?”
“Good luck with your project,” called the smith as the newtkin walked away, an armful of building supplies with him. “Next,” called the smith.
Annabel and Asp stepped up to his foundry. “Hi, Yark,” said Annabel, smiling.
“Annabel!” he cried. “So good to see you. How’s that armor holding up?”
“Oh, it’s pretty good, but it needs your magic,” she replied, beginning to unclasp and unfasten the armor, starting with her gauntlets and moving up her arms.
“I don’t do magic,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just good with a hammer. But probably not as good as you, by the looks of that thing,” he added, pointing to her hammeraxe.
“You’re too kind, Yark,” said Annabel, pulling off her greaves. “So, basically, I need reinforcements here, here, and here. I need this pauldron to be rebuilt around right here. These greaves need some work here and here. And are you still doing that post-tempering?”
Yark looked up from where Annabel had been pointing on the armor. His eyes were distant, and he smiled, wonder in his eyes. “I could do some post-tempering for you.”
“Uh, what’s post-tempering?” asked Asp.
Yark beamed. “Ordinarily, if you want to strengthen metal through tempering it, you do that before it takes its final form, when it’s still hot. Once it cools, it’s very hard to temper it. But it is possible if you know how,” he said excitedly.
“Wow,” said Asp, sensing that she should be impressed. “That’s great!”
“Thanks,” said Yark, bowing. “Yeah, I would say that I can get this back to you by tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent,” said Annabel, pulling off her cuirass. Her pose was tense, like she was under great weight without her armor on. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, dropping a stack of crowns into Yark’s hands. She sauntered off in front of Asp and headed into the city.
Asp followed, and at some point in the act of watching Annabel to know where to go, she started to notice that Annabel moved quite differently without armor. Without the weight of the armor, she strode in shorter, quicker steps. Without its weight pressing down, she seemed to jump up a bit with each step. And the armor had concealed Annabel’s figure, which Asp had not truly seen before. She noticed it, and she noticed as the people passing by noticed it too. As the faces in front of Annabel reacted to her appearance, Annabel began to slow, to walk even more with meekness, to slump in on herself. Asp sped up and walked alongside her.
“So off to the weaponsmith?” asked Asp.
“Yeah,” said Annabel, her voice hollow.
“Annabel,” said Asp in a motherly tone, “what’s wrong?”
Annabel turned to face Asp. “When I’m in my armor, people are afraid of me. They want to do what I want them to do.” She gestured down at her body, which even loose-fitting clothes could not fully conceal. “When I’m not, people look at me like this. They want me to do what they want.” She cut a sudden turn down an alleyway. “Even some women,” she said, laughing slightly. “They only see my body.”She paused before emerging from the alley into the next part of town. “Candace looks at me funny sometimes, ever since she saw me without armor.” She nodded as if to herself and walked back out into the sunshine and the marketplace. “That’s I guess part of why I wanted your company.”
“I’m sorry,” said Asp, her eyes glued to Annabel’s.
“Sorry?” said Annabel, still walking. She scanned the marketplace like a prey animal fearing a predator. “You’re not treating me any different.”
I’m thinking about you different, though. Asp patted Annabel’s hand. “Annabel, I’m sorry that people are monsters.”
Annabel raised her hammeraxe before her. “It’s a good thing I can deal with monsters,” she said, striking a heroic pose.
“That’s the spirit!” cried Asp.
Annabel led her up to a small building on the edge of the marketplace. Inside was an old dwarven man with a heavy leather apron on. He noticed Annabel and Asp and sidled over to speak with them.
“Morning,” he greeted them. “Anna Lee, right?”
“Annabel,” corrected Annabel, “good to see you again.”
“So sorry,” said the smith, cringing a bit at his mistake. “In my winter years, my memory is not what it used to be.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Asp dourly.
“It’s the cycle of life. And besides, everything I need to remember is in my bones anymore.” The smith sounded at once faraway and quite present, a tone that Asp had come to recognize in some of the elderly.
Annabel lifted her hammeraxe like a precious and delicate treasure. “Well, I’ve come because a weapon you made for me a few years ago has seen its better days. I was hoping you could rebuild it. Not a repair, mind you, but a replacement.”
“And it’s this thing I’m replacing?” the smith asked, pointing to Annabel’s hammeraxe.
“That’s right,” said Annabel, beaming at the hammeraxe.
“A nice young girl like you shouldn’t be swinging around things like this, you know,” he said, shaking his head.
Asp cringed. Right after she says she’s feeling vulnerable about it, he says that. Anger clouded Asp’s mind. “Oh, fuck you, buddy,” she said as she boiled over. “She’ll swing you around if you’re not careful.”
The smith and Annabel stared at Asp in shock.
“Oops,” said Asp, placing her thumb on the silver pendant around her neck. A snap, a yellow flash.
“A nice young girl like you shouldn’t be swinging around things like this, you know,” said the smith.
“Thank you for your generation’s wisdom. We’ll consider that,” gushed Asp. “But for now, would you be so kind as to help us with this?”
“Of course, of course,” said the smith, nodding and extending his hands to take Annabel’s hammeraxe.
“Asp!” whispered Annabel in surprise, then “Huh?” as the smith replied “Of course, of course.”
“Something wrong, miss?” asked the smith, still reaching to take her hammeraxe.
“Uhhh . . . no?” Annabel guessed. She handed over the hammeraxe, dazed. “And if you could, I want some extra structure right here, a thicker haft right here, and could you make the axe blade get just a bit wider right in here?” She pointed to locations on the hammer, the handle, and the curved blade.
“All quite possible. I take it you’re worried in particular about armored foes?” asked the smith, inspecting the weapon.
“Armored foes, sure,” said Annabel, stepping back from the counter. “That one got a little busted up knocking down a door.”
“That shouldn’t have been too much of an issue–” began the smith.
“It was a steel door,” added Asp.
“Yeah, well, that would do it,” said the smith, shaking his head with a smile on his face. “Give me until tomorrow afternoon. Can I keep this for reference?” he said, gesturing to the hammeraxe.
“Until you’re done, of course,” said Annabel, passing him a stack of crowns.
“See you tomorrow then,” he said, slipping the gold-pointed coins into a pocket of his apron. Without another word, he set to work, leaving Annabel and Asp to wander out of the shop, his movements around the forge natural and calm.
-
“It’s just so weird,” said Annabel, shivering despite the warm day. “I’m not even myself right now.” She looked down at her armorless body and her empty hands. “You could probably beat me up.”
Asp cackled. “I could, but I won’t, because I’m a benevolent overlord.”
“Oh praise be!” yelled Annabel, loud enough for people all around to hear. “All hail our fearless leader.”
The two laughed together for a moment, and then Annabel grew serious.
“Why did you say that to the smith?” she asked.
“Oh, you mean the ‘fuck you’ bit?” asked Asp. She knew what was coming, so she began with a joking tone.
“Yeah, why would you say that?” Annabel sounded at a loss.
“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” Asp kept a gentleness about her tone.
“He’s just old,” Annabel reasoned. “And he’s the best weaponsmith in town. I can’t risk losing him.”
“Well, you still have him,” quipped Asp.
“Yeah, what the hell was that?” demanded Annabel. “He just took it. I’ve seen him throw people out of his shop for much less.” She sighed. “Are you just that good?”
Asp considered. Can Annabel keep a secret? Could she keep it from Oslo if he really wanted to get it out of her? Ugh, I want to tell her, but it’s too risky.
“I’m that good and better,” Asp replied, her joking tone in full force.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re on our side,” said Annabel, a touch of disbelief in her tone. She shook herself and spoke again, a bit louder. “Any ideas for the name of the estate yet?” she asked as they rounded a corner down the side street to the manor house.
“Oslo’s Home for Criminal Lowlifes?” offered Asp.
Annabel guffawed. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘The Awesome House for Cool People Who Rule.’”
Asp responded with laughter of her own. “That’s very descriptive.” As they pulled open the side door and went in, she added, “There’s eight of us friends here–why not ‘The Eight Mate Estate’?”
Annabel laughed like she didn’t want to laugh. “That’s pretty bad, Asp.”
“Asp!” came Oslo’s voice from within the house. “Come here!”
“Oh boy,” whispered Asp to Annabel. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” said Annabel, patting Asp on the back.
Asp walked down the hall and into the living room. Oslo was there with Jehosaphat, who had a small book and a quill in front of him.
“You know what we need to talk about?” asked Oslo, on the line between sternness and condescension.
“You want to know what the pendant does,” said Asp. She smiled, then let her face fall.
“I do. Jehosaphat is here so we can collectively figure out how to use whatever it is to its fullest extent.” Oslo’s tone was businesslike, but also somehow accusatory. He pointed to the pendant. “So what do you know?”
Asp sat down in the chair across from Oslo and next to Jehosaphat. She looked down at her hands for a moment. “It’s hard to say exactly. I’ve only used it a few times,” she explained, “and the conditions were different each time, and–”
“No games, Asp,” pressed Oslo. “What does it do?”
“Look, Oslo, I admit that I have not been completely open with you in the past. But you keep telling me I need to be real with you, and I am. Accusing me of lying when I’m not might not make me lie again right away, but you can bet it doesn’t make me feel like you want me here. So either you can choose to believe me, or we can both find another arrangement. I joined a gang to improve my situation, not to be under constant suspicion from my so-called allies.” Asp finished her speech and looked back and forth between Oslo and Jehosaphat.
“I think she might be right,” said Jehosaphat, his face implying that it was a hard thing to accept.
“Fine,” Oslo said, biting at his upper lip. “You’re right. I gotta trust you.” He held out his hands as though he were manacled. “What can you tell us?”
Asp looked to Jehosaphat. Do I just tell him? Will it be easier if I just come clean? Is this a card I can afford to not have up my sleeve? Jehosaphat nodded to her. I trust Jehosaphat. She breathed in and faced Oslo.
“It makes it so I can replace one thing I’ve said,” she blurted as if this were totally self-explanatory.
“So you can what?” demanded Oslo, leaning in. Jehosaphat leaned in too, pushing his spectacles up his nose.
Asp swallowed hard and tried to smile. “If I’m talking to someone, and I say something I regret, and it’s still within a few seconds of saying it, I can touch the pendant. Snap, flash, the next thing I know, I’m hearing the last thing that they said, and I get a second chance to reply. They don’t remember me saying the first thing.”
“Sheeee-iiiit,” intoned Oslo, stretching the word out. “Any limitations?” he asked like a hungry wolf.
“It only works on one person–if other people are around, they hear the first thing I said–and I can only use it every so often, I think. It seems to need time between uses,” explained Asp. She was waiting for Oslo to tell her how to employ it.
“Fair enough, fair enough,” said Oslo, now lost in his thoughts. “There’s so many uses,” he added, wonder in his voice. Then, with some suspicion in his voice: “Who have you used it on?”
Asp froze. She tried to make it look like thinking about the question. “A few shopkeepers,” she said after a moment. And Candace, she thought painfully. And you.
“And you’re sure that they didn’t remember the first thing you said?” pressed Oslo.
“I literally told an elderly dwarf ‘fuck you’ to his face, and his response was, ‘of course, of course.’” Asp spoke with finality, trying to wrap up her part in the conversation.
“Hot damn!” cried Oslo. “New digs, a superpower–things are looking up for the Hollowstride Gang.”
Asp lowered herself off her chair. “I have a little errand to run, if that’s okay?”
Oslo didn’t respond. He was pacing the room. Jehosaphat grinned at her. “I think it’s okay. Have fun,” he said, and he winked so that Oslo couldn’t see. Asp returned his wink and headed out the front door and into the streets of Strey.
-
Asp walked through the city towards the woodworker’s. She entered the shop as she had yesterday and found it similarly empty. She rang the bell on the counter and waited. A few moments later, an old human man rounded the corner.
“Ah, Ms. Violet, was it?” he asked, brushing wood shavings off his shoulders. “With the sewing dummies?”
“That’s exactly right,” replied Delia. “Thank you, Mr. Harrow.”
“I made them to your specifications–all identical, all with the measurements we took yesterday, and with the head addition on top for accessories,” said Harrow. “The hidden compartment was, however, harder to conceal the way you requested, and I had to improvise. I’m sorry, but I have to add a small extra charge to compensate for the difficult work of getting a curved door to appear to be a solid part of the surface.”
“That’s perfect,” said Asp, smiling and glancing around. “Can I see?”
“Certainly,” said Harrow. He trotted into the other room and dragged in a small mannequin–slightkin sized, and with Asp’s proportions. He turned the mannequin and knocked a fist firmly against the rear end of the Asp-shaped form, and the wooden surface popped open as a door, revealing a compartment inside–the whole mannequin was hollow.
“Perfect indeed!” said Asp, stressing how pleased she was. “You said yesterday that you’d arrange to have a wagon here to help transport these?”
“Yes,” said the old man, looking around his workshop. “Your help will be here momentarily, I’m sure. I hired her yesterday. New to town, she said, looking for some work.”
“Sure, it’s a common story,” said Asp, admiring the dummies.
“Ah, here she is now,” said Harrow as the door swung open behind Asp.
“I hope I’m not late,” said a familiar dwarven voice.
Asp swung and faced the woman. “Wanda?” she asked, though she knew who it was.
“Delia?” responded Wanda. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She beamed. “I just got back into town.”
“You two know each other?” asked Harrow, surprised at the coincidence.
“Oh yeah,” said Wanda. “Delia’s one of my best friends.”
“I-I thought you were going to Hammergrad,” stammered Asp.
Wanda smiled. “I was on the road, and I thought, ‘Why not just start over in Strey? My friend Delia is doing it–why not me?’”
“Wow,” said Asp, and her voice sounder weaker than she wanted it to. “Just wow. Welcome back,” she managed to say.
“So you’ll take the dummies?” asked Harrow, uncertain.
“Yes, let’s go,” said Wanda, grabbing a dummy and heading for the door.
“Here you go,” said Asp, passing a stack of crowns and helms to the old man. “And thanks for the work.”
“Absolutely,” replied Harrow with a smile. “Good luck with your friend.”
“Thanks,” said Asp. Then, at a whisper, she added, “I might need it.”
-
“Delia, I can’t believe we found each other again!” said Wanda, gesturing with passion. “So do I finally get to see where you live?”
If only I had been dressed as Penelope, all of this could have been avoided.
“Not exactly,” said Asp. “I’m between places right now, but we’re going to have a friend store these for the time being.”
“Sounds good,” said Wanda, smiling. “So what have you been up to?”
Asp saw the estate coming up on their right side. There was, of course, no way that Wanda could know about the estate, so Asp would need to come up with a reason they couldn’t go inside her place in the time it would take to walk the next block.
“Oh, you know, looking for stories, learning about town,” Asp explained. “Trying to find some work so I can afford to stay here.”
“You’re not broke, are you?” asked Wanda. “I could help you out.”.
“Help me out how?” asked Asp.
“I mean, like, with money,” said Wanda, her discomfort obvious. “If you need it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” replied Asp. “Thanks.” She pointed down the side street. “Through here.”
“You got it,” said Wanda, pulling the wagon down the narrow path. Asp led her up to the door of a nearby building that was across from the side door to the estate. It was the only door not boarded up along the face of the building it was a part of.
“Right here,” Asp said, pointing to the doorway across from the estate. “Just unload them here, and I’ll get them moved in when I come back. Right now,” she said as Wanda placed the final dummy on the ground next to the door, “I owe you a meal for your work.”
Wanda wiped her forehead. “I can live with that,” she said with a smile.
“Lead the way to wherever you’d like to eat,” said Asp, positioning herself behind Wanda. As Wanda stepped towards the main street again, Asp stepped back and knocked several times on the side door to the estate, then ran back to join Wanda. She turned and watched as Candace opened the door and looked around. Turning her head, Candace saw Asp at the end of the side street; Asp pointed to the dummies. Candace nodded and picked up one of the dummies to bring it inside. Asp turned back to Wanda, who was looking up and down the street.
“Maybe you could introduce me to slightkin food,” said Wanda, and Asp tried not to laugh at the idea of never eating her childhood foods. “What is it you all eat?”
“Uh, we’re big on nuts and berries?” offered Asp, trying at once to focus and hatch a plan to ditch Wanda.
“You mean like a bird?” asked Wanda.
“I guess,” said Asp, feigning casualness. “We make some pretty good breads.”
“Now bread I can deal with,” said Wanda, her voice becoming serious. “Especially if there’s some gravy,” she added, and Asp swore Wanda’s stomach growled. Wanda reached down and seemed to be grabbing at Asp’s hand.
Asp brushed Wanda’s hand away and said, “Yeah,” the hairs on the back of her neck poking up. She looked side to side and saw nothing of note; she turned behind her and almost gasped. Candace was following at a distance of a few paces. “Umm,” Asp managed to say, “Hey, this place here looks good!” She pointed into a dreary slightkin restaurant on their left. “Can you go get us a table? I’ll be right in.”
“It looks kinda . . . bad?” said Wanda, and it clearly made her uncomfortable to judge the place..
“It’s just a hole in the wall,” said Asp, hoping she was right. If not, I can just say, “That’s slightkin cooking for you.”
“Whatever you say, friend,” said Wanda, shrugging as she stepped inside the restaurant.
“Who’s she?” demanded Candace almost as soon as Wanda had left.
Asp sighed. “Remember our dwarven friend who identified the curator as Dancer?”
Candace squinted at her. “I thought she left.”
Asp sighed again. “I thought so too. But she’s back. I’m working on it.”
Candace’s demeanor softened. “Well, work is work. I’ll stop bothering you.”
“You got the dummies inside?” asked Asp.
“All three are inside, and they’ll be in your room by the time you’re back,” said Candace, smiling with pride.
“You’re the best,” said Asp. She looked at Candace.
“Don’t forget it,” Candace said. She laughed, smiling at Asp for a moment. Then she placed a hand on Asp’s forearm. “Seriously,” she said, her tone solemn, “don’t forget it.”
Asp met Candace’s eyes. There was a heart-shaped fleck of gold in her right eye which seemed to soften the light green of her irises. Have I not noticed that before, or does it just feel like the first time every time I notice it?
“I won’t,” said Asp, and she knew that she wouldn’t.
You can read the next chapter here!
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