Chapter 12 Delays and Disappointments
Delays and Disappointments
Damien
I’m halfway through my second pint of ale and feeling the effects of the Rivertoad brew when Eloise returns, spine bowed under both saddlebags. I shadoweave over to her and alleviate her burden, tossing them under the table near Warbill’s feet.
“I’m relieved you’ve returned,” I tell her. “I wanted to go looking for you, but Warbill convinced me to give you time. That you might be conversing with someone.”
“Warbill was right,” Eloise whispers.
“As always,” Warbill chimes in in a throaty whisper.
I shoot him a sharp look.
Eloise sits down beside me at the table and slides her bowl of stew closer, picking up the spoon. “I did meet someone, although I now have more questions than answers.” She takes a bite of the dish and hums. “Goddess, this is good.”
I nod in agreement. For as much self-deprecating humor as Maggie used about the dish, it’s one of the best I’ve ever had. Warbill thought the same. “What did you learn?” I ask her.
“Well…” She tips her head to the side. “Rivertoads are shades, right?”
“Yes. Although I assume they’re different from us, like the mountain dwellers are different.
They’ve adapted to this life of constant travel,” I say.
Although in truth, I’m not sure exactly the differences.
In battle, they seem more hesitant to shift than other shades.
Sometimes, as in the case of Maggie, their dialogue seems less sophisticated.
Other times, I hardly notice a difference in speech.
The people under this tent seem taller, lankier than the people of Stygarde.
Eloise finishes another bite and rolls her lips. She squints at me as if truly baffled. “But do they have magic like witches?”
That raises my brows. “Not as far as I know. Why?”
She lowers her voice even further. “Because I met someone with magic, Damien. A type I’ve never encountered before, on Earth or Tenebris.”
“A Rivertoad?”
“Yes.”
We stop talking when Maggie arrives, wiping her hands on her apron.
When she reaches the table, she sets one long gold key with butterfly wings in front of Eloise and a second silver one, smaller and less ornate, in between Warbill and me.
“Seeing as how you’ve your bags under the table, I assume you’ll be stayin’ the night.
That’ll be ten quill for the two wagons. ”
“We prefer to stay together,” I say.
But Maggie makes a face. “Not done here, lad. Married wagons are only for folks who’ve said their vows and had the wheels blessed.”
“But we’re family,” Eloise protests.
Maggie snorts. “Over fifteen is what you are, and among the Rivertoads, unless you’re wed, women in one wagon and men in another.” I don’t argue. Eloise and I are supposed to be cousins and Warbill her brother. We can’t claim to be married now.
Maggie taps the gold key and looks toward Eloise. “This wagon is outfitted for a woman. It’s all yours for the night.” She points her chin at me and then Warbill. “You two can stay in that one. It’ll sleep two men comfortably. You’ll find your wagons along the east spoke.”
I dig in my coinbag and place ten quill on the table. Maggie sweeps it into her hand.
“The protection we inquired about…” I say quietly. “We’re still interested in hiring some…help.”
“Not tonight, Covellton,” she says, calling us by our fictional origins. “I’m afraid busy men live busy lives. They don’t keep a schedule these days. Stop in tomorrow night, and I may have more information for you.” She drifts off toward the kitchen wagon.
“I guess we’re spending the night,” Eloise says, plucking the butterfly key from the table.
Warbill finishes his third ale and releases a burp that turns heads. “Best idea I’ve heard all day. I don’t relish another night out in the open.” She clears the table, and Warbill and I shoulder the bags.
“There’s a gap every tenth wagon,” Eloise says, leading us down the spoke and finding the wagon whose number matches that which is on her key.
The exterior is a beautiful shade of violet, and through the small square window beside the door, I view an interior decor of ruby velvet, dark wood trim, and floral accents of pink and gold.
She slips the key into the door and opens it.
I move to follow her inside, rules be damned.
But she stops me with an extended hand. “No. We follow the rules.”
“Stupid rules,” I mutter, wanting desperately to be with her tonight.
Two nights ago, we couldn’t be together because we slept in the same cabin as Warbill and Ariadne and the children.
Then last night, we slept under the stars with Warbill not three feet from us.
It pains me to miss an opportunity to be alone with her.
“I don’t know why they follow this rule, or how serious it is to them, but we want to gain their trust. We’re living in their world, borrowing their things—”
“Paying for—”
“I want to respect their wishes,” she says firmly. “Goodnight, cousin.”
Resolved, I back away from the door. “Goodnight.”
“Sleep well,” Warbill chimes in, already walking down the row toward our wagon. I catch up to him in a foul mood, a growl rumbling in my chest. “She’s right, you know.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I know that if there were strangers in my village, I’d be watching. They wouldn’t see me, but I’d be there.”
My eyes drift to the darkened windows of the wagons, and I frown. Of course the Rivertoads are watching. We still haven’t done what we came to do. We can’t afford to offend our hosts before we’ve even had a chance to speak to them about hiring their men. I meet Warbill’s eyes and nod.
“Here we are,” he says. He opens the door to a wagon twice the size of Eloise’s, with a bed on each end and a small kitchen in the middle. Warbill closes the door behind us.
“Do you think our disguises will hold while she sleeps?” Warbill asks.
“I have no idea, but it’s worth taking precautions.” I close the drapes on all the windows.
“What do you think she meant about the Rivertoad she met having magic? You ever heard of anything like that?” Warbill asks.
I shake my head. “Never. Although, they’ve always been mysterious to me. Weird, even. Maybe it was a trick to test her.”
“Possible. But Eloise seems wiser than that.”
I frown. “She is. I’ll ask her for more details tomorrow when we’re alone.”
We get ready for bed and climb under the blankets.
“I’m not going to lie, Damien. This bed is the most comfortable one I’ve slept in in a long time. The food was decent and the music was merry. I’m tempted to join up with this crew and ditch your ass.”
I stare at the ceiling, warm and comfortable aside from the lack of Eloise at my side.
This wagon, although seemingly small on the outside, is surprisingly adequate.
But my mind lingers on Warbill’s words. “New Stygarde has given the Rivertoads their freedom because they’ve been useful to them.
But the second they have what they want, they will close their fist around this community the same way they closed it around Bolvet.
Brahm answers to Nevina, and Nevina answers to King Entrydal.
The goal is and always has been for the dark elves to rule everything. ”
“How do you know?”
“Entrydal told Eloise as much when she was his captive. The king wants us either dead or acting as servants to his people. Taking our children was only step one. The next is to exterminate any who don’t bow to his ultimate rule.”
“Evil,” Warbill says softly. “And it rings true to me.”
“Bolvet didn’t comply and it burned. Covellton complied and it burned too. This war isn’t about governance or laws or order. And one day, even those who fight for Nevina in her silver coat army will realize they are only pawns in a game where the elves plan to wipe them from the board.”
“You need to win this, my king.”
“I plan to, Warbill. Or I swear I will die trying.”
“Better dead than an elf’s slave.”
“I agree, old friend. I agree.”