Chapter 34
What followed was something remarkably like a family dinner involving a lot of estranged relatives.
Haber and his crew shuffled awkwardly indoors—a pair of narrow-faced sea-fey, the shortest orc Fern had ever seen in her life, and a gnome illusionist who couldn’t seem to find a color besides black to clothe herself in.
With everyone squeezed inside, the tavern went from cozy and convivial to close and crowded in a matter of seconds.
“So, you know each other?” asked Booth, confusion plain on his face as he gestured from the bard to the newcomers.
Haber frowned and seemed to be debating the merits of politeness versus accuracy. “We, um. Traveled together,” he hedged. “For a while.”
“Just chronicling their adventures,” said Staysha, brimming with enthusiasm Fern thought was false.
“That’s one way of putting it,” muttered the orc, who looked like he wanted to throttle her with the hands that he was keeping very carefully unclenched at his sides.
“You were s’posed to be here ages ago,” cried Finny, who couldn’t be bothered with all of the dithering politeness going on. She stumped over to Haber and glared up at him through her cracked spectacles. “The Oathmaiden’s gone and done your work for you. So, where’s our silver?”
The attention of everyone shifted to Astryx in her throne of blankets. She waved mildly in return.
A hushed conference ensued amongst Haber’s Five, with many glances thrown the elf’s way.
Eventually, Haber emerged once more as their spokesman.
He approached Astryx and bowed formally, which the white ferret around his neck was not amused by.
“Our thanks, lady. It’s to our shame that you had to face such a threat on your own.
You are clearly the equal of the tales that go before you.
” He shuffled his feet. “And on a personal note, I’ve admired you since before I was old enough to dress myself. ”
Astryx, unlike the ferret, appeared highly amused.
Turning back to Finny, Haber continued. “As for your silver, I wish I had better news. It was . . . misplaced.” Here he shot Staysha a dark look that she appeared to studiously ignore. “But we’ll do what we must to see you repaid.”
Then everyone stood around awkwardly and couldn’t figure out what to do with their hands. The rest of Haber’s group started to inch for the door with many nods of deference in Astryx’s direction and daggers stared in Staysha’s.
Zyll was suddenly at Fern’s elbow. “Very inter-lesting,” she mused aloud, with a remarkable amount of discretion. “The bard-a-larding is maybe, how do you say, little shit-faced.”
“I don’t think that’s how we say it,” replied Fern, out of the side of her mouth. “But I think I know what you mean. And I’m going to find out.”
“Hey, hang on a minute.”
Haber turned back to Fern with a quizzical expression. The rest of his crew were already halfway to their horses, which shied and stamped nervously at the smell of the slain verdigaunt sprawled half on the road at the verge of the lamplight.
Fern pulled the door closed firmly behind her and gestured for them both to move farther away. Inside, she could hear Finny stridently arguing with Booth.
When she was sure she was out of earshot, she kept her voice low and said, “I need to know about Staysha. You were too polite or unsure to say something in there, but the looks you gave her could have spoiled milk. My tail isn’t going to untwist until I know why.”
The man glanced back at the door, while his white ferret blinked at Fern. “You’re with One-Ear? And the Sparrow is traveling with you?”
“I guess so. For a little longer anyway.”
“Everything all right, Haber?” called the orc, who had stopped to peer at them through the gloom.
“Fine!” Then, to Fern, “You don’t know me, but I’m not the sort to speak ill. Tends to kick back and catch you in the face. And we can’t prove anything, but . . .”
“I’m not a Gatewarden,” said Fern impatiently. “You don’t have to hedge.”
“We didn’t ‘misplace’ the silver. It’s gone, though.
” He sighed. “Here’s the thing. Staysha rode along with us for a few weeks—gathering material, she said.
It’s not a bad idea for an outfit like ours to have a few tales told or songs sung about them, even if it can be a bit embarrassing. Well, usually not a bad idea.
“Seems the Silver Sparrow may have taken too much artistic license in our case and given folks the impression we did some things we definitely didn’t.
Jance Half-Hand wasn’t too happy to discover she was giving us credit for his work.
She vanished just as he came calling, and wouldn’t you know it,” he jerked a thumb back at the tavern, “the purse these folks sent as advance payment disappeared right about the same time. We’ve been struggling to navigate the whole mess, which cost us most of the silver we had left and a big slice of reputation. ”
“Shit-faced,” muttered Fern.
“Huh?”
The ferret hissed from his shoulder.
“Nothing. Thanks for telling me.”
“Even if it does mean we owe these folks, make sure the Oathmaiden knows we’re grateful, and she has our respect.” He nodded at the bulk of the verdigaunt. “Not many I know could tackle such a beast alone.”
“Yeah,” replied Fern. “She’s pretty incredible.”
“And, like I said. I can’t prove anything, but think about finding yourselves another travel partner.
” He looked thoughtful and scratched the back of his head.
“Speaking of—the greenskin in there. She with you, too? I seem to remember something about a goblin. Big bounty. Colorful coat, even, now that I think on it. Not sure whose stew they pissed in, but there were a lot of sovereigns put up to bring them in.”
Fern regarded him evenly. “Yeah, she’s traveling with us. I don’t know about a bounty, but if there were, I imagine Astryx would already be aware of it.”
He searched her face, then nodded. “Sure, sure. Anyway, travel safe. And maybe suggest to your friend that she wear a different coat for a while.”
Fern didn’t have an opportunity to talk to Astryx for hours.
After the departure of Haber and once Finny had finished venting her spleen with repeated angry exclamations of “three hundred silver!” things settled back into as festive a mood as could be conjured.
Staysha seemed unperturbed by the recent appearance and departure of her erstwhile traveling companions and played songs to match the tone of the gathering, from cheerfully festive to quietly languorous, as the night deepened.
The little stone-fey girl with the big eyes escaped the clutches of her parents to edge closer and closer to Astryx until she was on a stool beside the elf, awed worship obvious in every particle of her body.
Fern saw the Oathmaiden pat Nigel’s hilt affectionately, then murmur something to the child, whereupon she nearly vibrated apart.
Astryx laughed with less reservation than Fern could recall, and looked . . . comfortable, despite her wounds and abrasions. Not a storied legend, but the fascinating aunt who’d traveled from one end of the Territory to the other, and slyly implied that you might one day, too.
Fern herself was too nervy to appreciate the celebratory atmosphere, turning over the conversation with Haber in her mind.
When Staysha paused to wet her throat at one point, Fern sidled up to her. “So, you traveled with the ferret guy and his group for a while?” she said, without preamble.
“Hm?” Staysha looked at her over the top of her cup. “Oh, sure. Just for a few days. A fun bunch.”
“Yeah? And it went well?”
“I thought so. A few songs hatched, and it never hurts a crew like that to have someone like me out there telling their tale. Why?”
The bard was doing an impressive job of affecting innocent curiosity.
Fern shrugged. “I talked to him a bit, and I got the impression they didn’t come away from it with the same feelings, is all.”
Staysha laughed. “Well, they’ve been riding for days only to find out they’re too late, and that means they don’t get paid. That’s bound to salt their slugs. Some people are always looking for some other peg to hang their misfortune on.”
“I guess so,” replied Fern. She thought about bringing up Jance Half-Hand, and the missing silver, but Staysha’s unblinking smile told her it wasn’t likely to provoke a tearful admission. Instead, she nodded to the bard and found her way to a seat near Zyll, who was already dozing in a corner.
“That girl smiles way too much,” murmured Breadlee from her cloak pocket.
“Yes, she does,” replied Fern, sipping at her wine and staring darkly at the dwarf.
Eventually, the fire died down and the party did as well. Astryx’s tiny admirer was shepherded away by her guardians, the three gnome sisters fell asleep in their cups at the table, and Booth escorted Finny to her cottage.
When he returned, he immediately offered his own bed upstairs for their use, but Astryx declined, whereupon he brought down every cloak he owned, a few more blankets, and what Fern was positive were the quilt and pillows from his own bed, to assemble makeshift sleeping arrangements.
He gingerly dropped a quilt over the snoring Zyll, then woke the gnome sisters and sent them packing.
Staysha left to sleep in her wagon, much to Fern’s relief.
When they were alone, and Astryx was giving Nigel a quick polish at the table before resheathing him, Fern pulled up a chair across from her.
She cursed the bard for putting her in this position.
The Oathmaiden looked up from her labor with a gentle smile. Despite a shoulder wound that would have had Fern writhing in pain, she looked relaxed.
“Look, I think we need to leave Staysha behind.”
“Oh?” Astryx stopped polishing.
Fern relayed all that she had discovered from Haber, and her subsequent unsatisfying conversation with Staysha.
“It does sound like hearsay,” observed Nigel.
“You’re just happy someone is writing songs about her!” cried Fern.
“As well they should be!” he retorted.
Astryx laid a hand on his blade to forestall a further outburst. “Songs or no songs, she does make travel swifter. Do you think we’re in much danger of being robbed by her?”
Fern realized the question wasn’t rhetorical, and there was no sarcasm in her voice. Astryx was asking her honest opinion.
She squirmed. “Well . . . no. I guess I have a hard time imagining that.”
“Are you worried she’ll cause us some sort of musical trouble?”
Fern felt color rise under the fur of her cheeks. “I mean. Um.”
“We should be able to part ways as soon as I can secure another wagon. There’s little to be had here, and these poor people can’t part with much of anything, anyway, even for silver. Do you think we can manage her company for a while longer?”
Again, Fern marveled that it was clear Astryx actually wanted to hear her answer.
Fern sighed. “I guess we can.”
Still, she didn’t like it.