Chapter 29 #2
She rushed back into her cottage. Braiden couldn’t believe his luck, beyond grateful for the generosity of his friends. He did mean it, though, about Elyssandra’s work. Even without seeing Bahul’s portrait, Braiden already knew that she had what it took to become a great artist.
He shook his hands at the wrists as he walked into the shop, trying to work off his excitement before they opened the store again for the afternoon.
He hadn’t even made it to the counter when a faint, familiar scent of smoke wafted from behind him.
He turned around and yelped in mild surprise, never thinking he’d ever be so pleased to see Valefour.
“You’re back!” Braiden cried. “The portal works both ways, then?”
Valefour grinned as he clasped Braiden’s shoulder. “That it does. We made some improvements from our end to stabilize and ensure it stays open, then applied the same upgrades on this side. We have a proper encampment past the blood jungle now and everything. You should come and visit some time.”
“Oh, absolutely. I just started work here again, but we’ll definitely drop by once we have the chance. It would be so nice if I could extend the same invitation to you and the others.”
Valefour gave him a resigned smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “The hellhounds had the run of things for too long. Chewed up the furniture and pissed hellfire on everything. I’m only happy we get to show Lucie what life is like back in our home hell.”
“Your daughter, I take it?” Craghammer said, toweling off his hair as he emerged from the downstairs lavatory. “Braiden and the others told me how dangerous it is for you and your family to come to the surface. I am quite sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Valefour said, which was when Braiden realized that these two would have much preferred punching each other out the last time they met. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? If only anything outside of our hell wasn’t so deadly to traverse.”
Craghammer slung his towel around his neck and nodded.
“Indeed. That’s so interesting, really. We met some gnomes over lunch who were thinking of exploring the deep ocean.
It looks like their equipment needs tweaking, but they have the right idea of it.
They just need to find the right kind of gear to survive an inhospitable environment. ”
The gnomes and their breathing helmet. Craghammer made an excellent point. Couldn’t Braiden design something similar? Ask Valefour to harvest fibers from the burning meadow and the blood jungle, then weave them into garments with moongrass? Wouldn’t that work as a lifeline for the demons?
Braiden’s jaw hung open as he stared dumbly at Craghammer. The orc looked back in bemusement.
“What? Was it something I said?”
Not three days later, Braiden had finished an entire complement of accessories for the demon contingent. An assortment of scarves, sashes, and socks, infernally-laced accessories the demons could always keep on their person on the surface.
For Lucie, he made a hair bow, plush and soft, in a deep red that complemented her fiery skin.
She liked it well enough, but within minutes of wearing it had tugged it down around her neck to wear as a bowtie instead.
It looked great either way, a bit of a fancy touch for their celebration at Beadle’s Needles.
Everyone was invited: Dudley from the Dragon’s Flagon, Izzy from the night market, Elder Bahul, Gregor the gravekeeper — truly anyone and everyone Braiden knew who wouldn’t think twice about rubbing elbows with burrowfolk, demons, and the undead.
Even Grandest Mother Magda had come to the surface with her own escort of burrowfolk, all bearing baskets of fresh flatbread to go with their steaming pots of rooty tooty stew.
Augustin, of course, was eagerly plying all their guests with effervescent elixirs in all their brilliant colors. But Braiden thought it was strange that he was the only Arcosa in attendance. He was sure he’d sent Elder Orora an invitation, but she was nowhere in sight.
Frankly, Braiden was shocked they could all fit in the shop together. The seven demon messengers had made an appearance, too, all stacked in a tower as they traded bawdy demon songs with Bones’s equally bawdy Hyberidian ones.
“No, no,” Bones said. “That part is spoken by the chorus, not sung.”
“Understood,” the chatterboxes said.
“Right. So that makes you the speakers.”
“Speakers. We like that. A lot less insulting than chatterboxes.”
Newt would have snapped back with something snippy, but he was too busy stuffing his face next to Craghammer. Ophidia slunk up next to Braiden, a slender moongrass scarf wrapped twice around her neck, her wings neatly tucked away, resembling a lovely, leathery cape.
“Twice over now, you’ve done a kindness for our people.”
Braiden cleared his throat. “We all did it together, of course. As for the knitwear, it’s really nothing. I love making stuff.”
“We won’t soon forget,” Ophidia said, smiling as she closed her hand over Braiden’s. “Any time you want a little vacation, if you feel like popping over for a visit? You’re welcome to visit our hell any time. The door’s always open. You might say you opened it yourself.”
“We’ll take you up on that offer,” Braiden said, meaning it. “But about that — what are your thoughts on letting adventurers through to the other side?”
The next thing Braiden knew, Ophidia and Valefour had cornered Elder Bahul, engaged in a vigorous discussion of the tourism and adventuring prospects of keeping the infernal portal open. Braiden had never seen Elder Bahul sweat, suddenly so excited over this profitable new project.
It was only when a piece of parchment slapped against the window that Braiden was shaken out of the merriment. It seemed that only he had noticed — well, he and Augustin, who went outside with him to check.
“A summons to the Lighthouse,” Augustin said with a grimace.
Ah. That was why Elder Orora wasn’t at the party.
“Terrible timing,” Braiden said, pursing his lips, “but I’d rather we get this over with sooner than later. The party will be here when we get back, anyway. I’m sure of it.”
Augustin agreed, and the two found themselves at the very top of the Lighthouse once more, warm Weathervale wind blowing in through the open-air council chamber. Orora Arcosa sat at the great table, a drink in hand.
“I do apologize for taking you away from the festivities,” Orora said, “but this won’t take very long.”
“We did invite you, Grandmother,” Augustin said. “Perhaps we could have had this conversation there instead.”
“It’s a small matter of business. I understand that you’ve successfully accompanied Elder Bahul down and back again.”
“That’s right,” Braiden said, “which, respectfully, of course means that all our debts and fees are absolved. Just as you promised.”
“Yes. Just as I promised.”
Orora waved her hand, as if sweeping all those invisible bills off the table. Nothing had actually happened yet, but Braiden still felt his muscles relaxing.
“And Elder Bahul tells me that this new deepest level of the dungeon has led to a discovery of demons. Is that correct?”
“It is,” Braiden said. “In fact, Elder Bahul is right now in discussion with the demon leaders to work out the details. Something about enticing adventurers with places beyond even the dungeon to discover.”
Elder Orora’s eyes glimmered as she envisioned a shower of gold coins. Braiden smirked. As if he didn’t already know that this was how all the elders operated.
“Before we go to my last order of business, I must ask you something that I’ve been wondering from the very beginning.
Where do things stand with the two of you, now that you’ve had a taste of both enterprise and adventure?
What do you choose, gentlemen? Business or battle? Commerce or the call of the open road?”
Braiden and Augustin glanced at each other, smiling at the same time, recognizing the light in each other’s eyes. Braiden answered for them both.
“Why not both?” he said, answering her question with a question.
“Excellent. That’s very good news. Now, on to this last thing I wanted to discuss.”
Elder Orora grinned as she steepled her fingers.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Augustin whispered in Braiden’s ear. “Er, Grandmother? We should be going. We’ll see you at Beadle’s Needles shortly. I believe there’s cake. You love cake.”
“You see, with all these new attractions in Weathervale,” Orora said, ignoring him, “the council foresees even more growth and potential in our sizable new population of adventurers. The encampment, the questing boards, the Noose — it would all work better tidied up. We need to organize all that.”
“Uh-oh,” Braiden muttered. “Augustin — I see what you mean.”
Orora leaned over the table, her shadow seeming to lengthen across the room.
“We need to open a guild of adventurers right here in Weathervale. A way to keep all the business of adventuring centralized — to be sustained, of course, by a nominal fee collected from all its members. And who better to lead such a prestigious and ambitious operation than two of Weathervale’s greatest heroes?
Imagine it, the two of you at the helm, side by side as guild masters of our town’s very first — ”
Augustin grabbed Braiden’s hand. “Run.”
“What?”
But run he did, sprinting side by side with Augustin toward the nearest window.
“Wait!” Orora cried. “You’ll be paid a salary! And you’ll earn in commissions!”
“Don’t listen to her,” Augustin said, his voice brittle with the panic of a man being threatened with unwanted responsibility. “Jump!”
And jump Braiden did, trusting Augustin with all his heart. His stomach dipped as they fell through the air, but Augustin’s spell took hold within seconds, buoying them up and away from the tower.
Orora’s voice echoed over the rooftops. “Augustin Cumulus Arcosa! You fly back here, right this instant.”
“Never,” Augustin shouted, laughing into the clouds.
Braiden snuck looks back at the tower between his own fits of nervous laughter, half expecting to find Orora flying after them in pursuit. She only stood at the edge of the tower, shaking her fist.
“Cumulus?” Braiden asked. “Really?”
Augustin scoffed. “Don’t be so cocky about that, Reginald. That’s right. I know. You’ve asked me for help with the shop ledger. I’ve seen all the documents.”
“I’ll keep your middle name a secret if you do the same for mine.”
Augustin kissed him softly on the lips. “It’s a deal. Where do we go now, weaver? The sky’s the limit. Quite literally, in fact. Il-venesse, Old Gwerena, the Summerlands — anywhere you wish.”
Braiden chuckled. “How about Beadle’s Needles? We still have a party to attend. And someone mentioned something about cake, too.”
“Ah, of course,” Augustin said, the smile clear in his voice. “Perhaps we’ll adventure some other time. For now: cake.”
Braiden and Augustin embraced tight, for safety, for warmth, for affection. The wizard and weaver flew all the way home.
END
Thank you for reading the Cozy Questing series!