Chapter 2
The morning had passed in a flurry of flour and butter and the steady rhythm of baking.
Lira had lost count of how many trays she’d pulled from the oven, but the kitchen table was now covered with cooling racks laden with spiced shortbread dusted in powdered sugar, ginger cookies shaped like suns and moons, and mounds of sugared nuts.
Lira wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “I need a break and some air.”
Korl straightened from where he’d been checking the stove temperature. “I should go help Val with the garlands anyway. Tinpin said he’d need our height.”
Lira smiled at him, warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. “I’ll walk out with you.” She pivoted to the flutterstoat perched on the windowsill. “Can you keep an eye on the kitchen for a bit, Crump?”
Crumpet chittered his agreement, whiskers twitching as he nibbled a nut held in both paws.
Lira laughed as she took off her apron and hung it on a hook by the doorway, hoping the creature wouldn’t eat too many nuts before they had the chance to serve them.
Korl held open the swinging doors for her, and they walked into the tavern’s great room, which now boasted a crackling fire and Sass bustling around polishing tabletops.
Swags of greenery adorned the hearth’s mantle, adding a scent of fir to the air, and wreaths of holly curled around the hurricane candles on the tables.
“We’re going to pop in to the village to see how the festival preparations are going,” Lira called to the dwarf. “And Korl agreed to help stream garlands with Val.”
Sass tried not to visibly perk up at this information, shrugging and flapping a hand at them. “Go on with you, then.”
Lira and Korl exchanged an amused glance as they left the tavern and stepped out into the winter afternoon. She drew in a deep breath of cold air, which was a welcome change after the heat of the kitchen.
But after they’d walked to the end of the lane, Lira had to pause to take it all in. If the village had been lovely in the pre-dawn darkness, it was absolutely magical now.
Silver and gold streamers stretched between buildings like metallic ribbons, catching the diffused sunlight and sending sparkles dancing across the snow-dusted street.
Star-shaped lanterns hung from every available hook and nail, and luminaries lined the dirt road, the chandler’s handiwork clear in each paper bag’s sun cutouts.
Tinpin and his decorating committee, which was truly just the gnome haberdasher, had truly outdone himself.
“Sweet simmering cauldrons,” Lira breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
Korl grunted in agreement, but Val had already caught his attention by waving at him from across the road. The guardswoman stood beside Tinpin, who appeared to be gesticulating wildly while pointing at a gap between two buildings.
“We need the garlands to swoop! To swoop!” Tin’s voice carried across the square, his pointed cap flopping back and forth as he gestured. “Not droop, swoop! There’s a difference, a very important difference!”
Val caught sight of them and rolled her eyes good-naturedly before calling out, “Korl! Maybe you can explain to Tin that garlands are heavy and we can only make them swoop so much before they fall!”
Korl’s lips quirked, and he squeezed Lira’s hand briefly before heading toward the garland crisis, his long strides eating up the snow-dusted dirt road.
Lira turned her attention to the stone bridge, where she spotted Klaff and Vorto hard at work.
The two orcs had their massive heads bent together, and as she watched, Vorto lifted a metal crescent moon, holding it up to catch the light.
The metalwork was exquisite, and the crescent’s surface hammered smooth until it gleamed.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Klaff rumbled, noticing her approach. The blacksmith held up a star, equally impressive in its craftsmanship. “We’ve been working on these for weeks. Wanted to surprise everyone.”
“They’re perfect,” Lira said honestly. “Absolutely perfect.”
Vorto grunted his thanks, but his dark eyes shone with pleasure as he began securing the crescent to the bridge’s walls with a length of silver wire. The metal ornament spun slowly in the breeze, skipping shadows across the icy stream below.
Lira continued her walk through the village, taking in all the changes.
Ropes of green garland decked the market square, though she noticed something different from the Harvest Festival.
Instead of the usual stalls and tables set up outside storefronts, many of the vendors had retreated into their shops, warmth and shelter winning out.
Lanterns glowed in every window, and she could see people moving about inside, rearranging their wares and preparing for the evening’s festivities.
Her stomach gave an uncomfortable flip. As long as the snow held off. No one would want to trudge from shop to shop through snowdrifts.
She tipped her head to the gray sky. “Don’t be silly. It’s not even snowing.”
When she looked back down, the apothecary’s window caught her eye.
The shop was usually dark and dusty, but now it glowed with warm light.
Iris was probably in there right now, perhaps with Cali keeping her company.
And where Cali went, Vaskel often followed, though the Hellkin would deny being so predictable.
The thought of her old crew settling so comfortably into Wayside made warmth stir in Lira’s chest and banish the worry. This was what she’d wanted when she’d returned to the village after so long. A sense of community, of belonging, of home.
She retraced her steps down the main road, passing the baker’s shop where Pip had his window completely obscured by stacked trays of what looked like sugar-glazed buns, each one topped with a star made from white icing.
The halfling caught sight of her and waved enthusiastically, nearly upsetting his display in his excitement.
“Hi, Pip!” Lira waved back, laughing, and continued back toward the tavern where Erindil’s elaborate campsite sprawled between the building and the stream.
The elf’s tents billowed gently in the breeze, their silk sides painted iridescent pastel colors.
Colorful pennants snapped atop golden poles, and the entire camp had an air of permanent festivity that seemed entirely appropriate for the solstice.
As she approached, Lira heard Glen before she saw him.
The battle ostrich was making a peculiar warbling sound, somewhere between a trill and a shriek, that seemed oddly musical.
She rounded one of the larger tents to find the bird strutting back and forth with his chest puffed out, his lavender plumage pronounced.
“Isn’t he magnificent?” Erindil’s voice came from behind her, and Lira turned to find her uncle emerging from his tent dressed in what could only be described as finery.
His robe was deep purple velvet trimmed with white fur that might have been ermine, and more rings than usual adorned his long fingers, each one catching the light as he moved.
“The cold weather agrees with him tremendously. He’s been strutting all morning. ”
“He’s certainly enthusiastic,” Lira said, as Glen executed what might have been a dance move, his powerful legs kicking out to the sides. “I suppose the excitement of the festival is catching.”
She hoped it was that and not the animal’s reaction to a coming snowstorm.
Erindil clasped his hands together, his face bright. “The Solstice Festival! Of course, the celebration on Lananore is spectacular, but to experience it here, in this charming village, with my dear niece...” He pressed one bejeweled hand to his heart. “I am quite overcome.”
Before Lira could respond, Glen shrieked again and went racing past them, his long neck extended and his lavender feathers billowing.
“He’s very excited about something,” Lira observed.
“Glen is always excited about something.” Erindil watched the ostrich circle the camp with an expression of fond exasperation. “Usually food, especially fruit. Or shiny objects. Sometimes both.”
As if summoned by talk of fruit, footsteps crunched through the snow behind them. Lira turned to see Rosie approaching from where she and Rog had set up their wagon next to Erindil’s camp. The gnome couple’s wagon door stood open, and the tart aroma of fermenting apples hung in the cold air.
“Afternoon!” Rosie called out cheerfully, a blonde braid coiled around the crown of her head. She held a bottle in one hand, the liquid inside amber-colored and the aroma wafting from it suspiciously potent. “Think we might get more snow?”
“Nothing significant, I hope,” Lira said, though her eyes had watered just from the proximity to whatever Rosie was carrying. “Is that for tonight?”
“Extra special apple brandy.” Rosie held the bottle up to the light. “It fermented just in time for the solstice. Used honey from Elmshire and apples from the ancient orchard near Frostmoor. Been aging it for months.” She waggled the bottle slightly. “Want a sniff?”
“I can smell it from here.” Lira took an instinctive step backward. Her eyes were definitely watering now, and she wasn’t even close to the open bottle.
Erindil had produced an embroidered handkerchief from somewhere within his voluminous robes and was delicately dabbing at his nose. “Quite robust.”
Glen, however, seemed fascinated. The battle ostrich had stopped his strutting and was now approaching the bottle with his head cocked to one side, his beak opening and closing as he sampled the fumes.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Rosie wagged a stubby finger at the bird in a good-natured warning. “This isn’t for ostriches, battle or otherwise. You’ll be dancing on the rooftops if you get into this.”
Glen made a disappointed warbling sound but backed away, though he kept his beady eyes fixed on the bottle.
“Where’s Rog?” Lira asked, trying not to breathe too deeply. The brandy’s potency was both impressive and slightly alarming.
“He and that dwarf friend of Sass’s are helping gather wood for the bonfire.” Rosie gestured vaguely toward the forest beyond the village.
Lira grinned at this. “Thrain?”
Sass’s best friend from the Ice Lands had arrived with full intention to return home, but he’d found it hard to leave the friends he’d made.
Rosie snapped her fingers. “That’s the one.
Nice fellow. Holds his liquor well, which is always a good quality in my book.
” Rosie re-corked the bottle, and Lira felt her eyes immediately stop watering.
“I suspect they’ll be hauling timber for a while.
That fussy haberdasher insists on having the biggest bonfire the village has yet seen. ”
Glen chose that moment to shriek again. He’d spotted something shiny in the distance—one of Klaff and Vorto’s metal stars, by the look of it—and was stalking toward it with intense focus.
“No, Glen!” Erindil called out as he hurried after the ostrich. “You ridiculous bird! You can’t chase everything that sparkles!”
“Best be getting back to my wagon.” Rosie chuckled as she tucked the bottle of brandy under one arm. “Got a few more batches to prepare before tonight. This solstice is going to be one for the memory books.”
As Lira thought about the villagers after a few sips of Rosie’s special apple brandy, she suspected that was an understatement.