Chapter 5
“My father?” Lira managed, her voice cracking. The idea of her elf father coming to Wayside to snatch a fussy ostrich and not to see her made her eyes water and her cheeks flame.
Erindil seemed to realize the impact of his words.
“I’m not saying it was him. Now that I think about it, why would he come all the way for an ostrich when he doesn’t even know I’m here?
Surely he wouldn’t still harbor a grudge against my having Glen.
Besides, I have no knowledge that he’s still wandering the Ageless Lands. ”
Lira wasn’t sure it was a stretch to suspect her father. Hadn’t he known she’d grown up in Wayside with her gran? Hadn’t he even visited when she was young? What if he’d been watching all along?
“But he knows I’m here,” Lira said.
“All the more reason the idea of him being a suspect is merely a flight of fancy on my part.” Erindil took her hand and patted it briskly. “He would hardly come here merely to snatch Glen and leave, would he? Ignore the ramblings of an old elf, my dear.”
Lira nodded, but his reassurances did nothing to comfort her. She didn’t know enough about her father to know what he would or wouldn’t do. It was only when the door opened behind them and loud voices filled the air that she summoned a weak smile.
Korl spotted her immediately and made his way through the crowd. “Nothing on the castle road,” he said, his expression grim. “The guards at the castle have seen nothing unusual, either.”
Cali appeared next, shaking snow from her fur. “No tracks to the west. Whatever direction Glen went, it wasn’t out into the wilds. Not that it was easy to search for tracks now that the snow has started up again.”
Lira’s stomach dropped. “It’s snowing?”
As if to give truth to Cali’s statement, Thrain and Rog bustled inside, stomping ice off their boots and rubbing their hands together to warm them.
“Forest was empty,” Thrain reported. “We searched as far as we dared in the dark and snow. Not a feather in sight.”
Vaskel and Iris were the last to return, both looking frustrated and wearing a fine coating of snowflakes. “Checked every shop, every alley, every space big enough to hide an ostrich,” Vaskel said. “Nothing.”
“I tracked him to the road leading away from Wayside,” Lira told her friends once Erindil had drifted toward the fire and settled into one of the armchairs.
“If he took the road south, he could be anywhere from Elmshire to Port Frey,” Vaskel muttered, all too familiar with the geography of the Known Lands.
“It would take him a while to reach Port Frey,” Rog said, running one hand down his short, blue beard.
Rosie walked up and bumped him on the hip. “That bird moves faster than our wagon.“ She put her hands on her hips. “Speaking of our wagon, someone got into it and knocked over a bunch of bottles.”
Lira remembered seeing a broken bottle at the rear of the painted wooden wagon. Was there a connection between the missing ostrich and the damage to Rosie’s brandy?
Thrain snorted and took a gulp of his steaming drink. “Probably some hooligans using the cover of the festival to steal some brandy.”
Rosie frowned. “Well, they made a right mess of things. There’s more damaged than missing.”
Suddenly, Erindil sat up ramrod straight in the overstuffed chair. “Did you say someone got into your brandy?”
“Aye, she did,” Sass answered for Rosie. “Why?”
Erindil stood and walked over to join the group. “I hate to admit this, but Glen has a fondness for a wee tipple, and he loves anything with apples. Loves it. I’ve had to keep him away from orchards, apple carts, even apple pies left cooling on windowsills.”
“So you’re saying,” Val said slowly, “that your battle ostrich smelled Rosie’s apple brandy, broke into her wagon, and drank himself into a stupor?”
The regal elf bobbled his head back and forth. “If he wasn’t led away, there’s a chance the aroma attracted him.”
Aroma was an understatement. One sniff of the gnome’s brandy would scorch the inside of your nostrils.
“I used triple the usual amount of apples in that batch,” Rosie whispered.
Lira nodded. “That would explain why the bottles were disturbed but not taken and why he pulled himself out of his harness.”
Her gran would have had something to say about being lured by the drink, in this case, literally.
Vaskel let out a low whistle. “That ostrich must have the constitution of a dwarf. Those bottles would have laid out a full-grown orc.”
“If it was the ostrich who got into my Rosie’s brandy, then where is he now?” Rog asked.
The group exchanged blank looks. Lira thought about her uncle’s suspicion of her father, but dismissed it. There was no evidence of it, and no one had reported spotting an unknown elf in the village.
“Wherever he is, I suspect he’s drunk,” Iris finally said.
The idea of a drunk ostrich wandering away from Wayside meant they would need to expand their search radius. It also meant that Lira didn’t need to worry about a malicious element in her village.
“Now that we suspect he’s got a belly full of brandy and we know where his trail left off, we should go back out and search again,” Korl suggested.
“Good idea,” Val agreed. “We can check the farms outside the village and walk the road south.”
“How far could an inebriated ostrich get, anyway?” Thrain asked with a deep chuckle.
Lira was about to ask her uncle if his ostrich had ever drunk too much before when the tavern door opened, letting in a blast of cold air along with two tiny figures bundled in winter cloaks.
Halflings. But not Pip and Fenni, the brothers who ran the bakery and cheese shops, respectively. Lira knew their faces as well as her own by now. These two were strangers, and Lira suspected they’d come for the festival.
“We’re not serving supper tonight,” Sass called to them. “But we can offer you some chai to warm your insides if you’re on your way home.”
The taller of the two halflings pushed back his hood to reveal a cheerful face with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. “Sorry to interrupt!”
“We’re looking for the gnomes who make the apple brandy,” the second halfling added, shaking snowflakes from her red curls. “We were told they might be here?”
The blue-bearded gnome puffed out his chest. “I’m Rog and this is Rosie.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” The first halfling beamed at him. “I’m Poppin Brambleheart, and this is my sister Toobi. We’re Pip and Fenni’s cousins from Elmshire.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Toobi added with a little bow.
Iris stepped forward, her expression curious. “You aren’t here to visit your cousins?”
“Actually, no.” Poppin exchanged a glance with his sister. “Though we’d love to catch up with Pip and Fenni later. No, we came because we suspect apple brandy is the reason there’s a giant bird in Elmshire.”
The entire tavern went quiet.
Erindil moved forward so quickly he nearly tripped over his own robes. “Glen? You’ve seen my ostrich Glen?”
“Seen him?” Toobi’s eyes twinkled with barely suppressed amusement. “Oh, we’ve done more than see him. He’s currently passed out on top of my mother’s halfling hole, snoring loud enough to wake the dead and smelling distinctly of apple brandy.”
The silence in the tavern stretched for three heartbeats.
Then everyone started talking at once.