Chapter Twelve The Village That Chooses Its Own #3
“You have a point,” Saeldian said. “But I found—I found my way into another domain when I needed to. Couldn’t he have done that too?”
“Whose?”
Saeldian’s tongue wouldn’t move. Lorzok spoke into the silence. “Saeldian’s patron is an archfey.”
“Well, that’s why,” Verandil said. “Direct connection to the archfey of the realm got you there without knowing the way. I’m not the archfey. Dad isn’t either. Kell never even met the Brewmistress before today.”
Lorzok cleared his throat. “And you know what stopped him from looking.”
Saeldian nodded. “He was scared you were all dead. I…was mean to him about being afraid to look. Which was horrible of me. But I figured out that he needed to believe that you were there to find.”
Verandil looked at Saeldian like two pieces that didn’t match suddenly fit together. “I wouldn’t usually go to get the gruit until tomorrow,” Verandil said. “But I woke up with an itch to go today.”
“It was probably him that you sensed.”
“But it was you who pushed him to find me. Maybe you were an ass to my brother, but you know him well. Maybe even better than I do. How do you know each other?”
“I turned him into a criminal,” Saeldian said, “and then I abandoned him.”
Verandil scowled. “You’re doing your best, but I don’t push away that easy.”
“I haven’t given it my best yet. Is that the cookhouse?”
And then Quickwit was there, hovering like a dragonfly. “Come and eat! Have a seat! I will bring an extra treat!”
Saeldian groaned. “Quickwit, can you talk without rhyming? I would consider it a favor.”
“Done! That’s one! No more rhyming,” Quickwit agreed. “Tell me what you want tell me your order tell me I’ll go tell them how do you want your eggs how?”
Saeldian regarded the tiny pixie hovering between them and Lorzok. “Fried, whites cooked, yolks runny. Are there mushrooms?”
“Runny yellow eyes on fire noodles with button tops!” The last words faded as the pixie zipped off.
“He’s helpful.”
Verandil chuckled. “Quickwit has to serve people a thousand favors before the Brewmaster will release him from his punishment.”
“What did Quickwit do?”
“Quickwit, ah…”
Lorzok guessed first. “Stole something from a guest here?”
“Deceived them into giving it away.”
“Ah,” Saeldian said. “Well, that was foolish.”
The fragrance of spices wafted from the cookhouse as Lorzok pulled the door open. Inside, Kell’s voice rose in a silly cackle: “Runny yellow eyes it is. I’ll boil you in oil, you!”
Saeldian stopped walking, but Verandil herded them inside. One half of the cookhouse held a long table with benches, and another frog-person slurped noodles from a wide wooden bowl.
An egg landing in hot oil crackled. Kell held his arms up as he moved sideways to check a small clay pot and then moved back—no, danced back to the stove.
“Shuahn,” Verandil said to the frog-person. “I’m glad I found you. This is Lorzok and Saeldian.”
“You’re Shuahn,” Saeldian said.
“I am,” Shuahn said. Her voice quivered. “I am already known to you?”
“Kell told me about you when he was a child.”
Kell looked over his shoulder, and when he caught sight of Saeldian, he dropped his spatula.
He hit it as he fumbled to catch it. The edge landed on the egg crackling on the hot top, and golden yolk spread over the whites. “Oops.”
Kell could juggle three balls with his off hand. He could juggle two with his right and keep up a three-ball two-handed weave. He wouldn’t have fumbled a spatula twenty years ago, much less today.
Saeldian smiled so sweetly, a weaker person would have died of it. “You haven’t changed a bit, Kell. You’d trip over a gust of wind if you weren’t careful. I have no idea how you play a fiddle.”
Kell didn’t quite stamp his feet as he grabbed tongs and slopped broad, flat noodles into a wide bowl—from the pot, not gently tossed on the flat iron grill to crisp and sizzle. A tumble of greens landed on top. The ruined egg followed.
Kell shrugged. “We’re out of mushrooms.”
The heated bowl to hold them was sitting on the back of the stove. Kell turned his back and started cleaning, the conversation ended.
It’s only until the job is done. Then Saeldian would go back to Waterdeep, pack, and go. They’d leave the Righthoofs enough to help with fixing the manor. And an explanation. Not all of it, but enough.
Kell was going to treat Saeldian like this the whole time. He’d never forgive them. Kell would need an explanation first, if he would even hear it at all, and Saeldian couldn’t explain.
Saeldian could put up with it. The job wouldn’t take long. Verandil had found a guide. They’d go to the domain and replace the gem, and this would be over.
Lorzok sighed. “Kell…”
“Lorzok. Don’t.”
“It’s all right.” Saeldian took the bowl and turned to look for a place to eat.
But the frog-person Verandil called Shuahn stood up, quivering with indignation. “These two, Verandil? You want me to guide them?”
Verandil’s shrug would have charmed almost anyone. “It would be a particular favor.”
“No. Give up on going to Hearthaven’s Repose,” Shuahn said. “You’ll get lost in the Feywild forever first. The way won’t open for you.”
Saeldian wanted to disappear but held the impulse to cast the spell in check. They bowed to the bullywug and murmured, “May I ask why the path won’t open for us?”
“Hate isn’t welcome there. You’ll never make it.”
“I don’t hate Kell.”
“He hates you.”
“I don’t—”
Shuahn’s armful of bangles bounced as she pointed at Kell. “If what I just witnessed was how you treat your friends, I don’t think I’d want to try being your friend these days. But I’ve seen enough. You’ll never make it to the domain, no matter how hard you try.”
“Fine,” Kell said. “Then let them do it alone. I’ll stay here.”
Kell’s face went slack. He winced with pain and swayed—
“Kell!” Lorzok dashed to Kell’s side and grabbed him before he fell against the hot stove. Saeldian dropped the bowl of solid eggs and plain noodles on the table and vaulted over the counter to grab Kell’s face.
“Kell. This is the vowstone. Kell!”
He tried to struggle out of their grip, but Saeldian forced him to look at them. “Listen to me. We’re finishing the job. We’d never dream of not finishing it. We’re going to find a way past this and do the job.”
“Nuu—”
“Shut up. You’re oathbound. This is what happens when you try to break it.”
A cursebreaker could—no. Saeldian wiped that thought away and turned back to Kell. “Now, save your own life and change your mind. We’re going to figure out how to do this no matter what. Say it.”
“Gonna figure this out.” Kell shut his eyes and winced. “Nnngh.”
“Promise.”
“We’re going to return the Kiss,” Kell said, more clearly but still squinting from the pain. “Together.”
That last word was clear. He was safe.
Saeldian let him go and stepped back. “Good. Don’t do that again. Don’t even think it. You’ll want a quiet, dark room and time to rest.”
He touched his head as if he expected it to be tender. “How did you know what was happening?”
“I already went through this.”
“When?”
“When I nearly fainted on the road after we left the Golden Rose.”
Kell’s smile was unkind. “That soon after? Figures.”
“Bound? Hurt? Let me help you!” Quickwit buzzed around Kell’s head. “Just say yes and you’ll be through!”
“Yes,” Kell said, and winced.
Quickwit darted forward and planted a loud, squeaky kiss on Kell’s head. “All better!”
Kell blinked. He looked around like he couldn’t quite believe it. “The pain’s gone. Like it never happened.”