expression. “Oh, nothing. Happy to be in one piece, is all.”
Arwin raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“Suppose we should be getting back?” Niel asked.
The swordsman visibly considered pursuing the matter, then just as visibly decided against it. “In a moment.”
Arwin slid the bit from the horse’s mouth and gave another pat as the animal lowered its head to the water trough. “First, let’s see if Hallen hurt himself,” he said as he started for the barn. “And if not, let’s see what we can do about that.”
***
They arrived back at the room to find Peck cross-legged on the floor, a small pack made of black cloth splayed open in front of him revealing a bewildering assortment of vials, knives, and delicate-looking metal tools Niel did not recognize.
“Greetings, Lord Elder,” Peck said with a wink.
Niel smiled as politely as he could at being addressed so inappropriately. He presumed Peck meant it as playful, though likely offering a subtle snipe at the same time.
“Afternoon, Good Reverend,” he replied.
Peck rewarded him with a genuine laugh as he returned to his work. Even Caleen chuckled.
Arwin tossed his sheathed sword onto the closest of the beds. “How’s the axe, Jhar?”
“Merahves has it,” he replied. “Said she could fix it in three or four days.”
“You no doubt convinced her of your need for expediency.”
Jharal smiled, the same smile he wore while dragging Niel from the Inn to do who-knows-what to him. “She’ll have it ready first thing tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” Arwin turned to Peck. “And how were the donations this time around, Reverend?”
Without looking up, Peck pulled from his pack a fist-sized pouch—much larger than Niel would have thought the pack able to contain—and tossed it unerringly into Arwin’s hand. The pouch landed with a jangle of coins.
“The faithful were generous,” Peck said.
“Plus a nice-sized stone,” Caleen added, rolling between her thumb and forefinger a brilliant green gem larger than her eye. It reminded Niel of the colored rock candy Biddleby used to make.
“Where did you manage to find that?” Niel asked.
The question brought the others in the room to a sudden, awkward quiet, until Peck fluttered a hand toward the balcony. “Out there, of course. Just lying all over the place.”
Niel frowned. “Of course,” he said.
“Any reason we should leave town sooner than planned?” Arwin asked.
Peck looked up innocently. “Are we going somewhere?”
The jest made Arwin smile. “Well,” he said, “it so happens I was toying with the idea of a jaunt to the Gus after supper.”
Peck ticked a concurring finger at no one in particular. “Now that’s an idea worth being toyed with.”
Caleen flicked the gem back to Peck, who again pinched it easily from the air without looking. “Why in the world do you insist on going to that hole in-the-wall?” she asked.
“Been awhile,” Arwin said. “Plus, I think we could use a night out.”
“I’ll pass,” Jharal said from the back of the room.
“Don’t blame you,” Peck replied, “frightening as your lady friend is.”
Jharal’s growl was a distant but advancing storm.
“Then it’s settled,” Arwin announced with a clap of his hands. “Tonight, one last hurrah at the Gus before flinging ourselves headlong toward peril and prize.”
Niel tried to seem amenable. But an evening of drink with a band of thieves just didn’t sound like all that much fun.
12
The feather scratched unassisted across the coarse parchment, wagging and twirling, nimbly recreating the considerable volume of Thaucian’s handwritten notes. Ennalen’s eyes followed the nib, seizing up each word as it formed, pausing only long enough to provide the quill a fresh sheet when it stopped at the end of a page.
For more than a week she had pored over the Lord Elder’s research, and while she detested being cramped up again
Arwin raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“Suppose we should be getting back?” Niel asked.
The swordsman visibly considered pursuing the matter, then just as visibly decided against it. “In a moment.”
Arwin slid the bit from the horse’s mouth and gave another pat as the animal lowered its head to the water trough. “First, let’s see if Hallen hurt himself,” he said as he started for the barn. “And if not, let’s see what we can do about that.”
***
They arrived back at the room to find Peck cross-legged on the floor, a small pack made of black cloth splayed open in front of him revealing a bewildering assortment of vials, knives, and delicate-looking metal tools Niel did not recognize.
“Greetings, Lord Elder,” Peck said with a wink.
Niel smiled as politely as he could at being addressed so inappropriately. He presumed Peck meant it as playful, though likely offering a subtle snipe at the same time.
“Afternoon, Good Reverend,” he replied.
Peck rewarded him with a genuine laugh as he returned to his work. Even Caleen chuckled.
Arwin tossed his sheathed sword onto the closest of the beds. “How’s the axe, Jhar?”
“Merahves has it,” he replied. “Said she could fix it in three or four days.”
“You no doubt convinced her of your need for expediency.”
Jharal smiled, the same smile he wore while dragging Niel from the Inn to do who-knows-what to him. “She’ll have it ready first thing tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” Arwin turned to Peck. “And how were the donations this time around, Reverend?”
Without looking up, Peck pulled from his pack a fist-sized pouch—much larger than Niel would have thought the pack able to contain—and tossed it unerringly into Arwin’s hand. The pouch landed with a jangle of coins.
“The faithful were generous,” Peck said.
“Plus a nice-sized stone,” Caleen added, rolling between her thumb and forefinger a brilliant green gem larger than her eye. It reminded Niel of the colored rock candy Biddleby used to make.
“Where did you manage to find that?” Niel asked.
The question brought the others in the room to a sudden, awkward quiet, until Peck fluttered a hand toward the balcony. “Out there, of course. Just lying all over the place.”
Niel frowned. “Of course,” he said.
“Any reason we should leave town sooner than planned?” Arwin asked.
Peck looked up innocently. “Are we going somewhere?”
The jest made Arwin smile. “Well,” he said, “it so happens I was toying with the idea of a jaunt to the Gus after supper.”
Peck ticked a concurring finger at no one in particular. “Now that’s an idea worth being toyed with.”
Caleen flicked the gem back to Peck, who again pinched it easily from the air without looking. “Why in the world do you insist on going to that hole in-the-wall?” she asked.
“Been awhile,” Arwin said. “Plus, I think we could use a night out.”
“I’ll pass,” Jharal said from the back of the room.
“Don’t blame you,” Peck replied, “frightening as your lady friend is.”
Jharal’s growl was a distant but advancing storm.
“Then it’s settled,” Arwin announced with a clap of his hands. “Tonight, one last hurrah at the Gus before flinging ourselves headlong toward peril and prize.”
Niel tried to seem amenable. But an evening of drink with a band of thieves just didn’t sound like all that much fun.
12
The feather scratched unassisted across the coarse parchment, wagging and twirling, nimbly recreating the considerable volume of Thaucian’s handwritten notes. Ennalen’s eyes followed the nib, seizing up each word as it formed, pausing only long enough to provide the quill a fresh sheet when it stopped at the end of a page.
For more than a week she had pored over the Lord Elder’s research, and while she detested being cramped up again
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