by Martha Carr
Finally, when the wobbly table was sufficiently loaded with more food than they could possibly eat in one sitting, all three trolls moved quickly toward the other chairs around the table and slipped into them. Silence fell over the dining room. R’mahr and Yadje beamed at Cheyenne with pride. Bryl glanced at her parents and their guest, biting her purple lower lip to keep from laughing.
“Now.” Yadje took a deep breath and pulled herself up straighter in the chair. “Our phér móre first—”
“Cheyenne. Really.”
“Take whatever you like, and we’ll begin.” The troll woman gestured toward the overloaded table.
“Uh…” The halfling gazed at all the steaming dishes and lifted her shoulder in a hesitant shrug. “Was I supposed to bring the plates and silverware?”
R’mahr and Yadje burst out laughing, and Cheyenne couldn’t tell if it was forced amusement or if they genuinely thought she was making a joke. Apparently, my ignorance is showing.
A small, warm finger tapped her forearm on the table, and Bryl mimed scooping up the food. “With your hands.”
“Oh.” The halfling eyed the bowl of cooked vegetables and reached across the table to pull a carrot out of the pile. She stuck it in her mouth and almost choked on the heavy spices, but she managed to nod through her chewing as R’mahr and Yadje watched her like their lives depended on it. “Yeah, that’s good.”
Yadje smacked her husband’s arm with the back of her hand. “I told you she’d like it. You worry too much about everything and nothing.”
Laughing, R’mahr bobbed his head, picked up one of the pita-bread-looking things, then passed the plate of them toward his wife. Then all the hands were dipping into all the bowls, and Cheyenne tried not to frown. They think I know how this works.
“Look.” Bryl picked up a piece of bread and used it like a glove made of food. “Just do what I do.”
The halfling was more than happy to follow the lead of a six-year-old troll.
Chapter Eight
“Cheyenne, have some more borsni.” Yadje gestured toward the bowl of vegetables and the piles of blue something the halfling had avoided.
“No, thanks. I think I saw it glowing.”
“That’s where all the flavor is.” Bryl grabbed one of the blue veggies that looked like a bioluminescent turnip and took a huge bite. A bright light flashed in her mouth, and Cheyenne shook her head.
“You were talking about your town, though.” The halfling nodded at the troll couple and tore off another piece of bread that tasted a little like strawberries. “I wanna hear more about it.”
“It was a fine place,” R’mahr replied, nodding quickly. “Such a beautiful place in the Oronti Valley. So many radan with their bright coats. That’s how we used to get so much of the color for our houses, you know. Soak the radan pelts in river water, and you have the color to put on whatever you want. Here, I think you just buy it in cans.”
“Paint?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
“We were very happy there,” Yadje added. “The best place to raise a family.”
Cheyenne scooped up another handful of the rice-noodle stuff—the trolls had had to assure her three times there was nothing alive in there when the noodles started moving on their own—and popped it all into her mouth. “So why did you leave?”
R’mahr paused with his hand halfway to his mouth, then jammed his next bite between his lips and avoided the question by chewing.
Yadje shared a glance with her husband and dipped her head. “It was no longer safe.”
“What happened?”
R’mahr swallowed thickly and sighed. “You know the Crown has different ideas of the places under their rule, Cheyenne. I doubt a single one of them ever made it out to Opéle to see our home for themselves, but they wanted it for the reaping all the same.”
“Sorry.” The halfling licked heavily spiced sauce off her lips. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Then you’re a very lucky phér móre.” Yadje gave her a stern look, then reached for more food. “We left before things became too difficult. I’m not sure many of the others were as prepared to do what was necessary.”
“You mean, crossing the Border.” Cheyenne looked back and forth between R’mahr and Yadje, neither of whom would look up at her as they kept chewing. That’s a definite yes.
“I thought it was fun.” Bryl brushed the shorter scarlet hairs away from her forehead, but they kept falling back into place. “An adventure. Just like Dahi said.”
“You were an excellent adventurer, Bryl.” R’mahr winked at his daughter, but the smile was just for show.
“We walked for days through the woods to get to the portal.” Bryl rested both elbows on the table and looked up at Cheyenne with wide scarlet eyes. “Built shelters every night. There wasn’t always water close by, but when we found the river, there was plenty to drink.”
“Really?” The halfling raised her eyebrows, waiting to hear more.
“Yeah, and that was the easy part.” The kid grinned and lifted both hands to animate her story. “The Border is like its own world. We had to say the spell on one side. I messed up, but Dahi reminded me. Then when you pass through, everything’s all dark everywhere you look. And there are these things that come out of the—”
“That’s enough, Bryl.” Yadje shot her daughter a warning look.
“But that’s the best part, Maji!”
“Your mother said enough, nin mel.” Now R’mahr shot the young girl the same look, and a bloom of dark purple spread across Bryl’s cheeks. “Cheyenne doesn’t want to hear about our journey through.”
His dark-red eyes flickered toward the halfling before he had to look away.
Rhynehart had said the crossing was rough. And they had done it with their kid.
Bryl bowed her head and dropped her hands into her lap, biting her lip to keep from saying anything else. There was a tense, awkward silence again, but this one wasn’t in anticipation of starting the meal.
Yadje took a sharp breath. “What did you think of the aesdur, Cheyenne?”
“Uh, which one was that?”
R’mahr let out a little chuckle as his wife pointed to a smaller dish of what looked like soup. The halfling had already figured out that when she touched the stuff, it hardened and drew itself into little round balls that tasted like chicken covered in chocolate.
“Right. Yeah, it was different.”
“I know.” The troll woman sighed and offered a shrug. “I always try to find the best ingredients to make the same meals from home. Peridosh has so many wonderful things, but they’re more focused on bringing in grog and fellwine and ingredients for spells than fresh O’gúleesh foods.”
Cheyenne couldn’t hold back a snort. “Did you say fellwine?”
R’mahr’s hand came down on the table, making the whole thing wobble dangerously on its thin legs. He got a silent reminder to watch himself from his wife’s quick glance. He ignored her. “You haven’t had fellwine?”
“Nope. Can’t say that I have.”
“Yadje, do you hear that? She’s never had fellwine!”
“I heard her say it the first time.” Yadje looked at the halfling and rolled her eyes.
“We can’t let her go any longer without tasting it.” The troll shook his head and puffed up his chest. “I told you we should have bought a flagon at Peridosh.”
“You say that every time, and we have more important things to spend our money on. You’re brain-addled enough as it is.”
R’mahr barked a laugh and clapped. “We’ll have to change that, Cheyenne.”
The halfling shrugged and couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like fun.”
“Not for you or anyone around you the next morning,” Yadje added. “Have you been to Peridosh?”
“No.” They must think I live in a box. “Didn’t even know it existed.”
“Richmond’s very own O’gúl market.” Yadje licked the sauce from her fingers. “We try
to make it out there once a week.”
“A magicals-only type of place.” R’mahr wiggled his eyebrows. “One of the only places we can get to these days where we don’t have to hide everything about who we are. It’s all out in the open at Peridosh, just like back home.”
Suddenly feeling a lot fuller than she’d thought, Cheyenne leaned slowly back in the chair and folded her arms. “That’s good to have around. How do they keep the place hidden?”
“Ha!” R’mahr gestured toward the halfling across the table and grinned at his wife. “She doesn’t know.”
“That settles it, then.” Yadje nodded at Cheyenne and grinned. “You should come with us the next time we go.”
“Wednesday!” R’mahr blinked, then turned toward his wife and leaned in. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Yes, R’mahr. We go on Wednesdays.”
“Wednesday!” The troll grabbed a heaping handful of the remaining blue borsni and shoveled it into his mouth, chewing with overexcited enthusiasm. “You’ll come with us, Cheyenne, and we’ll show you the best Peridosh has to offer.”
Yadje eyed the glowing bits of blue vegetable spilling from her husband’s mouth and shook her head. “He left his manners back in Ambar’ogúl with everything else.”
Cheyenne laughed as R’mahr waved off the insult.
“I’ll show you the potions tent,” Bryl exclaimed, gripping the edge of the table in her excitement. “You’ll love it. They have everything you can think of. Like, what you threw on that asshole orc last time you were—”
“Bryl!” Her mother snapped, then added, “Watch your tongue.”
“What? The potionmaster says it all the time!”
“You’re not the potionmaster, are you?” R’mahr raised an eyebrow, and her daughter made a face before dropping her gaze to the table again.
“I’ll show you when we go,” Bryl muttered, shooting Cheyenne a sideways glance.
“Can’t wait.” The halfling’s smile was tight as she tried not to alarm her odd magical hosts. Potions and kids haven’t been a good mix lately.
“Yes, yes.” R’mahr just kept nodding, oblivious to his daughter’s precocious cursing. “We’ll show you everything. You’ll be cooking O’gúleesh meals in no time.”
His wife snorted. “That’s not a promise, Cheyenne. He’s been going with me every week and still can’t figure out how to cook a damahs-dur.”
“Well, that’s because I have you,” R’mahr said, grinning at his wife. He leaned toward her again. “And you do it so very well.”
She brushed him off and rolled her eyes, although her small smile broke through with the playful banter.
Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen at the clock above the stove. After nine already? I guess I did enjoy myself.
“Well, thanks for dinner.” She grabbed the table to push herself up, but thought better of it when it wobbled. She scooted her chair back instead. “It was filling.”
“Yes, it sticks with you, eh?” Chuckling, R’mahr rose from the table and nodded. “Let me walk you to the door.”
The halfling raised her hand toward Bryl for a high-five, and the girl didn’t hesitate to smack her palm with a loud slap.
Yadje gasped. “Bryl!”
“Oh, no. It’s okay.” Cheyenne mimed another high-five with herself this time. “It’s just a high-five. A good thing here.”
The troll woman pressed her lips together and hummed in response, then she forced a smile aimed at their guest. “Thank you for coming tonight, Cheyenne. Our door is always open to you.”
“Thanks. You guys already figured out you can knock on mine any time.”
“Yes, yes.” R’mahr rounded the table and gestured across the living room. “I’ll walk you back to the door right now.”
“Uh, you don’t have to. I’m just down the hall.”
“I didn’t leave all my manners on the other side of the Border, Cheyenne. Even though my wife thinks otherwise.” He shot Yadje another wink and laughed when she tossed the last piece of bread at him. Then he opened the door and gestured for the halfling to step out into the hall.
“Don’t forget about Wednesday,” Bryl called after them.
“Not a chance.”
R’mahr walked beside her past the two apartments between them, patting his belly beneath another of his oversized t-shirts. “We are very glad you came to share a meal with us, Cheyenne. It means more than you can imagine, having a phér móre in our home. A friend.”
“Yeah, I enjoyed it.” She stopped beside her door and paused when she grabbed the handle. Then she turned back toward R’mahr and took a deep breath. “So, I wouldn’t feel right about it if I didn’t say something.”
The troll’s eyes widened in concern. “What happened? You really didn’t like the borsni, did you?”
“No, no. The borsni was good. It’s about the Peridosh market.”
“Oh. Yes?”
Cheyenne dropped her hand from the doorknob. Was there a way to say this without freaking him out?
“Bryl mentioned a potions tent.”
“She does love potions. Takes after my father, ancestors watch over him.”
“Right.” She licked her lips. “You guys should be careful in that place. There’s been a lot of nasty stuff floating around Richmond. All of Virginia, really, and some other states.”
R’mahr’s scarlet eyebrows drew together. “Nasty?”
“Potions. Charms. Black magic.” When she swallowed, it stuck in her throat for a second, and she pushed it down with the image of the dead kid in the damn ritual robes. “The guy who was making it got taken care of, but a lot of what he made is still out there. Most of it is targeted at kids.”
The troll’s mouth popped open. “To…”
“Yeah. I don’t think you guys have anything to worry about. Your kid’s a lot younger than the ones who got caught up in that stuff. Just keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s not picking anything up you wouldn’t touch yourself, okay?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Blinking furiously and blushing deep purple just like his daughter, R’mahr brought a fist up to his chest and held Cheyenne’s gaze with a surprising intensity. “Thank you, phér móre. You still do so much for us.”
She ignored his refusal to just use her name. “I’d do this for everybody, but I’ve actually met your daughter, and I like you guys. She’s a good kid. I don’t want to see her get hurt. Or you and Yadje.”
The troll thumped his chest again, closed his eyes, and nodded. Cheyenne stood there waiting for him to move again so she wouldn’t feel like an ass just leaving him there like that in the hallway. When he finally opened his eyes, they held a determination she hadn’t seen there before. “Forever grateful, Cheyenne.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then he broke out into a grin and pointed at her. “I look forward to Wednesday. You’ll see how impressive it is, what Yadje can do with the leftovers those vendors call fresh O’gúl crops.”
With a chuckle, Cheyenne opened the door to her apartment and gave him a little wave. “Can’t wait. Have a good night.”
“And you.” R’mahr bowed and fortunately turned away to hurry down the hall again before Cheyenne proved once again that she didn’t really know how to respond.
She slipped inside her apartment and closed the door behind her before kicking off her Vans again. Then she leaned against the door and closed her eyes with a sigh. That was harder than I thought, but worth it if it keeps one more kid from dying.
After she pulled herself back together, she headed for her desk and the slip of scrap paper on which she’d written Durg’s address. She took her phone out of her pocket just long enough to type the address into her GPS, then she grabbed her jacket off the floor and shrugged it on. There’s one more asshole who needs to pay.
Chapter Nine
She chose to walk from her apartment on the southeast end of the VCU campus. It was more than enough time to get herself all amped up for
kicking some orc ass, and the crisp night air of late September helped her focus her energy. A lot harder to find me later if no one sees me get out of my car.
East Clay Street was crowded as usual, even on a Sunday night. The bars were full, the music playing so loud she heard five different songs at once, and no one paid much attention to the Goth chick on a mission stalking through Jackson Ward. Then she found herself on the same route Ember had taken from the bar two weeks ago to the skatepark. A new swell of rage burned through her when she walked down the street beside the park and caught a glimpse of the skatepark at the other end. The city had repaired the shredded chain-link fence she’d ripped apart with her magic after her first round of going full drow berserker in front of everyone.
Wonder if they got the blood out yet.
Cheyenne walked around the park, heading toward the northwest side tonight instead. Durg’s house was close to the park.
Ten minutes later, she found herself on Durg’s street, just where she was supposed to be. The streetlights were on, casting halos of dim light across the asphalt and the sidewalks around them. Dim enough not to put a drow halfling in the spotlight, at least.
She pulled out her phone and double-checked where she was on the GPS. The house she wanted was another block down. The halfling headed that way, forcing her drow power down until she was really ready to use it. No accidental magic tonight. No failures.
When she stopped in front of the house just beside Durg’s, she almost laughed. Not that she’d expected a rotting, crumbling shack like Q’orr’s, but this just looked like every other two-story family home on the street, except for where the trees had been planted and the length of the grass in each lawn. Durg’s house was pale-blue, almost green in the glow of the streetlamps.
