by Martha Carr
“That your Panamera?”
She turned around and peered at a man in his late sixties, maybe early seventies. The man’s light-blue eyes glistened with excitement, the tips of his white handlebar mustache fluttering in the autumn breeze. “Yeah. Great car.”
The man whistled. “I’ll say. I’ve had my eye on that model since they announced it.”
Muttering and shooting Cheyenne wary glances, the matching sweaters finally left the parking kiosk and hurried across the parking lot. The halfling stepped forward for her turn, and the man took the next slot in line behind her.
“You should get yourself one,” Cheyenne said with another nod at her car. “Best purchase I’ve made in a while.” The man’s eyebrows flickered up in surprise. He’s thinking I barely look old enough to drive the thing.
Then a soft chuckle escaped him. “Oh, I’m tryin’. But the missus keeps telling me if I put any more cars in our garage, I can move out there with ‘em.”
Laughing, Cheyenne punched in the numbers of her temporary license plate and pulled out her second debit card. “Tough battle to fight.”
“Huh. I tell ya.”
“You a collector?”
The man sniffed. “Restoration, actually. Custom stuff. Been doin’ it for years.”
She pulled her card out of the reader, grabbed the receipt to put on the dash, and turned around. “Really?”
“That’s my 1937 Packard 120 over there.” The man pointed across the parking lot at the opalescent royal-purple vintage car taking up half of two parking spaces.
He’s one of those. Cheyenne laughed. “That’s one seriously funky car, man.”
“Just the beginning. I like to switch ‘em out and take ‘em into town now and then. You know, keep ‘em running.” The guy pulled out his wallet and slipped out a card before handing it over. “If you’re looking for custom updates, give me a call.”
Cheyenne took the card and studied it. Blast from the Past Auto Restoration by Lee McDurn.
“Updates, huh?” She glanced at her brand-new car and smirked. “You just wanna get your hands on a Panamera, don’t you?”
“You got me there.” The man stuck out his hand. “Lee McDurn.”
The halfling grabbed his hand and grinned. Oh, what the hell? “Cheyenne Summerlin.”
“Nice to meet you, Cheyenne. Don’t lose that card now. I’m serious. Anything you need.”
“I know who to call.” She raised the card before slipping it into her pocket. He didn’t even blink at my full name. Must spend more time on cars than politics.
She glanced at him again over her shoulder, but Lee McDurn was busy at the parking kiosk. The halfling unlocked her car, put the receipt on the dash, and locked it again.
Lee turned around at the chirp and waved her off. “All right. We get it.”
Chuckling, Cheyenne hurried across the parking lot toward the Fro-Yo place that wasn’t really a Fro-Yo place.
The little bell on the door jingled when she stepped inside, and only a few customers looked up when she entered. All of them looked quickly away, except for a family of three standing near the checkout counter, chatting with Tony.
“Cheyenne!” The man with short, spiked blond hair and a button-down flannel a size too big waved at her. The woman beside him, her long blonde hair falling down her back and the bangs cut just above her eyebrows, grabbed his arm and jerked it back down by his side. The little girl in front of them with two thick blonde braids draped over her shoulders grinned and gave the halfling an excited little wave.
They all look exactly the same. Trying not to laugh, Cheyenne approached the troll family and nodded. “Sorry if I kept you guys waiting.”
“Don’t apologize to us, Cheyenne,” R’mahr said, his eagerness just as apparent on a human face as it was on a troll’s. “We’re honored to be invited.”
“Well, I need a guide to show me all the best places, right?” The halfling grinned down at Bryl, who bounced up and down. “You’re really rockin’ the Little House on the Prairie look, kid.”
The girl’s frown squished her whole face. “What’s that?”
“Uh, never mind. It’s cute. Hey, Tony.”
The grumpy man standing behind the counter looked the halfling up and down and shook his head. “You sure have a weird range of friends, doncha?”
“I’m a people person, man.” She shrugged and turned toward the door in the back marked Employees Only. Keep Out. “Come on. Let’s go.”
The troll family nodded at Tony before following the halfling.
“Cheyenne,” Yadje whispered, looking mortified, “was he talking about us? Are we your weird friends?”
Cheyenne opened the door and gestured for the family to step in first. All my friends are weird. “No, Yadje. You’re not weird at all.”
When she shut the door behind her and leaned against the stainless-steel wall of the elevator down to Peridosh, the troll woman looked like she was on the verge of tears.
“Hey, don’t listen to the disgruntled employee behind the counter, okay? He was just as unhappy with my other friends.”
Yadje and R’mahr exchanged hurt looks. The troll man rubbed his face and turned pained eyes on the halfling. “You’ve been here before.”
Great. I hurt their feelings. “Uh, yeah. Just once. A spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“And they showed you what Peridosh has to offer?” Yadje asked, tossing the blonde bangs away from her cornflower-blue eyes.
“Not really.” Cheyenne glanced at Bryl, but the girl was in her own little world, muttering to herself about finally getting her hands on what she needed. “They took me straight through the place to the Empty Barrel, and we didn’t go anywhere else.”
“Ah.” R’mahr’s mouth opened with a little pop. “Those kinds of friends.”
His wife tsked at him and slapped his arm. “She’s allowed to have friends, R’mahr. We can’t be the only other O’gúleesh she knows.”
R’mahr’s mouth twitched in an embarrassed smile. “I had hopes.”
“Oh, stop it. I already have one child to look after.” Her usual rough humor back, Yadje plastered on a smile for Cheyenne and nodded. “We’re happy to be here with you now, Cheyenne. And we will not be taking you to the Empty Barrel.”
“Yeah, not in the middle of the day.” The halfling smirked, but the troll couple didn’t find it very amusing.
“Not ever.” Yadje’s lips pressed tightly into a grim line of disapproval. “But what you do on your own time is none of our business. So.”
Why does this feel like a scolding a la Bianca Summerlin? Cheyenne dipped her head toward the troll couple, glancing between them. “I’m still glad you guys came with me.”
“You’re gonna love it.” Bryl’s high voice cut the tension in the slowly descending elevator. “Really, really love it.”
The halfling couldn’t keep from chuckling a little. “Can’t wait.”
“Well. Time to slip out of these.” Yadje pulled a thin silver ring from her index finger, and her human-illusion mask fell away in an instant. She tossed her long scarlet hair over her shoulder and smiled at her daughter. Her scarlet fingers twisted in a quick spell, and Bryl’s illusion fell away.
R’mahr pushed up his shirtsleeve to remove a thin metal band from around his wrist, then he stood there in the elevator with his natural purple skin and scarlet hair and eyes.
All three trolls watched Cheyenne expectantly.
“Oh. Right.” The half-drow went to her happy place and found the door locked. Corian can’t be pissed at me for this. Gotta do it if I wanna learn those spells. She reached up to untie the knot in the thin silver chain supporting the Heart of Midnight pendant. It slithered away from her neck, and she pocketed it before slipping into her drow form.
“Ah.” R’mahr’s smile widened as the Goth chick’s pale skin darkened to purple-gray, the tips of her pointed ears reappearing through stark white hair. “I don’t believe I’ve seen that yet.”
> Cheyenne stretched her neck from one side to the other. Locking this up feels like I’ve been in a cage. “Well, now you have.”
Yadje nodded at the halfling’s pocket. “You found yourself an illusion charm.”
“Sort of.”
Bryl stared shamelessly at the half-drow and slowly nodded. “I like you much better like this.”
“Bryl.”
“It’s true.”
“Thanks, kid.” Cheyenne gave the troll woman a reassuring smile. “I like it too. Still me, though, right?”
“Yeah, but better.”
When the halfling chuckled, the troll couple loosened up a little and offered weak laughs in return. Then the elevator shivered to a stop below the streets of Richmond, Virginia, and the doors opened.
“Yes!” Bryl darted out of the elevator, her mother racing after her.
R’mahr stepped out slowly and waited for the halfling to join him. “You leave it to us, Cheyenne. Your other friends might have thought carousing in an O’gúleesh tavern was the best way to honor you, but they were wrong. Stick with us, huh? We’ll show you the true value of what can be found here from back home.”
“Thanks, R’mahr.” Cheyenne nodded. “That’s why I asked you to join me.”
“Good.” For the first time since she’d met him, the troll man puffed out his chest and strutted down the wide avenue lined with shopfronts and vendor stalls, his confidence buoyed by the drow halfling walking beside him.
Cheyenne caught sight of Yadje tightly clutching her daughter’s hand as Bryl tried to jerk away, pointing at something behind a brightly-colored booth. This’ll be interesting.
Chapter Sixty-One
Peridosh was still a busy place, but it had a different ambiance in the middle of the day. Definitely not like a Tuesday night with off-duty FRoE agents getting into drunken barfights.
The vendors selling their wares to the hidden magical community scattered through Richmond were a lot happier and much more inviting. Some tried to smile at the half-Drow as she followed R’mahr and his family down the avenue. Most just stared, but it was in curiosity this time instead of wary disapproval.
“So, what do you need to find, Cheyenne?” R’mahr nodded amiably at a skaxen woman in a long-sleeved dress and way too much makeup.
“Ingredients for spells, mostly. Maybe some potions.” She rubbed her forearm absently through her black hoody. These cuts itch like hell when I’m thinking about ‘em. “Some healing salves—”
“Oh! Don’t worry about that last one. Yadje keeps everything you could possibly want in that little bag slung over her shoulder. But yes. Spells and potions. You’ll find everything you need in Bryl’s favorite shop.” The troll man chuckled and gestured toward his wife and daughter.
The girl tugged on her mother’s sleeve now, still anxiously trying to pull out of Yadje’s grip on her wrist so she could step into the potionmaster’s shop on this side of the Empty Barrel. Yadje, though, used her other hand to examine more of those glowing blue vegetables they’d tried to feed Cheyenne earlier that week.
“Maji, Maji, Come on! There’s only one calver fin left. What if someone gets it first?”
“Well, you’d just have to wait until there’s more, wouldn’t you?” Yadje didn’t even look at her daughter, but she replaced the blue vegetable and nodded at the vendor behind the cart. “Settle down. I’m coming.”
Chuckling, R’mahr followed them into the shop. Cheyenne paused when she caught a whiff of something cooking farther down the avenue. Barbequed sausage and…oranges? Fortunately, the din of customers, window-shoppers, and vendors was loud enough to drown out the grumbling of her stomach. Too many errands and not enough food.
“Cheyenne? Are you coming?” R’mahr’s head poked back out of the potionmaster’s shop, and the halfling nodded.
“Yep. Just smelled something cooking.”
“Ah, yes. Nothing like the fare they make down here, is there?” He stopped when Yadje turned around to shoot him a warning look, and the troll man cleared his throat. “Excluding my dear Yadje’s homecooked meals, of course.”
His wife rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide a small smile beneath her exasperation.
“Oh, look.” Bryl darted toward a shelf of different-sized vials, all of them filled with what looked like sand in every color imaginable. “It’s still here.”
Yadje nodded in feigned surprise when her daughter picked up the last vial of black sand and thrust it in the air above her head. Then the girl scampered around the shop, touching things here and there, peering into glass cases or open crates of who knew what.
“R’mahr.” Cheyenne pulled her gaze away from the girl and leaned toward the troll man. “You remember what I told you the other day about keeping an eye on what Bryl brings home, right?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, yes.” He lowered his voice and dipped his head. “The black magic? Of course, I remember, Cheyenne. And we appreciate the information more than we can say.”
“You told Yadje?”
“I did. She’s always had an eye trained on what Bryl brings home with her, but I imagine now she’ll be going through every little thing twice and three times over.” The troll nodded firmly as if that settled the matter.
“Good. That stuff could still be out there. Just be careful.”
“Absolutely. Yes.”
R’mahr left her to join his daughter in fawning over some kind of bird skull.
Why do I get the feeling he’s not paying attention?
A grunt came from behind the counter, and Cheyenne turned to meet the yellow gaze of the wizened orc with the long white beard. His scowl hadn’t changed since her last visit to Peridosh. We meet again.
“I don’t taint my supplies, drow.” He said it in defense, yet it sounded like a warning.
“I didn’t say you do.” The halfling gazed around the shop and stepped closer to the potionmaster’s counter. “I’m glad to hear you know what to keep out of your shop, at least.”
“I know more about the bonds of magical components than any half-cocked O’gúleesh in this cursed realm,” the orc spat. “Even you.”
Just let him have his moment. Cheyenne slipped her phone out of her pocket and opened her photos. “Also, good to hear. That’s why I’m standing in your shop.”
The orc’s scowl contorted even more when she handed him her phone and made a swiping gesture.
“I need everything on these lists, and I’m guessing you’re the orc who can help me out.”
The potionmaster’s eyes twitched as he scanned the items on one photo after another. When he looked at Cheyenne, the intensity of his gaze made her lean away a little. “Where did you get these pages?”
“They were given to me.”
His yellow eyes widened, and he set her phone down on her side of the counter. “Do you know who penned the spells?”
“The same person who gave them to me. I got a copy of the whole book.” Hope we don’t have a problem here.
The orc cleared his throat, then his scowl returned and he reached under the counter and pulled out a basket woven tightly with dark-brown reeds, twigs, and thin leather thongs. He stepped out from behind the counter and muttered, “I don’t do this for everyone.”
“Hey, I appreciate it. But you could just point those things out to me instead, and I’ll grab them. You don’t have to—”
“I do, and you know it.” The orc’s narrow eyes darted around his shop and paused for a minute on the open entrance. “As far as I’m concerned, drow, the old laws still stand. Even in this wretched place.”
He searched along the back wall of his shop, peering at the full shelves and the displays of supplies laid out on counters below them.
Cheyenne swallowed and slipped her phone back into her pocket. People keep assuming I know what the hell they’re talking about. Her curiosity drove her to follow the old, hunched magical, trying to see what he pulled from the shelves.
The potionmaster had only pulled down
one bundle of dried herbs to toss into his basket before he turned with surprising speed. “I don’t need a guard, drow. I’ll abide by the old laws, sure, but not with you breathing down my neck.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne lifted both hands in surrender and took a step back. “Just trying to watch and learn.”
“Then I’d be out of a trade, wouldn’t I?” The orc hissed at her, then turned around again and mumbled, “Never part of the agreement, anyway. I’ll draw the line on this side.”
Not sure the old crazy guy should be selling magical ingredients. The halfling looked up to see all three trolls watching her with wide eyes. She shrugged and shook her head, and R’mahr glanced at the potionmaster making his slow way through his inventory.
“Cheyenne,” Yadje called with a last glance at the elderly orc. “Have you seen an O’gúl hornet’s web?”
“Nope.”
“Come here.” The troll woman waved the halfling forward as her husband and daughter turned back toward the wall of shelving they’d been studying.
Clearing her throat, Cheyenne stepped around the crowded display of gemstones and small cups of seeds taking up the center of the shop. The trolls made room for her to join them, and R’mahr leaned in to whisper, “He’s one of the best, Cheyenne. Used to serve the Crown, you know.”
“Really?” The halfling cast a quick sidelong glance toward the muttering old orc. Then I need to be careful.
“Yes. For most of his life.”
Cheyenne lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “So, why’s he here?”
“Cast out,” R’mahr muttered. “At the turn of the new cycle. Most of the old masters and advisors were, if not all of them.”
“The new cycle is…”
“Ascendance.” The troll man’s eyes widened, and Cheyenne copied the expression, shaking her head.
Yadje scoffed and leaned toward them. “A new regime, Cheyenne. One steps down, and another steps up as the Crown.”
Her husband frowned at her. “You can’t sugarcoat it like that, Yadje. No one stepped down.”
“They used to.”
