“Back to see us so soon? As well ye should. The Rusty Horn has the best ale in all the Lower Isle, doncha know. And fresh kelpie wafers with wandering strix eggs for the morn. So what’ll it be for ye and yer pretty boy?”
Pretty boy?
Twig squeezed my knee under the table in a bid to keep me silent. I glared at him. Pretty boy?
“Sounds good, Charity. Bring us a couple tankards and some strix and wafers. Don’t be stingy now.” He gave her a wicked smile.
Charity laughed, batted her lashes. “For ye? Never.”
As she sauntered away, her ample hips swinging outrageously, Twig called, “If you see Two-Toes, ask him to park his ass with us a bit.”
“Ye got it, darlin’.” She grinned over her shoulder.
Though I knew her charms held no interest for him, jealousy sat heavy in my gut.
“Quit glaring before I have to defend your precious hide. Charity carries a wicked blade under that skirt.”
I turned my gaze his way, crossed my arms. “Oh, you’re so funny. And how would you know where she keeps her knife—”
“Twig! I dinnae expect ta see you so soon. And you brought yer wizard.” A guy almost Twig’s size, with a shaggy red beard and two waist-length braids, approached our table and awkwardly placed his meaty hands together. “Uh, peace unto you, I mean, may the Goddesses grant you peace.” His thick burr spoke of ancestors from one of the northernmost islands but his distinctly Islingwall inflection meant he’d likely been born and raised here.
“And unto you. But I don’t believe in that stuff, so don’t feel obligated.”
His laughter boomed throughout the room, drawing curious gazes our way. Unlike Twig, who could only be a dragon, if this guy could shift into anything, it would be a bugbear. His muscles were less defined than Twig’s, yet still impressive. And all that mass covered in a layer of fine red hair. Definitely a bugbear.
Two of the seagulls near the chill stick launched themselves onto his massive shoulders, squawking in excitement.
“I should have kenned Twig wouldn’t tolerate no wizard who bought in ta all that rubbish.” He extended his hair-covered fist for a bump.
I returned the gesture, and then Twig did the same. At that moment, Charity reappeared with two food-laden plates and three tankards of ale, her gaze firmly on me this time. My stomach let out an embarrassing growl.
“I don’t suppose you have any lava java?” I sounded ridiculously hopeful.
Charity chortled. “Ah, yer waggish as well as pretty. Do ye favor the grounds o’ steamy bolt? Closest we can do fer ye.”
I tried not to wrinkle my nose. Ugh. Steamy bolt tasted like boiled zombie toes in putrid water. “I’ll stick with ale, thanks.”
“’Course, lovey. Ye let me know if ye need anything more.”
After we thanked her, and she retreated, Twig indicated that the bugbear man should join us.
“Quinn, this is Ogden ‘Two-Toes’ Salem. He owns the tavern. Two-Toes, as you guessed, this is Quinn Broomsparkle, wizard extraordinaire.”
“Pleasure ta meet you.” Two-Toes pointed at Twig. “This guy proved ta be mighty entertainin’ when he showed up with our Zak. First guy ta beat me in arm wrestling in more than a decade. Lots o’ customers lost serious coin on that one. You and Zak look just alike, by the way. I’d ken you anywhere.”
“Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”
Two-Toes absently ran a large forefinger over a seagull’s head. The other cawed disconsolately, plucking at his beard until Two-Toes stroked him as well. “Needy beasts,” he grumbled while continuing to alternate stroking them.
I took a bite of my food before saying, “Zak’s actually why we’re here. Have you seen him around?”
Two-Toes glanced at Twig, his eyes narrowing. “Not since the lad came in wi’ yer dragon. Has somethin’ happened? If he’s taken by the Patrol, I can come with you ta bail him out. Sometimes they like ta hassle the young ones, assuming they can get away with it. I have a friend there, so she usually alerts me if one o’ mine’s in custody.”
“My parents’ house burned down yesterday with everyone but Zak inside. It looks like it wasn’t accidental.”
“Yer not claiming that Zak done it, are you? That laddie is trouble no doubt, but he’s not in possession o’ a mean bone in his body. And, forgive the disrespect, but I dinnae appreciate you slurring his character.” Two-Toes crossed his meaty arms.
“I’m grateful you look out for him—”
“Och, I look after my own.” His lip curled as he leaned toward me.
Placing my hand on Twig’s thigh so he wouldn’t intervene—though I couldn’t prevent him from growling—I made sure to keep eye contact with Two-Toes. “So do I. He’s missing, and may be in trouble. I need to find him.”
A tense silence ensued.
Finally, Two-Toes nodded. “You plan ta look after the laddie then?”
“I do.”
“Good. He’s needs lookin’ after. That one can’t keep his trousers on or his mouth shut for nuthin.” Two-Toes grinned.
I blanched. Twig choked on his ale next to me. I did not need to know that about my little brother.
Two-Toes went on like he hadn’t scarred me for life. “I can get ahold o’ my contact at the Patrol and see if she has any news. I’ll also ask a couple o’ the dock rats if they seen him and ta put the word out that yer looking for him.”
“Dock rats?”
“Aye, the bairns who run the streets. They’re a good bunch mostly. Pick-pocket a little. Willing ta do small jobs ta support themselves. I allow a group o’ them ta use me public room in the winter months to warm up, as long as they don’t hassle the payin’ customers and help in the kitchens when needed.”
Twig reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out some coins. He handed them to Two-Toes, who bit into one and pocketed it.
While Two-Toes slugged back his ale, Twig and I devoured our meals. I was so hungry I could eat a full-sized dragon. Charity stopped by to drop off another heaping plate of strix and wafers for Twig, whose appetite could be fearsome.
“Charity, luv.” Two-Toes wrapped an arm around her hips when she stepped close. “Will you ask Jester ta come here for a trice?”
“’Course, Og. Anything fer ye.” Charity tugged playfully at Two-Toes’ beard before disappearing into the kitchens.
“Now, that, gentlemen, is a lady o’ quality. Loyal, that one. And tough. Good qualities in a hen.” He grinned, missing teeth not taking away from the genuine expression of fondness.
“Or a man,” Twig added.
“Or a dragon,” I teased.
“G’day, gents. Two-Toes, I hear ya need me? There’s a royal-coral roast on the spit. Unless you want it black, you betta be quick.” A tiny youth with shaggy black hair, brilliant green eyes, and ears that looked too elven to be completely human, appeared as if he popped there. Twig and I both jumped, but Two-Toes just laughed.
“This scamp is Jester, a thief o’ the first degree and an even better cook.”
Jester’s ears turned bright red. “Don’t listen to him. I’m only an okay cook.” He reached in his oversized, grubby tunic and pulled out a pouch that looked suspiciously like Twig’s and tossed it to him. “You lost this, mate.”
Dragons didn’t like to be parted from their hoards, so I wasn’t sure how Twig would react. He stiffened, and I tightened my hand on his thigh. Forcing himself to relax, he offered Jester a begrudged smile. “I’m impressed, kid. My dragon didn’t even sense you.”
Jester smiled sheepishly. “Gotta give it a crack, y’know? Keep’n the skills sharp. Ya might want this back, too.” He pulled out Zak’s amulet and held it out. Before either Twig or I could grab it, Two-Toes snatched it. He turned it over in his huge palm.
“Jester, you recognize this, dinnae you now?” His face scrunched in what could only be worry.
“Fuck me. It was Zak’s, right? He in trouble? That why he didn’t meet me after my shift last night?” He sig
hed. “We were gunna have a pash mash on the wharf with some pirates . . . uh, sailors.”
Two-Toes closed his fist around the amulet for a second before handing it to me. “The laddie would never go without this. You ken that, right?”
I nodded, trying to scrub the image of Zak picking up pirates from my brain. He might not be a kid anymore, yet he wasn’t legal age, either. “That’s why we’re here.”
“I need you ta find out what you can.” Two-Toes rested his meaty paw on Jester’s thin shoulder. “Talk ta the bairns and see what they ken.”
“You got it.” He made eye contact with me. “Zak looks up to you. I hope ya worth his admiration. He doesn’t have much in the way of rellies.”
Before I could answer, Jester disappeared back into the kitchens as suddenly as he’d arrived.
“If we learn anything urgent, I’ll send Jester. Otherwise, come back tomorrow. Could be pirates holding him for ransom. Could be a lot o’ folks that want something from you.”
“So, you don’t think this could be trouble he got into on his own?” I didn’t think so, but I wanted Two-Toes’ confirmation.
“Your brother is a chancer, that’s true. Anyone has a beef with him, they ken ta come ta me, and I’d settle up. I dinnae let no one mess with mine.”
“Definitely related to Quinn’s reappearance in the Hominus then.” Twig slammed his stein down harder than he probably intended. “We figured as much.”
“It’s a safe bet ta take. Don’t worry yerself too much, the bairns are quick with information, and I’ll check with the Patrol anon.”
“We were just with Commander Graves, so I doubt the Patrol have him.” I pushed my plate away, feeling sick to my stomach. Two-Toes’ obvious worry only increased my own.
Two-Toes wrinkled his nose. “Graves is a good commander no doubt, but she dinnae have the best crew ta work with. Won’t surprise me none if Zak’s in custody and she dinnae ken it. There’s corruption she’s trying to stomp out from within. Not sure why the Council dismissed her. Our lucky day, if you ask me. She culled the worst o’ the lot already. ’Specially the ones that hurt bairns. Runs a tight ship, she does. Would have made a good pirate captain.”
In all the commotion at my parents’ place, I hadn’t thought to follow up on that piece of information about Graves. “She was one of the High Rei’s guards, right?”
“Not one o’ the guards. The guard. Rumor had it she and High Rei Blodwin were involved. That scar on the side o’ her face? She got it defending the last High Rei from bandits. Pirates they say, but I dinnae believe it. I dinnae recognize a single one o’ the lot. Not a one. And some of the bandits were witches. A couple even stayed here for a few nights aforehand. Dinnae mix with any o’ the locals. Nae, it wasn’t pirates. Assassins more like. ’Course no one asked me.”
“What happened?” Twig and I had read Auric’s file so we knew the last High Rei died in a pirate ambush and it had set off a new wave of crackdowns in Islingwall Isle, and the rest of the islands as well.
“Dinnae have much ta say. Graves survived. The last High Rei wasn’t as lucky. While I’m not overly fond of any o’ them, at least with the last one, there was relative peace with the pirates. But now? A pirate can’t hardly make an honest livin’ thieving without being accosted by witches. It’s a sad state o’ affairs.”
There seemed to be a lot wrong with the state of affairs in Islingwall. And whether or not we wanted to be, it looked like we were now involved. Those witches didn’t know what they were in for.
23
Entering the Revelation Archives, Twig wrinkled his nose. “I swear this place was a tavern before. You really can’t smell the smoke?”
“Nope. That’s wishful thinking on your part.”
“Would it hurt for them to have some tankards of ale available? A dragon gets parched.”
We made a beeline for the help desk. I’d only rummaged up two of the needed ingredients for Pie’s spell, though I’d bought and applied the muscle soreness cream and already felt some relief. I’d either pick up the other ingredients at another apothecary, or if we found Zak, we’d head back to the Elder and I’d find the ingredients there. The mating question, as important as it was to Twig and me, could wait.
No Beckett at the desk. However, the same witch we met when we first came to the archives slammed tome after tome onto a small shelf that appeared to possess a mind of its own. It quivered and jerked whenever she placed a book on it. Animated furniture, while handy, could be the absolute worst if it malfunctioned.
As we approached, a towering bookshelf with squeaky wheels came barreling around the worktables, knocking over a chair, and careening straight for us. It skittered, and the back end mermaid-tailed before course-correcting and continuing on. We jumped back and barely avoided being run over as it shot past. On the bookcase’s end a sign read, ‘historical ale mixtures.’ Figures.
Twig eyed the retreating shelf balefully like it might back up and come after us. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen. Not by a long shot.
The archivist looked up from her task, took one look at Twig, squeaked, and scurried toward the back room.
“Wait!” I called, but she didn’t even slow. I sighed and might have glared at Twig.
He shrugged and gave a toothy grin, his fangs peeking through. Oh, ha ha.
We stood at the desk for a bit. Not surprisingly, no one else came to greet us. More bookshelves sped past, though otherwise the archives remained quiet. “Maybe we should go look for an archivist? Doesn’t appear we’ll get any help at reception today.” I deserved a pat on the back for not poking Twig when I said it.
Twig cupped his hands to his mouth. “Beckett Yardley, come out, come out, wherever you are.” His rumbling voice ricocheted through the lobby and probably several floors. Patrons’ heads poked out from behind shelves, and several witches gave us dirty looks. Couldn’t blame them a bit.
When Beckett still didn’t appear, Twig cupped his hands again. I elbowed him. Perhaps a little harder than necessary. He put his hands down, not at all repentant, which is pretty much what it’s like living with a dragon.
A bookshelf sped in our direction once again. I wouldn’t have paid it much mind, except an elderly witch hung on to the back, her feet planted on the bottom shelf, with an enormous wolf-like dog trotting close behind. Because, naturally, we attracted anything odd.
Twig leaned back against the reception desk, a grin on his face. “Now she’s got style.”
The bookshelf came to a shuddering stop, only feet from us, the back end skidding a bit. Hopping off, the elderly witch grasped the dog’s ruff, which reached her shoulder. They hobbled over, the witch’s multicolored robes billowing around her stooped form. Both she and the dog sported matching green eyes that glowed in their intensity. Unnerving to say the least.
She held up a finger and jabbed it our way, her long white hair cascading to below her knees. “Who’s making all this racket?”
Never one to sell out my familiar, I stayed quiet, though it probably spoke volumes. Twig looked around like he wanted to identify the nearest exits in case we needed to make a run for it. Then he slowly pointed to himself.
The witch eyed him up and down. Then she laughed. Long and waaay too loud for the archives. “A real knee-slapper. We needed a little levity in here today. The silence gets oppressive with all these witches taking themselves too seriously. What can Bitsy and I do for you?”
Bitsy? Twig’s laughter radiated through our link. He had a thing about names.
“We’re looking for Beckett Yardley, ma’am. She’s helping with some research.” I gave her my best Quinn Broomsparkle™ smile.
“Don’t you ma’am me, wizardling. I might be old but I’m not dead yet.” She waggled her finger in my direction, and Bitsy yawned, showing all her big, sharp teeth. Guess Bitsy and Twig were cut from the same protective cloth.
“Um, of course. Apologies, uh, miss. So, have you seen Beckett?”
“Miss?
Ooh, I like that. Makes me feel like a girl again.” She flipped thick strands of hair over her shoulder in a flirtatious gesture. “In my day, I charmed all the boys. And girls. Popular, I was.”
“Okaaay. That’s, uh, great.” Was it possible to be both charmed and impatient? Impatient won. “So, Beckett?”
“The youngling didn’t show up for work today.” She gave Bitsy a pat, and the dog chuffed. I swear it appeared amused.
Twig and I exchanged worried looks.
“Does she do that often?” Twig straightened up, his attention now firmly on the old woman.
“Nah, she’s a reliable one, dragon-spawn.” The archivist said nothing more. Like pulling teeth.
“Is she sick?” I asked, a little less charmed.
“You sure ask a lot of questions. No wonder you spend your time in the archives. We’ve the answers here to almost any question. Almost.” The witch smiled, showing a perfect set of pearly white teeth, so at odds with the rest of her frail form.
I clenched my jaw. Time was of the essence. Still, I forced myself to smile.
“I’m having a small bit of fun at your expense, wizardling. The girl isn’t sick. Just absent. If I had to guess, I’d say she finally went to reclaim what’s rightfully hers.” She gave me a significant look.
I had the impression Beckett didn’t tell most people about her pirate pedigree, so I hesitated to believe that’s what the old woman intended. I kept my face expression neutral. I wouldn’t out Beckett.
She chortled and looked around before mock whispering, “She and that ghost bird lit out of here last night like they were on fire. It doesn’t take too much to figure she’s gone after her ship. I suspect we’ve seen the last of her . . . at least in the archives.”
It cost me to keep from showing my surprise. I could well believe Pie encouraged Beckett to fight for her birthright. Yet I didn’t quite believe she’d share such a secret with this old woman. Perhaps she listened in to our conversation? The conference rooms contained ample warding for soundproofing. It didn’t mean someone couldn’t eavesdrop, if they knew how to override the wards.
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