Chapter 31
More and More and More
Hiccup
Abigail paid me a visit. I welcomed her with all the luxury my estate and butlers could produce. But she wanted nothing but a stroll through the gardens. I bit my nails while she and Corylus ambled about and caught up. When at last Corylus left her by the hog-peanuts, which were poison-ivy look-alikes, I joined her there.
“Hiccup,” she said. She wore one of her biggest smiles yet.
“Abigail. I am thrilled that you’ve come here. If you’ll excuse my lack of enthusiasm, it is only because I am still haunted by my recent behavior; what’s worse, we have much to discuss.”
“Something the matter? Have you seen Thrush?”
“I’m desperate to talk about Thrush; however, there is some redeeming I should apply myself to. Therefore I will postpone that topic until after I’ve filled you in on the latest developments.”
Abigail led the way into the barley field where my silos towered. The barley was at its peak. The kernels were the rusty color of late curly dock. The stems sheened bronze beneath a sun that sprawled through a thick haze. Summer was nigh.
I told her about Aosh the necromancer. He rode north.
Abigail stopped and expressed her concern. “North?” she said. “Hawkin?”
“He wants to commission Hawkin for an ethereal plane beer to use as a phylactery.”
“A necromancer. Powerful?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he a threat?”
“He passed harmlessly through the city. Avoided the guard and kept a low profile. Didn’t seem too keen on attracting attention.”
“You said that there’s more,” she said.
We resumed our amble back to the mansion grounds beneath an arch of honeysuckle and hanging amaranth.
“We are still to this day turning away the bereaved. In addition, when I escorted Aosh to the stables, I ran into a throng of adventurers; and all of them were heading north to seek out Hawkin.”
“You jest.”
“Alchemists, scholars, those bereaved I mentioned, there were even a few Brewers. There were others still whose quest paths I could not easily discern.”
We turned down a row of geraniums that alternated with spider plants. The spider plants had stems and pups that hung all the way to the path like beaded curtains. As soon as we turned down the row, a startled figure jumped and put their hands behind their back.
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“Evon,” I said.
“Eth-Hiccup. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” Abigail said.
“Sorry to startle you,” Evon said. “I’ll be on my way.”
“What have you got there?” I said.
He revealed a pair of old shears. “I was looking for the gardener.”
“Groundskeeper,” Abigail corrected. “He’s headed home for the day.
“Right,” Evon said. His gaze darted about, and then he was off.
Once out of earshot, Abigail said, “wasn’t that odd?”
“Losing his quest path to the Alik has really done a number on him. I worry about him. I want to help him.”
“They don’t know where we reside.”
“We?”
“...Hawkin and I.”
“Abigail!”
She blushed. Before I could press for an explanation, she said, “where have your fable rank guests gone?”
It was my most dreaded moment of our conversation. “North.”
Abigail spun to face me. “North? They too travel north to find Hawkin?”
“There was nothing I could do. Believe me.”
If Thrush had maybe come earlier…But I couldn’t say that. It was my fault that Hawkin had paused trade with me. I could only take responsibility and move forward. The more that Abigail stood there agape, the more I feared that there would be no moving forward. She clenched her fists at her side. The muscles in her jaw tightened.
“Abigail?”
She glared.
“I assure you, there was nothing I could do. They meant to wait for Thrush. At some point, their patience ran thin and they departed. And speaking of Thrush, he came by…Margaux too…She’s in danger. Thrush went after her like he was hunting her; like he was intent on killing her. He fell upon her and ripped her body with his teeth. It was a gruesome scene, Abigail.”
She massaged her temples.
I continued. “...It all happened so fast and there was nothing I could do. I think she’s doomed.”
Abigail let out a long pent-up sigh. She closed her eyes and seemed to take a moment resolving private thoughts. Then she said, “at least we know what she’s been up to. Margaux kicked Boggo—a good friend of Thrush—and he’s exacting vengeance.”
“Boggo,” I mouthed.
“It’s weird, what I’m feeling,” she went on. “I’m ashamed to say that I feel only a little bit sad for Margaux. I mostly feel indifferent. She’s going to lose against Thrush.”
“My high ranking guests saw the whole thing. Thrush came in and crashed through the floor. The gods…Margaux was a pitiful thing. She deserves this. While you may feel sad, I don’t feel an ounce of that.”
“This was her own doing.”
We fell silent for a few moments. I gestured that we resume our walk. Abigail led the way.
“I’m trying, but I just can’t process all of this right now.”
“I apologize for all the news that I bear.”
“Hawkin and I are going to have to deal with visitors. I wouldn’t be surprised if the folk you mentioned couldn’t find us; even if they did, there’s the Mist Hidden barrier. But those fable rank adventurers…There’s nothing I could do to stop them. They will find Hawkin.”
Abigail struggled with the development of things. She couldn’t even form words at some point, and she became even more frustrated. Her pace quickened and she could not stop shaking her head. If Riggvelte hadn’t shown up, we might have broken into a jog.
“Pardon my intrusion,” he said. “We have guests from Sweet Gale. Half of the group call themselves Dream Cutters; the other half, Planes Cutters.”
Abigail and I groaned in tandem.
“Would you like to accompany me?” I asked her.
“I think I’d better,” she said.
Riggvelte turned on a heel and led the way.