“If one is looking for a decent interaction with a brownie, they may as well be looking for that mythical pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Brownies are not decent creatures, and we should not expect their dealings to have any twang of compassion. My best advice to the Reader: as soon as you realize a brownie is after you, run. Oh, and carry some cinnamon–they hate it.”

–Guidebook to Gregar, page 334

Having had slept through breakfast, Orer decided to seek out Gram and see if he could get a much-needed escape from the family estate. He wanted to spill the beans to Gram about the whole basement fiasco, but he felt as though he owed Kena some sort of heads-up that he was backing out on their deal. He would hold his tongue on that matter, for now.

“Gram,” he said when he found her in the old study. “I was thinking about heading into town for a bit. Anything I can get you?”

She looked up from the paper she was reading. “Actually, yes there are a few things I need. We’re hosting a dinner in a few nights; if you could take this list and get what groceries you can on it, that would be nice.”

He took the note from her and looked at the list. “Alright. Are you going to need help cooking any of this?”

It seemed like quite a lot of food for one person to manage. But Gram just smiled. “The staff I employ had this week off, since I knew you and Kena would be coming. Most of them will be back either tonight or tomorrow morning. We won’t have to worry about making it ourselves. Although, if you could be awake to assist with the setup on Saturday morning, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Of course, Gram,” he replied, and took off.

Town was about twenty minutes away, and although the local grocery store was small, Orer found everything Gram needed. He was impressed. Perhaps these small towns could carry their own weight, after all.

The lady at the checkout didn’t look like someone he had met before, not that Orer expected to know her. But as he was loading his groceries into the car (a nice new SUV–Gram apparently had four or five cars at her disposal), he heard a familiar voice.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Orer looked over his shoulder to see the newspaper lady coming towards him. She was dressed in sunglasses and a feathered purple hat.

“Hello,” he said, pulling the last bag out of his cart. “Good to see you again.”

“And good to see you!” she exclaimed, coming closer. “But I see you are quite busy. Getting ready for that dinner on Saturday, I presume?”

“Um, yes, I am,” he replied. He should have known that if there was going to be a dinner, it would have guests from town. “Sorry, remind me your name?”

She crossed her gloved left hand daintly over her right one, holding a matching purple purse in front of her. “Why, I am Mrs. Fanicha Tasgi, dear boy. I thought you recognized me on the train.”

Tasgi. The name was ringing a bell to something vague that Orer thought he should know.

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Tasgi,” he said with a nod. It seemed like the proper acknowledgement, what with the way she looked as though she were about to curtsy.

And then it hit him. Tasgi. The name had been listed in that guidebook. She was from one of the “grand human estates” the book described, just like the Raidworths.

“Well, I remember when you were just a boy and taking your bicycle around everywhere. I do hope we won’t be seeing any of those crazy tricks of yours this time around?”

Orer couldn’t help a genuine smile at the comment. While he didn’t remember this woman from his childhood, she clearly knew him. Doing wheelies on a bike had been Orer’s favorite pastime growing up, and he even managed to sneak out to a skate park with some friends throughout his middle school and high school years without ever getting caught. His parents would have never approved, had they found out. They were a family concerned with keeping up the Janesh image, which was part of the reason his mom never divorced his dad. It would have looked too bad.

“Not at all, Mrs. Tasgi. I haven’t ridden a bike in years.”

“Ah, well, it probably wouldn’t be the safest even if you did manage to keep both wheels on the ground and two hands on the bar. These parts have gotten worse since you last were here. I would say that a car is the only secure method of transportation these days.”

It was an elusive comment. Orer wanted to ask what she meant by it, but Mrs. Tasgi decided that ending the conversation at this point was the proper thing to do.

“Anyhoo, take care! I shall see you at the dinner.” With that, she slipped her purse back over her shoulder and turned to go into the store.

“Take care,” Orer called back, bringing the cart over to its place near the sliding doors. He shook his head. Things were getting stranger by the day, it seemed.

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When he got back to the house, Gram was no longer in the study. That was fine. He would just start unloading the groceries and bringing them to the kitchen instead.

When he brought the first four bags down the hallway, however, he found Gram waiting in the dining room.

“Orer,” she said, taking a sip from her cup. “Stay and have some afternoon tea with me after you’ve brought in all the groceries. I think it would be best for us to begin working on that project today.”

“Sure thing, Gram,” he said as he began emptying the bags’ contents onto the kitchen counter.

“There’s a walk-in fridge just around the corner, too,” she called to him.

Oh, that would be much better. The kitchen fridge, from what he remembered during his snack the day before, was already pretty full. Man, why was he so surprised Gram had a walk-in fridge? He shook his head. These days, he shouldn’t be surprised by anything their family owned.

“Got it!” he replied and began bringing the groceries over to the metal door that seemed to fit the bill. Sure enough, a cold blast hit him when he opened it. There was more than enough room to fit all the groceries in here.

Orer finished unloading before coming to sit next to Gram.

“It’s a nice day to sit on the patio,” Gram said. “Why don’t we bring the teapot out there and sit for a bit.”

“Alright,” he replied. He helped her carry the pot and cups out on a platter, feeling a bit like a busboy. Once the dishes were situated safely on the table, Gram poured both of them a cup before slipping an embroidered cozy over the pot.

“I always have enjoyed tea at this time of day. Hot or cold, it’s very refreshing.”

Orer couldn’t tell if she was keeping the conversation superficial because she was holding back or simply taking a walk down memory lane.

“I’m not much of a tea drinker,” he admitted, before taking a sip. It was strong, and tasted smoky. Not what he expected from a pot covered in painted blue flowers, to be sure.

“My personal mix,” Gram explained when she saw his expression of surprise. “The leaves are smoke-dried, hence the flavor.”

“Ah,” Orer said, as if he knew anything about tea and how it was made. “I take back what I just said. I like it.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling. He would have to tell Kena that he caught a few lines on Gram’s face. “I’m glad.”

They both looked out to the yard, with Gram leaning back contentedly and sipping her tea. For his part, Orer was doing his best to relax. With the line of trees directly in front of him, it was difficult to refrain from scanning everything with his eyes.

“What do you think of Gregar?” Gram suddenly asked. It was as if she sensed his angst.

“It’s, well, er, very nice.” The words twisted on themselves, hitching on a lie. “A calm getaway from the city.”

“You can be honest with me, Orer,” she said, turning her gaze back onto him. Her bright eyes seemed to pierce him.

He opened his mouth like a fish out of water and was about to let everything spill, but Kena decided to make her usual grand entrance right then. The patio door opened with a bang and then slammed shut as she walked over.

“Mind if I join?”

Orer didn’t bother to look at her. Maybe he had inherited Gram’s theatrical skills; either way, now was the time to test them. He was going to stand his ground if Kena tried chewing him out for something he hadn’t (yet) done.

“Certainly not,” Gram snapped, tone flipping. “There’s more teacups and saucers in the cabinet. Go get one.”

The edge in both their voices almost–almost–made Orer get up to leave, but he realized he wanted in on whatever this was, too, and he wasn’t going to be in if he ditched.

Kena came back out with a teacup and no saucer. Gram didn’t say anything, opting instead to eye the lone cup as Kena poured some tea into it. Orer decided to go back to staring at the trees.

“Well, Kena, I hope you’ve been having an eventful couple of days,” Gram told her, although it almost sounded like she meant to say I know you’ve been having an eventful couple of days. To keep from gulping, Orer plastered on what he hoped was a smooth side-smile.

Kena’s head shot up. Even without looking at her, Orer knew she was glaring at him. He was just going to let her believe that he’d gone to Gram about the basement. If he stoked the fire right, some of his questions might finally be answered.

“Yeah, Gram, it’s been great,” Kena said flatly.

“Where is my key to the oak door, Kena?” Gram asked.

The smile Orer had been stretching froze on his face. His eyebrows furrowed. Key? What key?

“Ask Orer.”

Orer looked at Gram. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

Gram spared him only a glance. “Kena, I gave you clear instructions about that safe box. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t ship you back to your father tomorrow.”

This time Orer did look at Kena. She rolled her eyes. “Because you need me?”

“Did you unlock that door?”

Kena shrugged and began to drink her tea.

The elder Raidsworth raised an eyebrow. “And did you lock it again after you went snooping around?”

“Yes!” Kena exclaimed. Gram’s eyebrow went higher, and her grandaughter gave in: “Well, a couple of hours later.”

The small shake of her head was enough to reveal Gram’s disdain. “Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. There are things down there, things that would give you nightmares. And I wouldn’t enjoy the explanation to your parents on how you went missing, my dear.”

Orer was finally putting two and two together.

“There was a key to the basement?” he asked, horrified. “And you left it unlocked for hours?”

“Oh chill,” Kena said. “I got back to it eventually.”

Orer had only been able to calm himself down the night before because he had convinced himself that whatever it was he saw wanted to stay down there. Now there was the possibility that it had been trapped. Until Kena left the door unlocked, that was.

“You two are not to go down there again,” Gram cut in. “Am I clear?”

“Yes,” Kena said at the same time Orer managed an “Of course.”

All three went back to drinking their tea, quietly thinking on different matters. For his part, Orer was thinking about all of the possible scenarios that could have played out in those intervening hours the door had been unlocked. In his head, none of them seemed good.