“He said what?” Chestnut shrieked, her wings fluttering madly. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” John replied, his eyes looking blankly at the fire. The journey there and back with little sleep and a quick dodge of the bridge troll had left him exhausted in every way imaginable. He raised his eyes, the effort ticking at the back of his head, and looked at Chestnut.
She frowned at him.
“So, what now John? Barti can’t send any more travelers here, not when rumors are already running wild.”
“Well, Chess, I’ll be honest with you. That’s a relief.” The halfling had suffered for too long at the hands of the newcomers, his family’s simple possessions scattering on the wind to end up...where? In a ditch somewhere? There was no value but sentimental attachment -- and unless some witch wanted to craft a potion out of children’s toys and beloved pictures of his great great great grandma, he couldn’t think what sort of gold the items would fetch.
“I...looked through some of the half-orcs’ belongings.” Chess drifted closer, the barest brush of wind on the halflings cheek the only indication she had moved. He raised a brow in her direction -- a dash of curiosity finally coloring his face with something other than fatigue.
“I didn’t want to bring it up until you got back from the Grand Master,” she continued, this time darting towards a wicker basket that lay by the fireplace. John squinted. Of all the places she could’ve put it, why by the fire?
“What is it?”
“Well…” Her hands waved in the air with practiced ease, an invisible hand pulling aside the cloth that covered the hamper’s contents and...giving John an uneasy smile. “I already checked, there’s still a pulse. And the egg is fresh -- whatever those half-orcs were doing, it wasn’t to see the Grand Master.”
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John stared for long moments. The pearly surface of the egg was flawless, reflecting the gentle light of the fire in golds and greens and pinks. An egg?
What was he going to do with an egg?
His mind couldn’t work through the fog of that question, so instead, he focused on the other valuables that were stacked near the basket. Chess followed his gaze, wings fluttering in annoyance as he dodged the elephant in the room.
“What else is there?”
“Traveler’s loot, commonplace stuff. Plenty of gold -- which makes me wonder if maybe they were working a commission...and some other unsavory magical things.”
“Like?”
“A witch’s orb? I’ve never come across one myself, but they are nasty, John -- best to chuck it in the nearest river.”
“What does it do?”
The fae landed on the table and crossed her arm, wings coming to a complete standstill. John raised a brow. This was the closest he’d ever seen her to serious.
“John, don’t ask that question. I don’t like where your mind has been going lately.”
“It hasn’t been going anywhere, Chess.” He replied quickly, leaning closer to his companion and commencing a stare-off. Chess’s pitch-black eyes narrowed, the glint in them picking up that wickedness that fae are most known for. The halfling was well aware that he played with fire when he challenged her, but the question was worth the consequence.
“A witch’s orb -- if you must know -- is particularly good at channeling dark magic, warding off demons, turning men into pigs, replacing sugar with salt in a baked cake -- you know, evil things… John, what are you thinking?”
The halfling didn’t answer as he rose from the table and retreated to the hallway, ghosting through the ever-winding tunnels of his ancestral home and taking comfort as the tunnels got shorter and shorter and shorter -- better fitting his own height. He pushed through a door that even he had to duck through, and closed it -- leaving Chess in the company of a strange egg and her curiosity.