Breakfast was a simple bowl of cooked oats topped with simmered apples and a drizzle of honey. After months on the road, it was the best meal Daana had eaten in recent memory. Sure, the simple fare may have paled in comparison to the celebratory feasts back at Sunstorn, but Daana did her utmost to forget those parts of her past. Amidst the constant reorganization of memories–shoving this here, cramming this there, pretending that one solstice eve tumble down the stairs never happened–her table manners somehow got lost in the shuffle. Daana’s once prim, poised posture was gone. Her former self would have balked at the disheveled elf woman parading in her place, wearing scrappy, ill-fitted clothing, hunched over a table, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of oats into her mouth as quickly as it would go down.
To be fair, Daana’s former self would not be the only one to gawk. In fact, a good number of the other patrons seated around the assortment of tables were doing their best not to openly stare. Part of that could have been Snag’s fault as well. Not that he was doing anything to garner attention, of course. People leered at him regardless.
Daana put down the spoon and took a long draught of water. Even that tasted better than it ever had before. Which failed to explain why her breakfast companion wasn’t partaking in any of it. “You know it’s not poisoned, right?”
“You hope,” Snag replied.
Daana shoveled down another spoonful of sweet oats as she considered something smart to say. “Nah, you wouldn’t let me eat it if it was.”
Ordinarily he would have said something quippy in return, but Snag appeared too preoccupied with checking his peripherals to bother. The pair were seated in the bustling meal hall at a table shoved all the way in the corner. Snag was across from Daana with his back to the wall, watching the morning’s breakfast patrons come and go with his jagged mouth held in an uneasy grimace. Although the goblin clutched his spoon as if it were a weapon, his bowl of oats remained untouched.
The night before, after the bizarre introduction to her mother, Daana had gone back outside of the walls to fetch her belongings. What had started as a pathetic attempt to say goodbye to Snag turned into her begging him to stay at least one night. After many tears–hers, not his–he acquiesced, ultimately insisting it was because he wished to replenish his supplies and not because Daana was making an idiot of herself.
She almost felt bad for inviting him inside now. Almost. The steady supply of food was doing wonders to keep the unpleasant feelings at bay. Daana lifted her bowl of oats and tilted her head towards the double doors behind her. “I can take this outside if you want. Bring yours too. Even if you’re not going to eat it.”
No sense in letting good food go to waste, after all.
A flood of stark light swept across the inside of the great hall as the doors opened with a creaking wail behind her. While the hall didn’t fall deathly quiet, the volume certainly dropped in a noticeable way. Curious, Daana twisted around on the bench to get a glimpse of what was taking place. The disturbance was Ashwyn, whose height made her stick out amongst the hungry crowd like a shark fin across water. Despite the bustling crowd, Ashwyn was across the room in no time at all. Probably helped the way the other patrons practically leapt to the side to avoid crossing her path.
The shared bench wobbled under the orc’s weight when she dropped down next to Daana. From there she just sort of melted, like candle wax on a hot day, and spread out across the top of the table.
“You look awful,” Daana said around another mouthful of honey-drizzled oats.
Normally this would have provoked some sort of response out of the orc–a laugh, a quip, a hearty punch. Ashwyn said nothing, choosing to remain a sad, melted puddle of an orc instead.
Daana and Snag traded worried glances. His pinched brow warned her not to say another word. “This is a job for El,” he said, hurriedly glancing about, as if expecting the elf in question to materialize out of the shadows at any moment. “Where is she?”
Ashwyn’s hollow voice was but a ghost of its normal might. “Gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” Snag’s long ear shot into the air. “Gone where? Like to bed? The tavern? She’s not already in jail again, is she?”
“We…uh…” Ashwyn’s hand clenched into a fist, her knuckles draining of all color. “She left.”
“Without you?” Daana prompted.
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck!” Snag stood, shoving away from his seat as he threw the spoon across the table with a clatter, uncaring that the occupants seated closest to them were scooting further away. “That’s it? She just up and left? Without even bothering to say goodbye or tell me where she was headed?”
“We fought, Snag. It was ugly.”
“Well she’s coming back, right? I mean this is what she does, innit? You two fight, she burns something to the ground, gets blistering drunk, and then comes crawling back the second she’s sobered up again?”
The sound that squeaked out of Ashwyn’s mouth had more in common with a whimper than a sigh. “Not this time, mate.”
Daana placed her open hand over Ashwyn’s. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Daana didn’t know what else to say. As fate would have it, it wasn’t necessary to say anything. The double doors opened behind them once more. This time, the doors stayed open, flooding the room with sunlight spilling in from the outside. Blinking the sunspots from her eyes, Daana glanced over her shoulder and watched as the faun from the previous night left his entourage at the entrance and approached, hooves clacking against the hardwood flooring with a resounding clack clack. Havershire halted just short of their table, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and looking rather annoyed at having to see their faces again so soon.
“The sage superior will see you now.” His hardened gaze swept from Daana to Ashwyn. “Both of you.”
Daana glanced over at Snag, who had not only sat back down, but appeared to be attempting to camouflage with the wall. Daana bit back her tongue, realizing drawing attention to him would likely result in him trying to slip under the table itself.
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Alas, she was not the only one to notice. The aged faun peered at Snag over the top of his rounded spectacles with sudden, careful interest. “You’re the goblin.”
A cold look flitted across Snag’s gnarled face. “What gave it away?”
“You are one of General Dawnsight’s trusted four, yes?”
“Who?” Snag adopted his best look of innocence, this maneuver included blinking his eyes and tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Oh, no. Not me, sir. I’m but a humble gobby guide. I’m just here to collect my payment for delivering these two safe and sound.”
It took great effort for Daana not to roll her eyes as Snag extended his open palm in her direction. She considered putting her spoon in his outstretched hand as she certainly didn’t have any other means to pay him.
Unfortunately for Snag, Havershire was not an idiot.
“We have been expecting a message from your commanding officer for some time now. Come.” The faun whirled around, his red robe billowing dramatically in his wake as he strode back the way he had come, calling over his shoulder, “You may explain to the sage superior in person why you are so late.”
“But I–” Snag’s protest petered out when he noticed the entourage of soldiers waiting for them by the doorway. With a muffled whimper, he stood and followed after, casting nervous glances from left to right, searching for the nearest escape route undoubtedly.
Daana meant to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but all that did was make him jump a foot into the air. She quickly withdrew her hand. “Sorry.”
“Don’t do that! You’re liable to lose a hand that way.”
Ashwyn leaned closer, murmuring at a volume the others would be hard pressed to overhear. “You alright, mate?”
“I don’t have a bloody message,” he hissed. “Your sister never involved me in any of the resistance stuff. I mean, I knew about it, she knew I knew about it, but we both just pretended I didn’t.”
“You want me to cause a distraction so you can hightail it out here?” Ashwyn tried to smile but it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it.
“And go where? Ellisar and I were supposed to travel back to the coast together.” Snag walked between them, wringing his gnarled hands as he considered his options. “Should have run when I had the chance.”
Daana didn’t necessarily have any sway with her mother, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to explain the situation on Snag’s behalf. “Do you want me to say something to her?”
“Daana, I mean this in the very best way, but dear gods, girl, no. Just let me handle how I see fit, ‘kay?”
“I’m not that bad at negotiating.”
“Regardless, I think it’s safe to assume the person with a giant army outside her walls is going to be infinitely better at it.”
With Havershire in the lead, and the soldiers flanking in what reminded Daana of the v-formation used by migratory birds, the trio were paraded down several bustling dirt streets. She tried to keep track of the twists and turns, but with so many new sights, smells, and sounds, she was soon too overwhelmed with taking it all in to remember if their last turn had been a right or a left. From Snag’s worsening posture, he likely already had a mental map of the main streetways down.
At last, their travels brought them to a clay building that looked suspiciously like all of the others around it. They were herded down a short flight of stone steps and into the low set doorway of the basement apartment below. It was an open room with various tables overflowing with books, scrolls and loose parchment. The few half windows scattered across the walls were closed with their thick curtains drawn shut, cutting out all natural light from the outside. Half-burnt candles littered the room, their melted wax spilling over the sides of their copper holders and leaving hardened deposits on the tabletops and floors.
Larkspur was bent over a table at the center of the stuffy room, trading low, heated words with an elf in red and gold embroidered robe. She finished her conversation before straightening her posture and approaching her guests, meticulously placing one slender boot in front of the other as her dark eyes swept from one to the next. Her attire was the same as the night before. Ridiculous boots included. Daana only noticed this because the buckles rattled slightly with each purposeful step.
Larkspur’s gaze settled on Snag with the weight of an anvil. “Ashwyn, was it necessary to bring your stable hand?”
“Ha!” A nervous laugh erupted from Snag’s mouth. He spun around and marched towards the doorway. “Daana, Ashwyn, it’s been a pleasure. If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go saddle a horse.”
Havershire stepped swiftly into Snag’s path, barring him from the exit. The wizened faun gazed over the top of him at Larkspur. “Sage superior, this is one of General Dawnsight’s trusted four.”
“The goblin?” Larkspur’s dark brows knitted together. After a moment of thought, she dismissed her confusion with a wave of her hand. “Of course she sent the goblin. He was the only one familiar with the territory.”
“Who, by the way, loves being referred to as ‘the goblin’ and not his actual name,” Snag muttered under his breath.
“My apologies Mister…” Larkspur’s words trailed as she realized her error. She searched the faun’s face, probing the answer to a question she dared not ask out loud.
Daana nearly bit her own tongue to keep from speaking on Snag’s behalf.
“Snuglebum Flint,” Havershire answered with a remarkably straight-face. The same could not be said for the guards standing alongside the entryway who buried their faces into their sleeves to muffle their snickers.
“What? No! That’s not…” Snag stopped trying to sidle around the red-robed faun and ran a clawed hand down his forehead, muttering, “I’m going to strangle that boy the next time I see him. Damn maggot calls me that one time and it’s all anybody remembers.”
Larkspur cut back in. “My apologies, Mister Flint. You must under–”
“Not to worry, Miss Daana’s mum. No need for introductions. I was just on my way out.” Alas, each time Snag nearly reached the door, the stubborn faun stepped in front of him once more. It was a very bizarre game that neither looked to be winning. Nor enjoying, for that matter.
The same could be said for Larkspur, whose stare hardened at the embarrassing display. “Mister Flint, you are late. And I do not like to be kept waiting. What news do you have from Oralia? Tell me she is on her way.”
“How the fuck would I know?” Snag gestured to Ashwyn with an overdramatic sweep of his arm. “I just spent the last month springing this one from a dungeon. And if that wasn’t hard enough, I then got roped in making sure they got delivered safely to your doorstep. Which, you’re welcome for, by the way. Considering one of ‘ems your long lost daughter.”
Larkspur studied his outstretched hand as her sharp features contorted from anger to confusion. “What is he doing?”
Daana looked to the ceiling above, stifling her reflexive groan. “He wants you to pay him.”
“How bold.”
“Worth a try.” Snag said with a shrug, returning his hand to his side. “Anyway, I don’t have a message from Oralia. She was in Adderwood last I saw her. I’d tell you to start there, but she doesn’t stay in one place for long these days. So…good luck with your search then?”
The room went still as all eyes swept to Larkspur. Daana swore it suddenly felt ten degrees cooler. An inexplicable shiver shot up her spine. The seconds slowly ticked past until, at last, the unthinkable happened. A smile pulled across the sage superior’s mouth. “Mister Flint, you appear to be in a hurry to leave. I hope that isn’t my doing.”
Snag, wisely, said nothing at all. Still didn’t stop him from eyeballing the door with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, though.
“You went through all of this trouble to reunite me with my daughter,” Larkspur continued. “Please, allow me to show you the hospitality you deserve. I believe a seat at my table is in order.”
“I, uh, don’t want that.”
“You seem to be under the misconception that I’m giving you a choice.”