Page 84 of Minor Works of Meda

I put the note on his pillow, then stood a moment in his empty dark room, feeling his absence more keenly than I would have expected. Maybe I liked having a friend after all. Not twenty minutes after I’d returned to my own small, neat chamber, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Oraik standing there, blue mask still on, hands on his hips.

“Where do you think we should eat supper?” he asked before I could get an apology out. “The food here was good, but I passed a dozen other inns that might have private dining rooms as well. On the other hand, my feet ache. So?”

“Oraik, I’m so sorry,” I blurted the moment he paused. “Can you forgive me?”

“Let’s focus on the food,” he said. “We’re here to enjoy Koraica. So, which is it? I vote somewhere new. In fact, yes, let’s definitely go somewhere new. Will you get Kalcedon? I’d rather not be bitten if I wake him up from a nap.”

I hid a smile behind my palm and did as he asked.

Chapter 37

Kalcedon was quiet all through dinner. I would have felt better if he were being mean. The persistent silence felt strange, different. Something was wrong with him.

“I wouldn’t have minded all the shops if they were at least different,” Oraik complained, as he and I carried the conversation by ourselves. “It seemed each one had the same drinks, the same scarves…”

“It was too crowded,” I said.

“There’s nothing wrong with crowds.”

“Of course there is. They’re terrible.”

“Well, it’s going to be crowded,” he drawled, with a smile. “How big do you think a wyrm can get?”

“Bigger than I’d like to encounter. Anyways, the shops probably carry those things because that’s what sells.”

“Eh.” He wrinkled his nose and cut his food into smaller bites. “If I were a shopkeep, I’d carry things nobody else had.”

“Pass the wine?”

As Oraik reached towards the jug, Kalcedon and I simultaneously flinched. I jumped halfway out of my chair, both hands on the table, before blinking and lowering myself back down.

“What?” Oraik asked, gripping the neck of the wine jug and looking nervously between Kalcedon and me. “What’s wrong?”

“Another stone broke,” I said. Kalcedon’s storm gray skin looked pale. He picked up his cup and drank deeply.

“Which one?” the prince wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Kalcedon pointed to one of the walls.

“That way. Only four left.” He leveled a look at Oraik. “First thing in the morning, we leave for Rovileis.” His tone left no room to argue, but I saw Oraik shake his head, just barely.

Kalcedon lapsed back into silence, finishing the meal and walking back to our inn with scarcely five words from his mouth. Even when Oraik bought a hot pepper cake from a street vendor and howled from pain, Kalcedon didn't laugh.

At the inn, I grabbed Kalcedon’s arm as Oraik vanished into his room. The placid mask stared back at me, unnervingly expressionless. We were alone in the narrow hallway of the inn.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Are you alright?”

“What an idiotic question. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

I frowned at him, and drew a deep breath.

“You haven’t been this mean to me in ages.”

“I never wanted to come here,” he said. “But your friend wanted to, so we did. Apparently what he wants is always right.”

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