Page 94 of Lore of the Tides

“You won’t be anything; you’ll most likely have become griffin food.”

Pytheah winced at the thought. “You’ve made your stance clear, but you won’t be complaining when I come back with three camels loaded with gold.”

“I don’t want gold. I want you to bealive.”

“Can’t have one without the other.”

“This is nonsense.” Joya turned her back on Pytheah and addressed “Zane” and “Fuba.” “Guests, I’ve supplied your rooms, and we’ve even included a few complimentary bottles of soap, creams, and lotions. Please don’t throw the bottles out; they will be cleansed and refilled after you leave.”

Joya turned her back to head upstairs, where a warm bath and a clean, cozy bed were waiting.

Lore winced internally. She couldn’t believe she was about to say this, but...

“Pytheah, would you be interested in guiding a few travelerssafely to the Cascades? That’s where we are headed, in search of griffins, and it seems like fate that we’ve run into such a skilled and knowledgeable adventurer.”

Pytheah stiffened, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

Lore rushed to appease her mind. “We will pay, of course. And we don’t care about gold. You won’t have to worry about us trying to steal any treasure.” Lore pointed to Hazen, who looked absolutely crestfallen that he might not be getting his bath. “This one’s a prince. He’s gotheapsof it.”

Pytheah’s gaze shifted to Hazen, her eyes wide and sparkling. “A prince? I’ve never met one of those. I did meet a demon once disguised as a lamp.” Pytheah twirled a braid around one hand, thinking. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. And it would be nice to have some conversation on the trip. One can never have too many friends. But you all will need supplies.” She eyed their packs, which—if you didn’t count Hazen’s, which was bursting with outfits—were, admittedly, quite flat.

Lore smiled. “Just point us where to go, and we will buy it! And we can stock up your supplies, too, if you’re low on any.”

Pytheah nodded. Lore could see her thoughts racing as she pivoted. Lore imagined she was planning all the things a group that size would need—a group who had never been to the Golden Cascades... and who didn’t know enough about adventuring to have heard of Ayred’s treasure. “I know a guy. His shop is closed by now, but he lives above it, and he’s always at home, and anyway, he owes me a favor.” Pytheah grinned. “I introduced him to his husband.”

“Joya, it looks like we may have to cancel those baths we ordered,” Hazen said, his voice grief stricken.

Chapter 31

The shop owner, an orc with a black-and-gray unkempt beard, chipped tusk, and a permanent scowl etched onto his lichen-hued face, grumbled as he tossed supplies into a sack. “Pytheah, you couldn’t have come at a more convenient hour?”

Lore swallowed a sigh. Pytheah had assured them that the proprietor was indebted to her, but he clearly hadn’t received the message. At least Pytheah was right about one thing: He had everything they needed. Enough food for a week, maybe two, depending on rationing. Lore’s eyes darted to the water skins for the fifth time in the past minute; water was the most crucial item on their list. Beyond the city walls, between them and the Golden Cascades, lay the Demon Wastes, a desert as unforgiving as its name suggested.

Pytheah, a wide grin splitting her face, slapped a reassuring hand on Lore’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I know every watering hole in those wastes like the back of my hand.”

Lore gave her a weak smile as she dug into her purse. Finndryl and Hazen hefted the biggest of the three packs onto their shoulders, and Lore winced as she handed over a hefty sum of coin. The moment the coin was in his hands, the proprietor practically shoved them toward the door, slamming it shut behind them with a resounding crash.

“Well,” Finndryl muttered, his voice laced with wariness, “that was... pleasant.”

Lore shot him a wry look. “Pytheah did say he owed her a favor.” And yet, she could swear he’d charged almost double for everything—there was no way that woolen bedrolls cost a gold pieceeach.

As they made their way out of Jamal’s northern gates, Pytheah’s cheerful demeanor faltered. “Ah, about that favor the shopkeeper owed me... turns out the male I’d introduced him to... may have absconded with his life savings, every last one of his Reddies maps, and his favorite camel.”

Hazen raised an eyebrow at Lore, his expression a silent echo of her own thoughts:This is who we’re entrusting with our lives?

Lore could only shrug, because it was too late; they were already in the desert, Pytheah leading the way with a confidence Lore wished she felt.

A well-maintained road with plenty of Ma Serach patrol safeguarding it stretched out of the city, but Pytheah promptly abandoned it, opting instead for a direct plunge into the Demon Wastes. Lore’s boots slipped on the shifting sands as she followed as close behind Finndryl as possible without treading on his boots. Her human eyes were struggling to adjust to the darkness, and she stumbled more than once, saved each time by Finndryl’s quick hands.

“Fae speed comes in handy, eh?” he said with a chuckle, his voice a comforting presence in the moonless night.

Lore grumbled under her breath; it was so damned dark—she couldn’t imagine why Pytheah had decided to make the first leg of her trek at night. They could be tucked into bed in the world’s most beautiful inn. (Despite Svalja’s insistence that it wasnotthe world’s most beautiful inn. Lore bet the bed was like a cloud. She imagined you lay on it and were swallowed whole until morning, when you would greet the day utterly refreshed... no waking upfrom a sore shoulder or hip, a lumpy piece of hay that refused to flatten no matter how much you shook out the mattress or pressed it down... and she assumed that surely one would not wake up in the middle of the night clutching their heart from a nightmare.) And then they could have left in the morning fed, clean, and well-rested.

But then again, Lore quickly learned that almost nothing Pytheah did made much sense to her.

An eternity later, she was cursing Pytheah in her head for insisting they travel at night, turning her into all kinds of unsavory animals with spells she didn’t actually know, when their guide finally announced it was time to set up camp.

Lore collapsed onto her bedroll, exhaustion pulling her under almost instantly. She slept soundly, oblivious to the rock that somehow found its way beneath her hip during the night.

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