Page 46 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“What she lacks for in imagination, she makes up for in heart,” Minerva said, not unkindly.
“And I’m a strong dwarven blacksmith by the name of Baerwyn Gearheart,” Caer added. “Totally different person.”
“Ohfine,” Fort insisted, throwing up her hands. “You have been standing hidden on the shore, debating your next move, when two half-fae siblings show up. One is a warrior, the other a magician and a scholar. You combine forces to reach your prize. Caer—explain the rules to them.”
She threw a handful of spare cards in their direction.
Caer scooted closer, stopping a little distance away. He explained the rules as the others squabbled over their next move and rolled strange, many-sided dice and complained that the ground was too bumpy. Aislinn was familiar with card games—her father had been playing with her since she was old enough to read the numbers—but this was something else entirely.
“I’m going to be honest,” Caerwyn said, “sometimes I think they’re making up the rules as they go. The whole thing seems ridiculously overcomplicated, but it is rather good fun when you get into it.”
“All right!” said Minerva forcefully. “Bell is using the Bagpipes of Invisibility to confuse the ogre. Diana’s using the Catnip Grenade on the Sphinx. Sea-monster is distracted by Luna using the Clip-on-Wings and Magna’s Ladle of Doom, and I’m paddling across the lake on my Inflatable Shield. Are we in agreement?”
An affirmative murmur followed, after which there was much dice rolling, cheering, laughing, and crying.
Things continued in this vein for another two hours at least, at which point Luna had fallen asleep on Caerwyn’s lap, Magna beside her, and half of the rest of the party looked asleep in their seats.
One-by-one, the rest of the dwarves rolled off to bed. Caerwyn tucked Luna and Magna in himself, the others helping with removing their boots. He patted Luna’s head as he pulled her cloak around her, lingering slightly on her soft, moonshine hair. He wasn’t wearing his gloves. It had been too hot beside the fire.
“They do tend to sleep a lot, don’t they?” Aislinn remarked, watching them as they dozed.
“Did you know,” Beau started, “that the average dwarf sleeps ten to twelve hours, the average human eight, and although fae tend to mimic human sleep patterns, they can survive on as little as four with few ill-effects in the medium-to-long term?”
“No one likes a scholar, Beau.”
“Interesting,” said Caer, stroking a finger under his chin, “how many hours of sleep do you need?”
“Who, Ais? She needs her full eight or she turns into a grouchy monster. Haven’t you noticed how short tempered she’s becoming?”
Aislinn threw her flask at Beau’s head. It connected with a sharp thunk.
“I probably deserved that,” he said, massaging his temple. “Goodnight, I suppose.”
He rolled over without another word. Aislinn started to pull off her extra layers herself, although she didn’t feel tired. Contrary to Beau’s assertion, she did not need as much sleep as a dwarf or even a mortal.
Caer pulled off his boots and thumbed his beads, his expression glassy beneath the starlight.
“Those beads,” Aislinn asked. “Did you make them yourself?”
Caer nodded.
“What do they stand for?”
“For everyone I care for,” he explained, counting them out. “One for each of the dwarves. One for my mother, and…” His hands stilled on the ninth. Aislinn had noticed before that they all had tiny symbols etched into them. This one, unless she was mistaken, held a tiny crown.
Owen.
“I’m not sure I want to ask,” she said, “but the other one…”
Lower down, half-hidden by his shirt, was another string of pure black beads.
Caerwyn paused, fingers skimming over them. “The lives I’ve ended,” he said. “I felt… I thought I better honour them, too. I’ll have to add another one now, for Dafydd.”
“Dafydd?”
“The soldier I killed when…”
“Right,” she said.When you saved me.
