Page 6 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
Even if it meant going up against a wyvern.
Determination hardened within Lira as she paused at the bottom of the steps and the light from the stone faded. She’d had setbacks before, and she’d always overcome them. This was no different.
Lira was surrounded by darkness once more, her steady breath her only company. She tucked the stone away and groped for the handrail so she could leave the tavern as quietly as she’d entered and devise a new plan, a better plan.
Then she heard a crash from above.
Three
Lira stiffened,her entire body tingling as she stood in the dark at the bottom of the stairs. How had the tavernkeeper heard her? She’d been just as stealthy as she was on missions, and she’d never been caught before. Was she losing her touch?
She shook her head roughly, casting off that thought, unwilling to admit that she wasn’t the same rogue she’d been before going into the cursed castle. She might have lost a bit of her confidence, but she hadn’t lost her skills.
Hovering with her foot over the first step and her hand gripping the stair rail, she squeezed the rough wood and gingerly set down the tip of her boot. Being at the bottom of the cellar steps was thelast place she wanted to be found, because it was the last place she’d wanted to be trapped. She didn’t know the tavernkeeper well, but she couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t react badly to finding a thief in his establishment. Not that Lira had ever considered herself a common thief, but she doubted many would appreciate the difference between a rogue skilled in stealth and a basic burglar.
As she held her breath and expected to see a figure appear at the top of the steps, the rustling continued overhead. Strangely, the sounds weren’t coming closer, which meant that the owner might not have heard her. It was entirely possible that he’d come downstairs to check the locks or have a drink.
Lira released a slow breath, glad that she’d pulled the tavern’s back door closed behind her when she’d entered. There would be no trace that she’d broken in. Then she glimpsed the sliver of faint light peeking through the crack in the cellar door.
Orc’s blood! She’d leftthatdoor open. She hoped the tavernkeeper was as careless about shutting doors as he was about cleaning his tavern and would assume he’d left it cracked.
She crept up a few more steps, grateful that the stairs miraculously didn’t creak, and when she’d almost reached the top she strained her ears. The shuffling sounds were soft, not what she’d expect from such a burly man. Maybe she wasn’t hearing the tavernkeeper. Maybe what she was hearing were very assertive rats coming out at night to have free rein of the place.
This thought sent a shiver down her spine. She might have preferred encountering the surly Durn over a company of vermin.
Lira placed her foot on the top step, going rigid as the wood beneath let out a groan. The sounds upstairs stopped instantly, and she held her breath and focused every ounce of self-control on remaining motionless.
A darkly muttered word was muffled behind the cellar door, but then the noises returned. Noises that Lira was sure didn’t belong to the owner. For one, they were too quiet, and for another, they were furtive. Was she not the only one trying to rob The Tusk & Tail?
She slipped a dagger from her waist and held it in one hand as she silently opened the cellar door a fraction more so that she could peek out. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so even without the benefit of her illumination stone, she could make out shapes in the shadows.
Someone was behind the bar, hunched over. Now Lira was sure that it wasn’t the tavernkeeper by the size of the figure and the desperate movements. She eased into the great room, her footsteps quiet as she moved toward the back door.
Now that she’d determined she couldn’t get what she’d come for—not yet, at least—Lira had no intention of getting caught and little interest in the other robbery in progress. She sidled to one side, her gaze locked on the creature wrestling with something that would not yield, even as she moved farther away.
“Grognick’s beard!” the creature muttered, with a huff of exasperation.
Lira sucked in a startled breath when she realized the voice was female—and if she wasn’t mistaken—dwarven.
The dwarf spun on her heels at the sound, and Lira cursed herself for her slip. So much for escaping without notice.
“Who are you?” The female dwarf had produced a dagger with impressive speed and even in the dim lighting, the blade bared silver teeth.
Lira’s own weapon remained in one hand, but she didn’t raise it. “No one of importance to you.”
The dwarf tossed her dark braid over her shoulder and emitted a half-snort. “It’s important to me if you’re poaching my mark.”
Lira glanced over the female’s shoulder to the wooden box on the floor, the lock dangling and the lid crooked. “I have no interest in the till.”
The dwarf’s eyes narrowed in obvious disbelief. She had a point. Why would Lira have broken in if she wasn’t after the coin? But then her gaze slid to the back door, which was still shut. “How did you get in?”
“How did you?” Liraasked.
A low growl burbled in the dwarf’s throat. “I never left.”
Lira remembered seeing the dwarf at one of the sparsely populated tables earlier in the night. So she’d actually hidden after the tavern closed and waited for Durn to retire for the night? Not a bad plan, and if Lira was being honest, a part of her wished she’d thought of it. But then she would have missed out on picking a lock, and that was one of her favorite parts of the job.
She cut her eyes to the dwarf and held up her hands, flipping the blade around so that it didn’t show. “I’m just passing through, so how about I leave and let you get back to your work?”
