Page 32 of Sorcery, Swords & Scones
The man walked the tray of pastries around their group, but Thrain was the only one who took a sweet roll. Even Erindil set his pastry down untouched, his rings catching the firelight as his hands fidgeted with the silk tassels of his robes.
"I never planned to return," he admitted, his voice growing quieter. "Why stir up old family wounds for Lira when she seemed content with her life here? But recent events in Lananore have forced my hand."
He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing with obvious reluctance. “We recently celebrated the ascension of a new Lord of Lananore—a position that comes with considerable ceremony and tradition. All members of the family are expected to attend, regardless of how far they might have wandered or how long they'd been away."
Korl's frown deepened as a growl rumbled in his chest. "What does that have to do with Lira? The elves didn’t expect her to attend, did they?”
Erindil's shoulders sagged, and he looked suddenly smaller. "Because Lira's grandfather is the new Lord of Lananore. I canthink of very few reasons her father—my brother—would miss such an important family occasion."
Sass tried to make sense of what the elf had said. She knew little of elf customs, but she knew they held their ceremonies in high regard and their royalty in even higher esteem.
“I still don’t understand how this connects to Lira,” Sass said, glancing at her friends in case they understood something she didn’t. “As far as I know, she’s never laid eyes on her father.”
Erindil nodded. “She might not know him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know her. Or that he hasn’t kept track of her. I came here to find out if Lira’s father also visited Wayside and to see if I could track him from here.”
Korl fisted his hands at his side. “And what did you learn?”
Erindil reached for his goblet with shaky hands. “He has been to Wayside—many times. But so far, I have not discovered where he went when he last left. I fear something might have befallen him.”
Korl’s scowl summed up how Sass felt. She thought of Lira learning not only that she had family she'd never known about, but that the father she’d never known was missing. The part of Sass that loved Lira fiercely and wanted to protect her from any more pain wished desperately that they’d stumbled upon a camp of warring dwarves instead.
Twenty-Three
Sass pushedthrough the swinging doors into the kitchen, as Lira yanked another baking sheet from the oven with more force than wasnecessary. The metal clanged against the counter as she set it down with obvious irritation.
They had told her about Erindil as soon as they'd returned from the forest, expecting perhaps excitement or curiosity about this mysterious uncle who had been watching over her from afar. Instead, Lira's reaction had been anything but pleased.
“Is this still about your uncle?” Sass asked as she glanced at Crumpet, who was not taking Lira’s agitation in stride. The flutterstoat darted frantically from the copper pots hanging overhead to his perch on the windowsill, then back to the worktable.
"I don't have time for some long-lost uncle,” Lira muttered, using her hands to toss the golden crescents from the baking sheet to a serving tray. "The Harvest Festival is in two days, I've got a tavern full of hungry customers, there might be a band of dwarves closing in on you, and now I'm supposed to drop everything because some uncle I've never met pops out of the woods? And even worse, that a father I’ve never met is missing?”
Sass dodged around her friend's agitated movements, nudging the hand pies into place on the tray. "Everything will be fine, Lira. You've been working on your recipe for the festival, and that’s well in hand. There’s no sign of dwarves, as of yet. And I know you don’t want to hear about him, but Erindil seems nice enough. There are certainly worse uncles to have."
Despite her obvious frustration, Lira glanced up with a raised eyebrow. "Worse how?"
Sass couldn't help but snort out a laugh at the memory that surfaced. "One of my uncles lost an eye wrestling an ice badger when he was drunk on fermented mountain ale. He kept his own eyeball in a jar of spirits by his bed and used to take it out during family dinners to show us young ones. Said it was a 'teaching moment’.”
“Did it teach you not to drink?”
“Of course not, but it taught us not to wrestle ice badgers.”
Lira’s mouth twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. But the moment passed quickly, and she returned to aggressively stirring the meat filling that simmered on the stove. "I'd take Uncle GlassEye over one who hides in the woods watching me like some kind of woodland stalker.”
Sass leaned in to inhale the savory steam rising from the savory pies. Thank goodness Lira’s mood hadn’t affected her baking. “I’ll take these out to the dining room," Sass said, recognizing that her friend needed space to work through her feelings and she didn’t want to be in the line of fire when Lira started waving her spoon and meat filling started flying.
She pushed through the swinging doors and into the great room, pausing for a beat to take in the bustling scene that was such a change from the first night her feet had darkened the threshold. Conversation was a merry hum, interspersed with the thunking of mugs and the scraping of chairs. Vaskel stood at his post behind the bar, pulling pints and flashing wicked grins to the ladies gatheredaround.
Sass made her way to the chairs by the fire where Korl and Val sat, turning sideways to squeeze through a group of farmers at one table and a band of ogre mercenaries crowding the other.
"Hand pies, fresh from the oven," Sass announced, offering the tray to her friends.
Val looked up from her knitting. “So Lira calmed down?”
Korl grunted and plucked a golden-brown crescent from the tray. “Just because she’s baking doesn’t mean she’s calm.”
The orc knew his fiancée well. Although Lira baked to calm herself, it didn’t always work. At least not right away.
“Is that why you’re out here and not in there?” Val teased him.
