Page 48 of Sorcery, Swords & Scones
Then Val straightened and snapped her heels together. “I promise to keep it completely professional. No one will suspect a thing.”
Sass wasn’t sure if either of them could manage that, but it would have to do. Val pivoted so she could fall in step with Sass as they headed away from the tavern, throwing waves to Rosie.
The gnome sat on the back step of the brandy wagon, polishing a red apple to a high shine with the corner of her apron and giving no indication that she’d witnessed anything. She waved back cheerfully, apparently unbothered by the early hour or the loud snores coming from inside the wagon. "Mind how you go, girls.”
As they walked through the village, Sass thought about how different Wayside looked in the aftermath of the Harvest Festival. The orange and gold pennant streamers that had draped between the storefronts still hung across the main road, but they were now sagging and gap-toothed.
Apple cores and scraps of paper littered the dirt road along with the odd lost hair ribbon or dropped coin. It wasn't messy so much as well-used, like the tavern after a busy night.
Fenni was already at work in front of his cheese shop, vigorously sweeping the walk with a bristle broom. Despite the early hour and the late end to the festival, his hair was primly combed to one side, and the apron tied around his tweed three-piece suit was spotless.
"Morning, ladies!" he called out cheerfully as they passed, pausing in his sweeping to lean on his broom handle. "There's nothing like fresh air and exercise to clear the head after a proper celebration."
"I couldn’t agree with you more,” Val said.
It took all of Sass's self-control not to wander toward Pip's bakery as they passed, and she tipped her nose into the air in anticipation of catching a citrus sugar breeze. But even the usually bustling bakery was quiet this morning, the glass door closed and only a faint glow that suggested Pip was preparing for the day's baking without the energy to open the front door or welcome customers just yet. Tin's haberdashery shop wasn't open either, its colorful window display of ribbons and buttons and fine fabrics looking somehow forlorn without the gnome bustling around inside.
They reached the town square with its weathered stone pillar, glanced at the empty market stalls that had been so busy the night before, and then cut across toward the woods that bordered the village on the eastern side.
The morning sunlight, which had been bright in the village, became dappled and suffused as they crossed the tree line. Ancient oaks and towering pines filtered the light through their branches, creating a mosaic of golden patches on the forest floor. The air smelled of damp earth and decomposing leaves, moss and wild herbs, with the faint underlying scent of wood smoke that suggested there was a camp not too far away.
Their footsteps made satisfying crunching sounds as they walked through the carpet of fallen leaves, and Sass marveled at the hush. For a band of well-armed dwarves, they were remarkably silent. No booming voices echoed off the trees, no hiss of axe blades being sharpened on stone, and no clang of ladle against cauldron. The only indication that they hadn’t fled entirely was the faint prickling of the ring on herfinger.
“They must be hiding well,” she murmured to Val. “Dwarf camps aren’t usually quiet.”
Just as the words left her mouth, the ring burned as if it was on fire, startling Sass so much that she went rigid.
Val's hand had moved instinctively to rest on the pommel of her sword. "Maybe they're?—"
The sentence was cut off abruptly as Sass felt the cold kiss of steel against her throat. A blade—broad and sharp enough that she could feel its edge even though it wasn't quite breaking skin—pressed against the exposed curve of her neck.
Sass slid her eyes sideways enough to see that Val was in an identical predicament, an axe blade pressed against her throat. The tall guardswoman had gone completely still, her palms up in the universal gesture of non-aggression.
"Don't take another step," growled a voice behind her, deep and raspy and unmistakably dwarf.
Thirty-Seven
Sass caughtVal's eyes and gave her head the slightest shake she could manage without drawing blood from her own throat. The last thing they needed was for Val to be a hero.
“I’m here to talk to Florin," Sass said, her voice steady even though she could taste the metallic tang of fear in her mouth.
"Who says Florin wants to talk to you?" the dwarf behind her rasped.
Sass swallowed slowly, feeling the blade's edge whisper against her skin as the ring seared her finger. "Since I'm the dwarf she's looking for, I think she does."
There was a long moment of silence broken only by the rustle of wind through the forest canopy and the call of a morning lark. Sass could hear her own breathing, slightly too fast, and the creak of leather as a dwarf shifted position.
Then, as abruptly as they had appeared, the axes lowered.
Sass and Val spun around immediately, but the two dwarves who had ambushed them were still holding their battle axes at the ready, and behind them stood twice as many warriors, all brandishing axes. Val's hand twitched toward her sword hilt, but shedidn't draw the weapon, clearly recognizing that they were outnumbered.
Sass studied the dwarves, noting their unfamiliar faces. She didn't recognize any of them, but that wasn't surprising since they wore the distinctive leather and chain mail of the Trollbane clan, with the twisted mountain peak emblem worked into the breastplate. As a member of the Thornshield clan, she wouldn't know most of Florin's people by sight, which also explained why they hadn't immediately recognized her.
The sound of footsteps on dried leaves made them all turn, and Sass’s breath caught as a figure emerged from behind one of the massive oak trees. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking the dwarf.
Sass stiffened as Florin Trollbane stepped into the dappled morning light.
The dwarf with hair the color of forge fire wore leather armor reinforced with steel plates, sturdy boots made for long marches, and a sword at her hip. But she still looked utterly regal. Long braids coiled around her head, making it seem like she wore a circlet of flames.
