Page 58 of Must Love Libraries and Libations
Granik grinned. “Have faith.”
“I’m grateful to you for your help, Granik.”
“We big guys need to stick together,” he replied with a laugh, then departed.
I pulled on my white undershirt and headed downstairs of the old farmhouse. As he mentioned, Granik had set out a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of grognuts, an orcish-style donut flavored with ale and something orcish that tasted like cinnamon. I’d never tried them before. I settled in at the table, surprised to find that the space was sizeable enough. But then I remembered that a half-giant had once owned the farm.
As I ate a grognut and sipped on lemonade, I was struck by the sweetness and brightness of the space. It was a bachelor’s home, with only a little embellishment in the form of blue-and white gingham curtains, curious duck-shaped canisters on the counter, and a few hand-embroidered scenes of orcish lands hanging in frames on the wall. But there were also baskets of freshly harvested corn, squash, and mushrooms. And on the windowsill, an orange cat slept deeply, ignoring me entirely. On the white kitchen table sat a pitcher of wildflowers and a half-finished loaf of bread. There was a mellowness to the place that was not unlike my study, but here, there was so much life and light—definitely unlike my study.
A snort, followed by a frustrated squeal, and then a rustle, came from a box nearby. Curious, I went to look. Inside, I found a tiny snufflecorn piglet looking up at me. He was a cute little fellow, his skin a pale pink color, the wiry fur overtop in a rainbow of pastel shades. His small, golden horn glimmered in the slants of sunlight shining into the room.
“Hello, little creature,” I said gently.
He gave a little squeal then circled his box once more, an indignant expression on his face.
“Ah, you’ve found Abraxis,” Granik said, returning. “He is taking some time out.”
“And what is his crime?”
“He’s an apple thief. He wanders, this one, and discovered the orchard next door. He’s been using his horn magic to pick a whole tree clean. He’s his brother and sister’s hero, but he is arch-enemy number one to Farmer Squashmire, with whom I’d rather stay on good relations.”
I chuckled softly. “Not unlike my mischievous bookwyrms.”
“I suppose so,” Granik said with a light laugh. “That red-scaled one knew I had a sack of granola in my pocket last night. Wasn’t satisfied until I gave it to him.”
“That would be Stevenson.”
Granik grinned. “They’re an interesting bunch, the bookwyrms. You do well with them. Now, as for your shirt and coat, help will arrive any moment.”
“Help?”
Almost on cue, there was a knock on the door. “Granik?” a soft voice called.
Granik gave me a knowing wink then went to the door.
“Ah, good morrow, neighbor.”
“Well, I brought my kit. What did you rip through this time, boy?” I heard a gentle but chiding voice ask.
“It’s not me this time. You will be surprised when you see who I have here.”
An elderly woman wearing a flower-print apron, her hair pulled into a tidy bun, a sewing basket dangling from the crook of her arm, appeared.
“Acorns and pinecones, is that you, Master Erasmus?”
I rose. “It is. Missus Lightfeather, isn’t it?”
“You remember me?”
I inclined my head to her, remembering her once-vibrant red hair and pleasing laugh. She would often come to the library for books on sewing magic.
“Master Erasmus needs my formal dress shirt and coat for tonight, but he has appendages I was not blessed with. Can you be of help?”
“Hmm,” she said, nodding as she sized me over. “For the party, then?”
“Yes, madam,” I replied.
“They said in town you threw a fit and weren’t coming.”
