“I’m quite appreciative you did not want to bring any of them with us,” Damien said once they were far enough away he was sure she wouldn’t suggest turning back. “Not even the littlest one.”
“Oh, Kadruk, don’t remind me!” As Amma wiped at hereyes, Vanders squeezed her neck likely both in an attempt at consolation and a reminder he was there. “Thank Sestoth this will be over soon so I can stop being so sad about every little thing.” She squeezed herself around the middle and grit her teeth.
“Well, perhaps we can help things along by summoning our own, little goblin?” Damien held out an acorn to her.
Amma stood straight again and plucked the seed from his hand. “Kaz!”
“I’ll try to get it right this time.” Damien cleared away a spot and etched in the summoning circle, not so different from banishment.
Amma eagerly sat on the other side, and together they enacted the spell. In the brightness of the day, it was not so blinding, but it was also simpler, and Amma didn’t even waver when she arcanely blossomed a tree into life for sacrifice—a thing he thought not to point out to her just in case she convinced herself she wasn’t as strong as he knew she was.
The imp burst onto their plane, and Amma grabbed him, crying out and hugging him. The thing in her arms wiggled wildly, and she dropped it. As soon as it landed it took off in a blur of red, scuffling up the mountain, disappearing, and then flying past them as it tumbled back down. Damien shot an arm out and caught it by the tail before it plummeted over the edge and to its death.
Hanging by its hind end, Damien held him up, and the imp swung, little clawed hands grabbing onto its little clawed feet. This one had wings, bigger than Kaz’s, but most of the rest of it was small with pinched features and beady eyes and tiny serrated teeth. Even its horns were little nubs. It breathed as though its heart might explode at any moment and its black eyes darted everywhere all at once.
“What in the Abyss,” mumbled Damien, looking down at hiscircle. “Oh, shit. Quaz.”
When he said the name he’d mistakenly written, the imp’s head snapped to Damien and it fell still.
“That’s what you’re called?”
The imp nodded aggressively, whole body shaking with the move.
Damien offered the creature to Amma. “Apologies, My Liege, best I can apparently do.”
CHAPTER 16
UNCOMMON NAMING CONVENTIONS
To reach The Temple of the Void by the twenty-third, they would have to go right through the middle of Buckhead. While the almost-all-knowing oracle, the kingless tribe of goblins, and the bullied dragon had all secretly been welcome obstacles, they no longer had the time to trek around the barony at the base of the mountains. Damien did not look forward to being without distraction from his angsty thoughts of the pit, but after spending many nights sleeping on the rocky ground or barely improved, lumpy goblin bedding, an inn would be a nice change, especially if it were to be his last night alive.
Amma’s presence was the only bright spark. She was thrilled to be entering a city, and her excitement was infectious. “Buckhead’s known for mining. Oh, and this sweet syrup that comes from the trees.” She pressed her hands to her chest and practically swooned. “That’s what should be on the crest instead of those giant antlers.”
Bannerettes hung from many of the shop doors displaying a silver and blue crest, the mark of the Solonedys, she explained, the northernmost ruling family that served the crown. There were no gates into Buckhead, the mountain range a good barrier between it and the rest of civilization. The populace too seemed a good protection—most of them were tall and broad-shouldered and built as if everyone from the town guard to the seamstresses did physical labor daily.
“The Throkulls,” Amma explained quietly when she saw him eyeing a man who was at least two feet taller than Damien andcarrying a donkey over his shoulder like it might have been a sack of flour. “The villagers got friendly with them a few hundred years ago, and they even intermarried with the Solonedys. The tribal lands in the mountains aren’t really part of Eiren, though it’s a point of contention with the crown.”
Quaz nearly tripped Damien then, snaking between his feet. Amma scooped up the imp-turned-cat, the disguise she’d suggested for him before they entered town. It almost suited him, the ginger fur and accompanying dumb look, but he kept wagging his tail and letting his tongue hang out. Damien did prefer him this way though and rubbed under his chin.
“You’re more familiar with this place than I expected.”
“I’m supposed to be familiar with all the baronies and the earldoms and the marches.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “But Faebarrow is the closest barony to Buckhead, so when the Solonedys are called to Eirengaard to pay their annual respects, they stay at our keep during their travels. I also spent a summer here when I was fourteen. My parents exchanged me for Kaspar, the oldest, so we could each learn more about the realm. Laurel wasn’t allowed to come—she’d sprinkled some sort of dust in my mother’s face powder that turned her skin green—so I had to make friends.”
“I’m sure you were quite good at that.”
“Well, it wasn’t that difficult. Everyone here looks scary, but they’re really big softies.” She grinned. “Like someone else I know.”
Damien chose to ignore that despite the tickle it inspired in his chest, just like he’d tried to ignore her assessment of how he had handled things with the dragon. Yes, of course, his deeds were very praise-worthy and wonderful and all those other good things, but the more honeyed her words went, the hotter his face became, and climbing out of the mountains the previous day had been fatiguing enough.
According to their map, the city was laid out along a river that ran north to south, allowing them to pass through its narrow middle in just a few hours and then it would be less than a day’s travel to their destination. If they continued at their pace, they would reach the temple in the middle of the night on the eve of the twenty-third which Damien wasn’t keen on. He needed a more minor distraction.
“Amma, do you remember how you expertly gathered knowledge for us in Elderpass?”
“Asking after gossip?”
“Yes, that. Could you put your skills to use for us here and see if there are any rumors of what might be waiting for us out on the plains?” They were closing in on a wide bridge that crossed the river in the town’s center, a number of busy market stalls and taverns on its far side.
Amma’s grin turned feral as she slipped her hand around his elbow, and Damien found himself being dragged through the streets of Buckhead on her arm. First, they simply listened, meandering behind villagers as they purchased goods and greeted cohorts. Then, Amma boldly struck up conversations with merchants, shrouding her nosiest questions between interest in wares and overblown compliments made easier to believe when she delivered them so sweetly. As the afternoon wore on, she finally led them into a bustling tavern called The Scholar’s Bane where Damien relegated himself to a back corner table, watching as she sat at the bar and flirted some information out of the men there. He reminded himself it was all in the name of gossip, but Quaz did sink his teeth into Damien’s hand when he pet him a bit too hard.
