Geezer nodded, thoughtfully rubbing his temples. “This is true—sieves are meant to gobble and gobble until they no longer can. There’s more research to be done on the matter, certainly. Perhaps the two of you can find something more at Fitzroy Manor while I explore my deepest archives.”
Celeste worried the box in her hands before placing it on the small table beside the crystal. It had a carving around its top, vines and blooming roses. “You have to come back in time for the sweetbriar festival,” she said, suddenly remembering. “Ima’riel needs your help, and it’s less than a week away.”
The mage nodded but waved the concern away. “Of course, of course!” But he was already standing and murmuring about dusty books and old parchment.
Celeste wasn’t sure that the answer they got was worth spilling the truth, but it was all they had. At the very least, Syphon would be recuperating again after fully absorbing the water sieve in the caverns, so they had time, though she didn’t know how much.
As they left, they found Baylen repairing the awning over the Horn of Plenty’s entry. He wished them a good afternoon with a lazy grin, commented that he was glad they finally surfaced, and reported that the water was running properly again. Then he asked them to wait a moment while he popped inside the general shop.
It was the smallest reprieve from the heaviness of the day so far, and Celeste nervously grinned up at Reeve when the minotaur went inside. “Maybe we should have told him we were all right after disappearing from his basement. Do you think fixing the plumbing on accident makes up for the lie about going down there in the first place?”
The knight grunted in answer, and his jaw ticked, but he seemed to be fighting a smile rather than a disapproving scowl. Either way, she appreciated what it did to his face, perhaps a little too much, and once again had to look away.
When Baylen reemerged from his shop, he was carrying a small box.Oh, no, thought Celeste as it was handed to her, not athirdmystery vessel.
“Chocolate, from Nicosa,” said Baylen when he caught the worried look she couldn’t hide. Then he chuckled. “I told you I can get anything.”
She immediately tore in and was shocked to see he wasn’t playing some heartless trick. She gazed into the tiny box of rounded mounds that smelled just how she imagined Empyrea would, then remembered her manners. “What do I owe you?”
Baylen only shrugged. “We’re square. I know as well as anyone that sometimes, when we’re far from where we thought we belonged, we need a little reminder of that place. Sometimes it says go back, sometimes it doesn’t. You have a good day now.”
When Baylen wandered back into his shop, tail swishing behind, Celeste turned to Reeve. “Why did he do that? He obviously ordered this long before we fixed the plumbing.”
“He's being nice?” Reeve shrugged, just as Baylen had.
“To me? But why?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” He stared at her for a long moment. “Sometimes people just do nice things.”
Celeste glanced up East Road toward the center circle in town and squeezed the box a little tighter.
CHAPTER 22
ANATOMICALLY SIGNIFICANT FRUIT
Reeve was not thrilled to be going to Fitzroy Manor. He hoped the leader of Briarwyke’s hunters might be out chasing some rabbit through the underbrush—and ungraciously he hoped the rabbit got away—but to Reeve’s disappointment, Fitz both answered the door and looked entirely too pleased to have visitors.
And then he very kindly invited them in. The jerk.
Forgive me, Valcord, I know not what I think. Er, I do know, but I can’t help it. Well, I probably can, but I’ll be honest—I don’t want to.
Reeve had never been inside such a large dwelling. Bendcrest had more than its share of overly large manors, and he had even once been hired out through the temple to accompany a very wealthy merchant on the road, but estate owners rarely required the services of holy knights. They almost never got possessed, and if they did, it was usually too late to do anything about it by the time anyone realized their actions were the work of demonic forces and out of the ordinary.
But being alone in a rather big house hadn’t exactly been kind to Fitz. The kitchen was largely unused, dust had collected on the sills and side tables, and curtains remained drawn in many rooms. The emptiness barely filled up all the space.
“Clara comes twice a moon to clean, and unfortunately she’s not due until tomorrow,” Fitz told them, gesturing to a darkened parlor as they passed by. Carson’s head rose over the arm of a sofa inside, nose ruddy. He lifted a hand, but dropped it back down before he finished waving. “Ah, that’s where he ended up. Hopefully, he made it to the latrine before passing out.”
Despite being in the center of town, the manor was fiercely quiet on its inside. Fitz led them to a chamber that was warmer than the rest and brighter too. It had walls covered in taxidermy and high ceilings that were coffered and metallic. The fresh scent of the outdoors swept in through windows that led to a high-walled garden at the back, sprawling and even greener than the heart of the village’s woody outskirts, but it was a mess too with overgrowth.
“Geezer sent you, eh?” Fitz wasn’t dressed for hunting, his tunic untucked and boots off. “Like I told him years ago, my father’s secrets—whatever they were—died with him, but you two are more than welcome to poke around in any corner you like. I spent months with Geezer looking for something back when he first came to town, but we never uncovered whatever it was he was questing after. Would have helped if he knew.”
“Your father never said anything about a blood mage?” Celeste asked carefully.
“Blood mage?” Fitz laughed. “Never. He did sometimes warn against mages in general, not a fan of magic of any sort, to be honest, which I admit was strange, but I always figured he was just sore no arcana got passed down to us.”
The hunter gestured for them to follow to the other side of the room and portraits there. Celeste listened, but Reeve could really only stand at her back and glower at the man as he grinned and spoke about his ancestry. He even elicited a chuckle out of her at some joke Reeve didn’t understand.
Reeve let the two get further ahead, passing into a hall with more portraits while Reeve hung back in the trophy parlor, admiring the decor, or rather scrutinizing it. Unlike at Geezer’s, there was order here, everything with a place and purpose, if uncared for.
