Oh gods, please don’t leave me stranded in bloodthirsty chicken territory because I implied I knew more than a few dirty goblin words,thought Fern, with great fervency.
“Let’s hope so,” replied Astryx. “Still. You’re walking from now on.”
On balance, Fern decided she was getting off easy.
They tramped through the woods, hollering until they were hoarse. Well, Astryx’s holler was more of a commanding shout, but it all amounted to the same thing. Sore throats for the both of them, and no Zyll.
“That’s that then,” said Astryx suddenly, dropping her hands from where they’d cupped her mouth. “She’s gone.”
She didn’t seem particularly upset. Mildly annoyed, if anything. Like she’d forgotten where she’d left her toothbrush.
Fern found this challenging to wrap her head around.
It was solidly midday, and the bookseller’s stomach continually registered displeasure at its total emptiness. Her feet hurt, her head felt swimmy, her cloak was a ragged mess, and she could barely remember why she was there in the first place. That mental thread led to a hopeless tangle she didn’t dare tease out.
“Come on, the camp is this way,” said the elf. She’d long since buckled on her baldric, freeing both hands, and she strode away without bothering to see if Fern would follow.
An ember of anger sparked in Fern’s chest and wanted to flicker into something much hotter. “We’re just giving up?”
Astryx didn’t stop moving, but called, “Nothing else for it, really.”
“But . . . she could be dead!”
The elf was getting farther and farther away. “It’s likely. And if so, there’s not a thing that can be done.”
“But . . .hey!” Fern scrambled into a trot before she lost track of Astryx in between the tree trunks.
Panting, she mostly caught up to the Oathmaiden, who didn’t so much as pause. “How can you be so . . . so . . .indifferent?” she sputtered angrily, if breathlessly. It was challenging to confront somebody who kept walking away, and whose stride length was easily double your own.
Astryx spared her a look at least, brows raised. “Do you imagine things always go perfectly in my line of work?”
“Well . . .no,but—”
“And when they don’t, what do you imagine I should be doing differently?”
There was no heat in Astryx’s voice. Just a sort of distant politeness. Possibly even a mild curiosity.
“It’s just . . .stop,will you?”
To Fern’s astonishment, Astryx did.
The rattkin clenched her paws by her hips and caught her breath. “Look. You said that these bounties, they’re about delivering someone someplace. For money.”
The elf didn’t reply, only waited patiently, with that infuriatingly mild look on her face.
“So . . . if that persondieson the way, doesn’t that mean youfucked up?” demanded Fern, with real heat.
“I’d like to point out that the goblin is the one who fled.”
“In her position, that seems like a pretty reasonable thing to do!” hissed Fern.
“She was safe in my care,” insisted Astryx.
“Youtied her up.All the time.”
“Because of the fleeing,” replied the elf, reasonably.
“Well . . .shitkindling!” cried Fern.
