Thrain stroked a hand down his dark beard, scrunching his mouth as he pondered the question.
"Not nearly as much as that ostrich had during the Solstice Festival!” Rog clambered onto a stool with more difficulty than usual, his blue beard barely poking above the bar top.
The two dissolved into laughter again, and despite everything, Vaskel felt his spirits lift. There was something infectious about their good mood, something pure and uncomplicated that he desperately needed tonight.
The other patrons were watching now, smiling at the pair's antics. This was what Vaskel loved about the Tusk & Tail, about Wayside itself. The way joy spread like ripples on water, touching everyone it reached.
"You know what the best part is?" Rog said, suddenly becoming serious in that way only the inebriated could manage. "That silly bird might have caused a lot of trouble, but he also gave us an adventure.” The gnome slapped his palm on the bar. “I’d been missing our adventures.”
"To adventures!” Thrain raised an imaginary glass. “And to Glen.”
"To Glen!" several patrons echoed, raising their actual drinks.
Vaskel pulled two ales and slid them across the bar to his tipsy friends. "On the house, for the entertainment."
"You're a prince among hellkins," Thrain declared, then paused. "Are there hellkin princes? Is that a thing?"
Before Vaskel could answer, the kitchen door swung open and Lira emerged, carrying a tray of something that smelled absolutely divine. She'd clearly recovered from her morning's baking disaster. Her apron was fresh, her hair neatly braided, and her smile warm.
"Fresh from the oven," she announced, setting the tray on the bar. "Cranberry scones, thanks to our new woodland supplier."
“The raccoon?” whispered Vaskel, not sure if it was supposed to be common knowledge that Lira’s baking assistants were animals.
“I’ve named him Bramble, since he brings me lots of bramble berries from the forest.”
Vaskel searched his mind to remember what berries grew in the forest, wondering if the new kitchen assistant might pilfer from other kitchens. Regardless, the cranberry scones smelled divine. They were golden brown, studded with bright red berries, andtopped with large granules of sugar. Vaskel's mouth watered just looking at them.
"For me?" Thrain reached for one, but Lira playfully slapped his hand away.
"The first one goes to Vaskel," she said, picking up the most perfect scone and offering it to him. "A thank you for earlier. For listening. For being such a good friend."
He accepted the scone with a small bow. “No thank you required, but the scone is very appreciated.”
"Now you can have one," Lira told Thrain, who immediately grabbed two and passed one to Rog.
“Remember that time we found that enchanted bakery in the Whispering Woods?” Rog said through a mouthful of scone. "Everything tasted like your favorite childhood memory,”
“I remember we barely escaped.” Lira narrowed her gaze at her former crew mate. “I remember Cali shooting us out of there while you begged to be left with the cream cakes.”
Rog’s gaze didn’t meet hers. “Don’t remember that bit.”
"These are better than cream cakes,” Thrain declared, even though he hadn’t been with them when they’d stumbled upon the enchanted bakery or the deceptively delectable cakes.
Crumbles scattered the gnome’s beard. “I won’t argue with you. ’Specially since I don’t remember why we’re arguing.”
Thrain slapped his leg and roared with laughter. Vaskel rolled his eyes, biting into his own scone and savoring the tart burst of berry melding perfectly with the butteriness.
Lira shook her head and left the tray of scones next to Vaskel. “Make sure those two eat another to soak up whatever they’ve been drinking.”
Vaskel eyed the scones then the dwarf and gnome crying tears of laughter. “It might take more scones than we have.”
Lira winked at him as she turned on her heel. “There are always more scones.”
For a moment, Vaskel let himself get lost in the sweetness of the scones and the safety of the tavern. For a moment, he let himself believe that nothing was wrong.
Thirteen
She hadn’t come.He’d waited all night for Iris, but she’d never come. As much as he wanted to believe it was because she’d been so busy working on a cure, he suspected the news was worse. What if she hadn’t come because she didn’t want to give him the bad news? What if she couldn’t bear to tell him there was nothing she could do, no way she could save him?
