“It’s nice to meet you all.” I step away, hoping to ask more questions the next time they return. “Enjoy your evening and let me know if you need more ale.”
All of the information I collect at the Whispering Willow will be useless the minute Wrath tears it from me. My plan rests on his moods. He can’t know what I’m doing. I need to find a way to beat him at his own game.
If someone feeds me false information, could it throw him off? Or there is a way for me to resist his pull, safeguarding my mind. If I act fast enough, could I pretend to be distressed from the magic and slip in a lie before he can get the truth?
Moving around the tavern, I try to pick up on stray pieces of passerby conversations as I fill empty glasses, wipe down tables, and carry plates of food to the guests. The mindless and simple tasks are my favorites, as they allow time to pass quickly without hassle.
When the grandfather clock strikes, it signals the end of my shift. I untie my apron, pulling it over my neck and folding it into my satchel. Grabbing my cloak from behind the bar, I tie it around my shoulders and brace myself for the cold outside.
Alastor slides me a few silver coins, and I take them from him. “Thank you.”
“See you in a few nights.”
Exiting The Whispering Willow, I tuck my cloak closer to my body, noticing the chill in the wind. I only get a short distance away before Renwick hobbles in my path, his lips curling upwards to reveal a toothy grin.
“Ello, halfling girl.”
“Hi, Renwick,” I greet him. “No, I don’t want an elixir.”
He frowns. “How do ya’ know my name?”
“Kaia told me.” I smile. “Do you know where she is?”
I have waited for Kaia to turn up at the tavern again, but she never does. We have much to discuss, as we can mutually benefit one another if she is interested. If our ambitions align, then we can be excellent partners.
“One moment!” I hear a lilting voice call out nearby.
“How ‘bout a cursed object?” Renwick gestures to his cart, plucking a crystal ball and holding it close to me.
I sigh. “I don’t need any curses…” Then an idea suddenly pops into my mind. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know who C. V. Bainbridge is?”
Kaia told me that Renwick is nearly two hundred years old. Maybe he knows something about the author of the book, as he’s likely lived through several generations.
“It’ll cost ya!” Renwick holds up a finger.
I reach into my satchel, pulling one silver coin and handing it to him. “Here.”
“That’s Casimir Vaelric Bainbridge.”
“And who might that be?” I ask.
Before Renwick can reply, Kaia emerges from a nearby tent. A man follows shortly behind, buckling his trousers as he strides off. Her brown eyes meet mine, and a devious smile forms on her lips. She adjusts her dress as she strides over to us, running her fingers through her long hair to push it out of her face.
“You’re not my usual customer,” Kaia teases.
“Can I speak with you?” I ask.
“It’ll cost you!” Renwick quickly cuts in.
Kaia places a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Oh, come on, Rennie. Be nice toprettygirls,” she coos.
He grumbles, but eventually relents. “Fine.”
“You should close up shop; it’s getting late.” Kaia drops herarm. “Go find a nice tree hollow to sleep in, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Renwick doesn’t reply. He turns to close the cover on his cart. With a triumphant humph, Kaia saunters down the street, seemingly unaffected by the cold.
I follow her. “So, these ‘lofty goals’ of yours.”
