“You don’t have to be here,” said Lady Sibba to Weyland as Alison read. “You could come with me to the Rock to see my people. It’s beautiful and tropical there. It would be like a holiday. I’m sure Alison won’t mind a bit of a delay in finishing the book.”
“Not at all,” said Alison. “Lady Sibba is right. If you leave now, you’ll be gone before any of the royal entourage arrives.”
Weyland seemed to consider this as Strelka, his orc apprentice, arrived carrying a tray of mismatched teacups. Alison recognized some of Gwenla’s own tan mugs among the eclectic mix, and Strelka had even managed to find tiny cups the size of thimbles for the fairies.
“Thank you,” said Alison, taking one of Gwenla’s mugs. The tea was good and hot, just the thing for the damp chill that hung in the morning air.
Weyland downed his cup in one big gulp, deciding. “I’m not going,” he said. “Not to the Rock—not for this reason, at least,” he said to Lady Sibba, who lifted his large hand with some effort and gave it a kiss to show him she wasn’t insulted. “He let me go once. If he finds me again, so be it. I can’t live the rest of my life in fear. I’ll be here, at least until we finish the book. Then you’ll find me at the Rock.”
Lady Sibba smiled. “Alison can come too. And Keir, of course. You’ll be glad we have a doctor on hand, on account of the giant ants, of course.”
“Giant ants?” asked Alison, but before she could hear more, Gwenla had come over, having heard the good news.
“Well done,” said Gwenla. She sat down her teacup to shake Weyland’s hand. “We’ll need you, and we’ll need all the help we can get if we’re going to stop this dam.”
“I’m sorry. The dam?” asked Alison. “But we stopped the dam weeks ago. The vine took off and ran the dwarven industrialist out of town.”
The vine that Keir had caused, although only Gwenla, Aras, Keir, and Alison knew the entire truth of it. The others thought the surge in the vine, which was born of the old magic, had been the town protecting itself from the threat of a dam being constructed that would put it underwater and off the map for good.
“See here—” Gwenla pointed to the relevant passage. “‘And a crew of dwarven industrialists bringing plans to modernize Wilderise into a productive land worthy of investment from the greatest minds and companies in our nations.’ More of them are coming, and I’m sure they won’t have changed their minds because of a little old vine. No, it’s going to take more than that.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Keir.
Gwenla picked up her teacup and took a sip, pausing for dramatic effect. Her grey eyes flashed with mischief.
“Sabotage.”
Chapter Three
THREE QUESTIONS
Rinka
“You’re a spy,” she said, gasping and covering her mouth with her grey hand. “One of King Derkomai’s spies.”
Rinka had managed to get Drystan to take his trousers off—he changed into his other pair so she could mend them—but she thus far had not managed to get him to admit who he was.
He laughed, a warm laugh that nearly doubled him over. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t expecting that.”
“So you’re saying you’re not a spy, then?”
“No, I’m not a spy.”
Rinka narrowed her eyes at him. “Exactly what a spy would say.”
She lifted her eyes from her needlework back to his face, hoping to find a clue in his expression. His eyes were bright, playful, and entirely too pleased with themselves. There was a dimple in his left cheek from his smile: pleasant, but inconclusive. His lips were soft and had just a touch of red to them—but really, that was a useless observation that gave her no hint as to his character.
“Well, that is a conundrum, isn’t it?” he asked her. “What if you guess what I am, but I can’t tell you, and so I deny it?”
“Then I guess there’s no point in my asking at all, then,” said Rinka with a huff, leaning back into her seat in faux resignation.
“Oh, but I was so enjoying it. Why don’t we make a deal?” Drystan leaned in conspiratorially. There was a pleasant smell to him, a bit like the floral scent of the handkerchief. Perhaps a hint at his true vocation.
“Do you work in a flower shop?” Rinka couldn’t resist asking.
“Hold on,” said Drystan, holding up a hand. “I haven’t even told you the deal yet.”
Rinka had to admit she was enjoying this as well. The man seemed to pose no threat to her, suspicious behavior aside, and she could not resist a good puzzle. “Fine,” she said with as much feigned apathy as she could muster. “Let’s hear it.”
