Braiden caught him by the arm, supporting him by the waist as he helped Augustin hobble back into Weathervale. His drooping eyes and his sloped shoulders — gods, Braiden couldn’t imagine working magic as big as Augustin apparently attempted on a regular basis.
“That story about the Whiteport tidal wave makes sense now,” Braiden told him. “It really must have wiped you out for a week — pun intended.”
Augustin chuckled weakly. “Best sleep of my life. This is nothing. I could have flown us all the way to the shop, but, you know. My arms were getting tired.”
“I’m choosing to believe that that wasn’t a comment on my weight and simply sound reasoning for why you need to keep exercising your arms and building your strength.”
Augustin laughed again. “I’ll build my strength, all right, back in bed. I’ll be fine by morning. Might skip dinner. Just be sure to have a large breakfast for me when I wake up. Emphasis on large.”
“Anything for the great Wizard of Weathervale.” Braiden pecked him on the cheek. “I can’t believe you flew us all the way home.”
“And I would have flown us all the way to the shop’s doorstep,” Augustin said, repeating himself, exhausted to the edge of delirium. Braiden shushed him gently, and they walked in silence the rest of the way.
The familiar soft breeze and lapping waves off the docks of Weathervale must have lulled Augustin into a sort of dozing daze along the way. Truly impressive, how the man could fall asleep on his feet.
The lights were still on at Beadle’s Needles, the sign flipped toClosed. Braiden rapped his knuckles on the glass. Craghammer’s voice boomed from inside the shop, something to the tune of, “Come back tomorrow,” but he approached the door anyway.
His gruff annoyance at the mild inconvenience turned into stark surprise when he recognized his late night not-actually-customers. Elyssandra rushed up to greet them as Craghammer threw open the door.
“You’re back already?” she asked. “Oh, no. Is Augustin all right? Is that why you had to cut the trip short?”
Before Braiden could answer, Augustin produced something from out of his pocket, a round, perforated stone that whistled from every tiny opening.
“Mission accomplished, actually,” he slurred, just as he fell forward into Craghammer’s arms.
Craghammer threw the wizard over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll take him to bed.”
Elyssandra tutted. “He flew you across the countryside, didn’t he? Both ways?”
“Half of the way going there,” Braiden explained, “but yes, all the way home. Elyssandra, it was amazing! We met the othergoats. And you won’t believe who else I met.”
She took him by the hand, making sure to lock the shop door before she pulled him to the counter. “Tell me everything.”
“Tellus, rather,” Warren said, because he was there, too, tucking into dinner with Bones and the others.
It was a large portion of flatbread, baked to a light brown on the edges, slathered in tomato sauce and topped with a generous portion of cheese and a mix of meats and vegetables for toppings. Someone very considerate had sliced the whole thing into a number of triangular wedges.
Braiden helped himself to a slice, recalling that he’d already seen these delicious creations at the night market. He couldn’t quite remember what they were called, but was quickly converted to a fan.
“It’s like a piece of heaven,” he said, unable to contain himself around a mouthful.
“A piece of pie,” Elyssandra said, “but somehow savory.”
“More like a piece of garbage,” Bones said, the toppings dropping through the chute of his ribcage.
“It’s delicious,” Warren said, sighing as he once again went to retrieve the broom. “We need to find a way to restore your taste buds some day. And maybe get you a stomach, too.”
“He’s fast asleep,” Craghammer said, gently shutting the door behind him. “Hey, save me some. I want a piece of that, too.”
“Plenty for everyone,” Braiden said, satisfied with a single slice, or more realistically, too excited to tell everyone about his adventure with Augustin.
And so he did, breathless by the end, showing off a tuft of Mothergoat wool, tossing it from hand to hand like he was handling a hot potato.
“Phenomenal,” Elyssandra said, hands clasped, exhaling like she’d been holding her breath throughout his entire story. “And it’s warmer than even regular othergoat wool?”
“Hotter, actually. If only I could figure out how to spin this without burning my fingerprints away. Maybe with some mitts? Very awkward to pull off. It might make decent string for the Heirloom. Speaking of which — any progress on that?”
Bones and Warren grinned at each other.
