The gnome stroked his beard, his eyes going distant. “Hmm. Hadn’t considered that. You mean like a mask with built-in air so you could breathe?”
“Sure,” Braiden said, wondering if he could do something similar with moongrass. “Do away with the hose entirely. That way you don’t have to stay tethered to the surface. All sorts of things could go wrong if the tubing snaps.”
Braiden would know. Some frayed yarn in the course of a project was a nuisance. A severed lifeline was a catastrophe.
“Maybe even bring some spare tanks of air,” Craghammer said. “Could be with magic, could be with gnomish engineering. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure we could,” the gnome said, narrowing his eyes.
Braiden could see the gears turning in the gnome’s head. But far behind him, frantic splashing erupted in the water.
The gnome looked over his shoulder, then down at his feet. Braiden followed his gaze to where the gnome’s boot hadclamped down on the tubing, cutting off the air to the diving gnome.
“Oops,” the gnome said, hopping off and dashing toward the water.
Craghammer didn’t hesitate. He ripped off his vest, muscles bulging, and took a running dive into the water to rescue them.
Braiden shook his head in awe. He didn’t know how much he could truly teach the orcish warrior, but he certainly didn’t mind having him around.
Craghammer’s clothes had dried off by the time they made it back to Beadle’s Needles, though he was starting to walk funny as they approached the front door.
“Salt and sand crusting in uncomfortable places,” he said, picking up the pace. “I’ll be cleaning up in the lavatory, if you don’t mind.”
Braiden swept a welcoming gesture toward the shop. A greenish oval appeared by the door just as it clicked shut behind Craghammer, the portal to Elyssandra’s cottage. Braiden beamed at the chance to greet her — he hadn’t seen nor heard from her in a few days — but someone else stepped out instead.
“Elder Bahul?” Braiden stammered, incredulous.
The elder seemed to be in high spirits, even gracing Braiden with a smile. Tucked under one arm was a large, flat rectangle wrapped in brown paper. Off the elder went, a spring in his step despite his cumbersome cargo, his painting and his trademark backpack-chest both.
Braiden frowned after the elder, watching as he disappeared down the street when he heard the portal humming again. This time it was Elyssandra, only in a state he’d never seen before.
Her hair was disheveled, her pins in disarray. Her forehead and cheeks were daubed with smears of color, the same as her outfit: a stained olive-green smock, not one of her rich traveling cloaks.
Braiden threw his hands up, at a loss for words.
“Oh, you won’t believe it,” Elyssandra said, grasping Braiden by the shoulders. Her emerald eyes bored into his, burning with excitement. “Remember when I was sketching Elder Bahul in the Underborough? He liked my drawings so much that he commissioned me for a portrait.”
“Hewhat?” The wrapped rectangle under his arm — it was a painting. “Well, I hope he paid you well! You know how much he loves to extort us. Former smuggler, current elder of the Lighthouse, and all that.”
“Well, that’s the thing! He said he doesn’t know anyone who’s ever had a portrait painted by an elven artist. It’s unheard of out in greater Aidun. You’ll never guess how much he paid me.”
She told him. Braiden nearly fell on his butt.
“Elyssandra, that’s — that’s more money than I’ve ever had in my lifetime.”
She clasped her hands. “It gets even better. I used a portion to pay off our debt. The flutterbutter, the unicorn hair — you can forget about all that. Our bill is paid, and there’s plenty left over to boot. Maybe I can invest it in the shop.”
This time Braiden needed to clutch the doorframe to keep from falling. “Or maybe buy some more paints and canvas and become Aidun’s greatest elven artist? In any case, you really didn’t have to, and yet — thank you! Thank you so much.”
He hugged her just as soon as he knew he wasn’t going to faint from happiness. She hugged him back, smelling strongly of oil paints and turpentine.
“And now I have to wash all this paint off. It took me a week to finish, but even bathing every day I somehow end up getting just as much paint on my body as I do on the canvas.”
She rushed back into her cottage. Braiden couldn’t believe his luck, beyond grateful for the generosity of his friends. He didmean it, though, about Elyssandra’s work. Even without seeing Bahul’s portrait, Braiden already knew that she had what it took to become a great artist.
He shook his hands at the wrists as he walked into the shop, trying to work off his excitement before they opened the store again for the afternoon. He hadn’t even made it to the counter when a faint, familiar scent of smoke wafted from behind him. He turned around and yelped in mild surprise, never thinking he’d ever be so pleased to see Valefour.
“You’re back!” Braiden cried. “The portal works both ways, then?”
