Nope. Not this way.
Not when Aire stopped beside an open door, and I plowed into him, and Nicu plowed into me. Frowning, the knight stalked inside the cabin with us trailing after him.
“Hey!” Lyrik charged after us. “What the fuck? That’s off limits.”
Based on the chamber’s contents, I grasped why. Shelves lined every wall, each one packed with glass beakers, mortars and pestles, and polished sieves. Jars of powder. Oily fluids. Pots and tubes. In the stomach of an oven, a pot-bellied cauldron dangled from a hook, with a metallic scent wafting from the rim.
Aire paused in the room’s center, his profile glowering. “You’re a toxin brewer.“
The rogue met him halfway and pointed around. “One: Don’t touch a fucking thing. Two: Show respect. I’m a chemical sorcerer, and everything in this room is fair game. You see unlawful ingredients or volatile substances anywhere?”
“Only the batches of sulfur.” I motioned to the container in question. “And about two dozen other specimens a person can use to weaponize nature.”
“Fine, I’ll amend my statement. Call me an alchemist. It’s classier.”
“Another term would be explosives expert,” Aire reproached.
Lyrik cocked his head and gave the soldier a vapid look. “Yeah? Tell me, knight. What’s it like to walk on water?”
“This explains your hostage impulses when we got here,” I observed. “And that story about having a legit business.”
“Not apologizing for either. I don’t want vagabonds on my turf or touching my stuff.”
Lyrik sauntered in front of a hutch loaded with bubbling decanters, effectively blocking Nicu’s approach. “When the odd traveler grows the balls to venture past the enclave border, they get a hankering for free shit and try looting my stash. Occasional uninvited guests are as good as Autumn. Others, not so much. Strictly speaking, after having one too many experiences with the latter, I’m less hospitable these days. I protect my own, and when somebody—” he gave Nicu a once-over, “—comes along humming a ditty about thieves, I tend to get edgy.”
Nicu bit his lip, masking an impish smirk. So now he thought it was funny.
In any case, it made sense why Lyrik called him a songbird earlier. Nicu had strayed while Aire and I got into a needless argument. Wandering off, our friend must have carried a tune while detouring into Lyrik’s waiting arms.
“When I take commissions, I do it outside these walls,” the rogue continued. “Easy enough when the majority shuns this place.”
“What sort of people?” Aire interrogated.
Lyrik’s features pulled as taut as a cable. “Get to the point, knight.”
“Commoners would not be able to patronize your skills. Perhaps the gentry, then. Or nobles living in outlying estates.”
“Maybe even a few soldiers?” I threw in, because glibness sounded less circumspect. Coming from Aire, the inquisition stood to reason. Coming from me, I had to pull things off more casually, as if I was more interested in fucking these soldiers instead of committing espionage.
The rogue’s eyes jumped between us. “Even peasants can dig up money when they want something badly enough. Poaching, stealing, bribing. The ones with fewer scruples or more desperation always come through with a fat purse. I don’t ask questions. And no, there ain’t no troops in these parts.”He slanted his head. “Though, if you’re a knight protecting the Royal Son, I’d wager you’re on the higher side of the ranks. In which case, you’d know this.”
“I do,” Aire replied without missing a beat. “But I don’t know you.”
Lyrik nodded. “Can’t argue with that.”
After giving the chamber a thorough inspection, Aire gravitated through the open door. Outside, the wind rustled his hair as those hawk eyes patrolled the area. The knight’s departure might have seemed rude, except for two things. One, none of us gave a shit about insulting someone who’d held a knife to Nicu’s throat. Two, Aire was still listening to the conversation.
Actually, three things. He was also keeping watch for us. Although we deemed it safe to hide among these trees, we didn’t know the full lore of this place, so the inclination to stand post gave the soldier purpose.
I turned from the sight. “How long have you been here?”
Lyrik leaned one hip against a table. “A while.”
“That would make you how old?”
“Twenty-one.”
From the ledge, Aire called out, “Are you of Autumn?”
