“Believing that is very dangerous. Think of it this way. In a few days, the job will be done. You’ll go back to Waterdeep with enough gold to help the Righthoofs—and to return the clothing we borrowed, of course—and you will never see me again. I’m the safest person to confide in.”
“Why do you care?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m the grifter,” Saeldian said. “I never tell the truth unless it’s the most useful thing to say. I can’t be trusted, no matter what I do.”
“That is a very lonely way to feel,” Lorzok said. “But is it true?”
This was the part where Saeldian was supposed to say that it wasn’t.
“It’s true,” Saeldian said. “If I’m being honest, I have to admitthat it’s true. You can’t trust me. No matter what I do. No one can.”
“Jubilee trusts you.”
Saeldian had to look away. “I know.”
Lorzok sighed. “I want to hug you.”
“Why?”
“Because you need one.”
“And it’ll fix me?”
“No,” Lorzok said. “But you still need one.”
Saeldian sighed. “Fine.”
Lorzok was so big. His hug wrapped all the way around Saeldian so their face pressed against his chest. Saeldian’s hands didn’t meet behind his back. But he was warm and strong, and no one would see that they held on tight. No one would see Saeldian need this more than anything.
But it wasn’t something Saeldian could have, and so they stepped back. “We need to get moving. Every minute is another minute that archfey might discover that their spell gem is missing. Kell said we could get help here.”
“You have a point about the need for swiftness,” Lorzok said. “But you—do you always keep yourself aloof like this?”
“It’s the Village That Chooses Its Own, Lorzok.” Saeldian looked up into Lorzok’s concerned face. “I read the mood of people and places every day. I know what this place thinks of me.”
Lorzok sighed. “You are not bad, Saeldian.”
“I know you believe that.”
“I think it’s easier for you if you don’t believe it.” Lorzok assessed the party one more time and turned back to the platform that carried them up. “Come down to the cookhouse and eat.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You haven’t eaten in hours, so you will eat even if you don’t want to.”
Saeldian huffed. “Fine.”
“It’s not a rest day, so people take turns fixing the meal. Sizzling noodles, I’m told, with fire-spice sauce, vegetables, and an egg.”
It was an escape from the unfriendly crowd. Saeldian couldn’t thank him. “They have noodles in the Feywild?”
“Everywhere in Faerûn, you can find three things: noodles, bread, and beer. Why would the Feywild be any different?”
Hard boots—no, hooves—clattered behind them. “Hold on!” Verandil clapped a hand on Saeldian’s shoulder. “You can’t run away like that. How will I introduce everyone to the person who brought Kell back to us?”
“Saeldian hasn’t eaten yet today,” Lorzok said.
