“It’s been a busy week,” he answered simply, and she snorted.
“Sure, sure,” she chuckled as she poured him a goblet. “No, I’m sorry I spooked you. I meant what I said, though. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he replied, taking a long sip of the wine. It was much better than the wine at the other tavern. “Well, frankly, yes, I did want to stay away for a bit after our last conversation. But then I had the thought, what’s the point? You already know, and staying away isn’t going to keep you from telling someone else if you really wanted to. And the wine’s much better here anyway, so maybe it’s best to come back more often and buy your silence instead.”
She laughed aloud at that, throwing her head back. “Ha! And they say elves don’t have a sense of humor. Well, my fine friend, if you’ve got coin to spare, I’m happy to get you as much of your fancy elven wine as you can drink. How about something to eat? Today’s special is the steamed bass, if that sounds appealing to you.”
He grimaced. “I think I’ll just have the vegetable platter, please.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but he had a surprisingly easy conversation with her as he ate, and her more friendly demeanor this time assuaged whatever lingering concerns were still in the back of his head. With the lunch rush, they spoke only sporadically at first, but he had nowhere to be, so he lingered at the bar for a while. When the rush died down, she came to stand near him again, chatting as she cleaned.
“So how are you liking Naimere? I don’t think you have any beaches like this where you’re from,” she asked with a wink, and he nodded.
“True,” he said. “I am enjoying the ocean. It’s quite... novel.”
“Nothing like it in the world,” she agreed. “I mean, I’m sure there are port cities like this all over the world, and I’ve seen more than a few of ‘em, but Naimere is something special. I think it’s because it still has a small-town feel. It’s not dirty and smoggy the way a big port city like Vlissingstadt is. There’s enough trade for people to live comfortably, but not so much that it’s strangled out the life of the town, if that makes sense.”
“I understand,” Taegan said. “Elven cities typically disturb as little of the natural topography and flora as possible, so I know what you mean. There is something that happens when a city becomes so large that you can’t see the traces of nature still in it. We strive to never let that happen to our own civilizations.”
“That’s admirable,” Miss Jade sighed, leaning back with a faraway glance. “I’m happy to live out the rest of my days here, but sometimes I think there’s still so much of the world I’ve never seen, and what a waste not to see it!”
“I don’t think that’s a waste. There’s only so much that can be accomplished in one lifetime,” Taegan said with a wry grin. “But I can tell you a bit about some of the elven tree-cities if you’d like. Those tend to be the places tourists prefer to go, partly because they are so unique but because they are very beautiful, too.”
“I’d love to hear it,” she said, and leaned closer to him, propping her head up with her elbows on the bar. He stifled a laugh at the girlish pose, but she grinned widely, knowing full well the juxtaposition of the youthful body language and her world-weary face.
He spent longer than he realized telling her about the old elven tree-cities in the southwest of Aefraya, eventually shifting to stories about the capital, the temple-tree, the ancient customs of elves that had led them from their treetop dwellings to the castle built of stone and wood. For all his hesitance about speaking with her, now that the floodgates were opened, his desperate longing to go home sent a deluge of words from his mouth. He hardly stopped talking about his home save for a few interjections and questions on her part, until he realized the first of the dinner guests were starting to trickle in and he jumped up with a start.
“Goodness, it’s much later than I thought,” he stammered, setting a handful of coins on the bar—he’d lost count of how many drinks she had served him at this point. “I should be going.”
“Come back soon, dear,” Miss Jade replied with another wink. “It’s been so nice talking with you. You’ll have to tell me more about all these elven cities next time you come by. Maybe you’ll just convince me to go on one last trip to see them for myself.”
Taegan hesitated as he rose up from the bar, partly for the wine hitting him all at once as he stood, and partly to consider her words. Despite himself, a slight smile spread across his face, and he nodded.
“I’ll have to come back to tell you more, then,” he agreed with a grin. She laughed and waved him away, and he stepped out into the town square and onto the main street with a smile still lingering on his lips.
Chapter Nine
Oncehehadgonethe first time, it was easier for Taegan to go back to Miss Jade’s inn. The Snoring Seagull was livelier, the wine was better, and she proved to be an excellent conversationalist; clearly she was smart as a whip, but so far she had proven to be more trustworthy than he had initially thought. His daily routine shifted to accommodate visiting her tavern in the afternoons after his morning stroll and swim, as he started taking his second walk to the town square after drying off at the beach, getting lunch at the inn to drink and loiter until closer to sundown when he would finally head home.
But the situation with Zorvut and Tom had changed little, if at all. Zorvut was so absorbed in his training that he hardly seemed to notice when Taegan returned most afternoons, and interactions between them were standoffish and awkward. He had started pulling most of his feelings away from the bond in frustration, though Zorvut seemed to either not notice or not care enough to bring it up. They spoke rarely as well—they would exchange a few words over breakfast some days, maybe over dinner when Taegan returned, but Zorvut was often so tired from the day’s exertion that he would go right to bed once they had shared their evening meal.
It was just as well, Taegan supposed; if they were not talking, they were not fighting. And they were not reallyfightingat all. He could not even say that he was angry with Zorvut, just idle and irritated. But words could certainly start to boil over if they were exchanged, so perhaps it was best they were circling around each other.
It was not sustainable, but everything had been so pleasant when they were on the road together that Taegan was not especially concerned. Once they went home, things would be better, he was sure of it. But the more they trained, the more Taegan suspected it might take longer than he had initially hoped; as unassuming as Tomlin had appeared at first, it was obvious he had some significant magical ability of his own. Occasionally, the retired bard would play his lute or sing a song after dinner, and even Taegan, with his meager sense of the arcane, could notice the shift in the room when he played, the way the very air itself seemed to be drawn toward Tom’s presence and arc in the direction his voice, his song.
Whatever magic he was most skilled with, he certainly channeled it through his music, so it was humbling to think that what he was teaching Zorvut, strong as it was, wasn’t his forte. Though it was impressive, it was still disheartening to think their visit might take much longer than he had first imagined. Zorvut wanted to learn everything Tomlin could show him, and a man with that amount of skill surely could not teach everything he knew in just two or three weeks.
And he still had not gotten a message in return from his father, though he was quite certain it had been long enough that the courier should have delivered his letter by now. He had suspected he probably would not hear back, just for their safety, but it was still a concern always at the back of his head. Had the courier brought the letter to the right hands? Was his father safe? He had not heard anything remarkable in the rumors that had swirled around the tavern—some reports of elves losing border villages, or pushing back and reclaiming them from orc invaders, but nothing regarding the capital or the king. But no news was somehow worse than bad news in his idling thoughts, forced only to wonder with no confirmation either way.
Most of his thoughts he tried to keep to himself, but after a few drinks at the tavern, he would sometimes let a few things slip to Miss Jade.
“So he’s here to learn magic from his father, and you’re here to... what?” she asked when he had mentioned Zorvut’s training. “Keep an eye on him? Make sure he doesn’t defect to the orcs?”
“No, no, I’m not concerned about anything like that,” he protested, shaking his head. “More just for... moral support, I suppose. We didn’t want to be apart.”
“Well, no wonder you’re restless,” she retorted. “What in the hells would he expect? He might be here to work, but he’s asked you to go on an indefinite vacation to somewhere you’ve never been, with no plans to do anything!”
“When you put it that way...” he replied with a grimace. “We didn’t exactly have a plan beyond getting here to see what we could find out. I think neither of us truly expected to be here for so long.”
