“Besides,” Honey interjected quickly, “even if it does not bring more guests, it would be so convenient for us! The Transportation Circle would stay even after your work is finished, right, Ainsworth?”
He nodded. “Most likely, yes. Once it is set into the land by a sorcerer, it will remain unless there is evidence of another magic-user tampering with it, or if the Skarrow Institution decides to make significant changes to the network.”
“What happens if the sorcerer who made it dies?” Quiddle asked.
“I…” Ainsworth trailed off. “You know, I— I don’t know.”
“Well, there’s a first,” Bren mumbled. The group roared with laughter, with Ruraidh looking rather guilty about it but nevertheless unable to resist. Despite himself, Ainsworth joined in, too.
His attempt at breakfast the following morning did not merit a smile from Alvea, either. Ainsworth had jumped up at dawn, hurried Quiddle and Alvea out the kitchen, and made a delightful baked egg dish, with gently roasted tomatoes and mushrooms. “Another commendable effort—up to the standards of any apprentice of mine for sure,” Alvea said after she polished off her plate. But again, that face was as neutral as ever.
“Oh, come on, Alvea!” Ainsworth exclaimed. “I do have a book to write, you know.”
Alvea shrugged. “Well then, just leave me off whatever it is you want to do.”
Ainsworth frowned, thinking of the pile of flyers and posters he, Ruraidh, and Honey had started to design the previous night to draw people to the inn. He had left just enough space on some of the posters to add Alvea’s name and advertise her food. Ruraidh had drawn a very tasteful, small auldfruit pie under each banner that would hold the text. It would do no good to let that artistic talent go to waste!
“Need a hand with the dishes?” Quiddle asked, leaping to his feet after polishing off his plate.
“No, thank you. You may as well enjoy the full morning off,” Ainsworth replied, but the lad nevertheless followed him into the kitchen.
Ainsworth dropped a pot into the large copper basin, flinching as it sent a wave splashing across his shirt. “Oh, Matron. Perhaps this challenge is above me. I feel like Elspeth trying to rally kelpies from the Etivon.”
Behind him, Honey snorted as she brought through her own plate. “Now, that’s a bit dramatic. Or are you really comparing Alvea to a herd of untamable, beastly water horses?”
Ainsworth sighed. “Yes, I’m being dramatic. But the kelpieswereactually tamable, and were a great asset in one of the final battles of Hinslyth to end the Great Sweep—according to the song, anyway. Right, Quiddle?”
The boy, who had been quietly following their conversation, frowned. “Er, aye. I think so. During the Great Sweet, yeah. Can I go enjoy my morning off now?”
Ainsworth shared a quick glance with Honey. He chose his next words carefully. “Wait one moment, Quiddle. Do you actually know what I’m talking about? Have you heard the song ‘Elspeth Over the Water’?” And had the lad said…the GreatSweet?
Quiddle thought for a moment. “Um, bits of it, I guess. Most of the songs I know came from the ones I heard in the tavern where Ipicked up shifts in the evenings. My da wasn’t much for the songs himself.”
Ainsworth wiped his hands dry, finishing the dishes. “Ah, I see. Well then, probably not. It’s more of a song you’d gather around a bard delivering a performance to hear. Do you— Do you have any favorite songs about the members of the Saltquart Party?”
“Not really, no. I don’t— I don’t really know what you’re talking about.” The boy fiddled with the sleeve on his shirt, then looked up at them, eyes flaring with a sudden defiance. “But I’m not stupid, it’s just—”
“Oh, Quiddle,” said Honey. “It’s all right. We don’t think you’re stupid at all, and I haven’t performed many of these songs for our guests, either.”
“Aye, well. You might not think I’m stupid, but…”
Ainsworth felt a jolt as the boy’s eyes met his. He had thought he was on good terms with Quiddle, but of course, with his arrogant arrival at the inn…what did he expect?
“I do not think that at all, Quiddle. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you that impression.” Ainsworth paused. “It is not an issue for you, but it says a lot about education in this kingdom. You know how to read and write, and I know a city the size of Cawle would have some communal education spaces…” There had been something of the sort in his own village—he and the other children had gathered in their small, local Hall of the Matron, sitting on the stone floor and learning from their neighbors (and sometimes from passing adventurers) how to read and write, and hear historical tales that ignited in Ainsworth a lifelong passion to discover more.
“Da taught me how to read and write. Then he taught me how to serve tables and clean shoes. There wasn’t time to go with the other children to those talks. And…” He went red and looked to the floor. “It cost a copper a day to go. Why would I spend coin to spend a day somewhere, when I couldearncoin instead?”
“I cannot argue with that, Quiddle.” Ainsworth rubbed the bridge of his nose. The erratic way education was delivered in thiskingdom…! It was a problem for someone well above his station to tackle, but he still could not help the unease in his stomach at the thought ofit.
Honey raised a brow, grinning. “Well then, Quiddle, you’re in luck. You have a morning off, andyou”—she poked Ainsworth in the chest—“need a break from cooking and doing dishes. Why not give him a history lesson?”
Ainsworth held back a laugh at the battle raging across Quiddle’s face—horror at the prospect of a morning of schooling, and trying to look grateful at the offer in the name of politeness.
“Well,” Ainsworth began, “I do not teach regularly at Skarrow—I need to be promoted before I have my own classes! But I have certainly delivered lectures before. What say you, Quiddle? I promise to make it as exciting as I can.”
“I’ll join, too,” Honey said brightly. “You’ve seen me perform plenty; it’s your turn to perform now. I’ll ask the others.”
“Excellent. I’ll set up a space!” Ainsworth said, giving Quiddle no time to actually answer. Honey was right—he needed a distraction, and he needed distance from Alvea’s rejection.
