AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nonsense, we’re happy to have you! And please, call me Kahlia.”
Petrik is holding the baby Kellyn thrust upon him as though he doesn’t know what to do with it. The little one starts fussing, and Petrik looks around desperately for help.
“Turn her the other way,” Kellyn says, “so she can see the room.”
“I don’t want to drop her.”
Temra shakes her head before stepping forward to help him turn the child in his arms.
“Tias, Rallon, Wardra, go wash up and then set the table for dinner. We’ll need four extra plates for our guests.”
“Yes, Ma,” they say, and tread back outside.
Kahlia helps the little girl at the stove now that her hands are free and finally listens to whatever the little boy who had been tapping on her wants to say.
I lean toward Kellyn. “How many of these children are you related to?”
“All of them.”
My eyes widen.
“I have eleven siblings,” he says without missing a beat.
“You never said anything about them,” I accuse.
He shrugs before stepping forward to chat with his mother, Petrik wanders the house with the baby, and Temra and I help the children set the table. It’s a crude piece, with hastily-nailed-together slabs at either end to accommodate all the children. The top has been sanded down and is stained with years of use, but it’s even and manages to just barely fit in the kitchen.
We’re so busy performing our tasks that we don’t notice at first when Kellyn’s father enters the house.
But when I see him, there’s no mistaking his relation to Kellyn. He’s even taller than his son, closer to seven feet than six. His hair is more red than Kellyn’s, but their facial features are so similar. He’s also a bit broader than Kellyn, with a little more at the waist. I can imagine Kellyn looking like this in thirty more years.
“Son,” Mr. Derinor says, and they pat each other firmly on the back while hugging. Kellyn then greets the oldest two children and makes the introductions again, but there are now too many children for me to keep them all straight.
Temra, Petrik, and I are crammed onto one end of the table together. Children are spread out on either side of us while Kellyn sits closer to his parents at the head of the table.
“So, how did you all meet?” Mrs. Derinor—Kahlia—wants to know.
Since we can barely hear the question over the noisy table, Kellyn answers. “I was in Lirasu in between jobs, hoping to commission a weapon from the magical blacksmith there. She was,unfortunately, far too busy to take on a new commission just then. I hope to catch her when she’s free another time.” Kellyn makes a pointed look my way. “Then I met these three. They paid me to take them to Thersa on business, but we became such good friends that we’re still traveling together. They have a job in the capital, so I thought we’d stop by on our way and visit for a bit.”
The lie is so smooth, but I think that’s mostly because it’s filled with truths or near truths, anyway.
“And what business are you in?” Mr. Derinor asks.
“Ziva is a smithy,” Temra says. “I’m her assistant. We’re traveling to the capital in search of work.” Technically not a lie.
Petrik wipes his lips on the back of one hand. “I’m a storyteller.”
Also not a lie, but definitely not the whole truth. We’re probably safe in this small town that rarely receives news of what’s happening outside of it. But if anyone in the village does hear about the warlord’s bounty and knows that a scholar of magic and a gifted blacksmith have arrived, they just might put it all together.
“How wonderful,” Kahlia says. “You must tell us a story before the children go to bed.”
Groans sound around the table. Not in regard to the story, but the bedtime, I think.
“Kellyn,” Kyren, the eleven-year-old, says, “did you kill any bandits on the road this time?”
“Kyren, that is not appropriate dinner conversation,” Mr. Derinor says.
“Nor is it appropriate conversation at all,” Kahlia adds.
