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“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Reyna.”
He doesn’t mention my father. I can’t remember the last time I introduced myself to someone and they didn’t ask about Grandmage Telric Ashbourne. But I’m not complaining. It’s a relief to not be in my father’s shadow, for once.
“Most people ask about my father when they meet me,” I tell him, anyway. “I think you might be the first who hasn’t.”
“He’s the Grandmage of Nolderan, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is.”
“I only moved here a few weeks ago when I bought the tavern. I did have an inkling that you shared his surname, but I wasn’t sure if I remembered correctly. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“No, not at all,” I reply. “I just thought it unusual that you didn’t ask me about my father. But it makes sense since you’re new here. Where are you from?”
“Tirith.”
“Tirith is rather large.”
“I’m from Dalry. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“For now.”
“I suppose that means you will have more questions for me later?”
“Perhaps. Though I have yet to think of them.”
He chuckles at that.
Fairway Avenue is the next street along, and The Old Dove lies five doors down on the left. A white dove with a monocle and a walking stick is painted onto its wooden sign.
I slow my pace as we near the tavern, guiding the cart with great care. If I smashed Nolan’s windows as well, then that would probably be enough to make him mad. Especially since they’re so immaculate. With how gleaming they are, it looks like they were cleaned earlier today.
Nolan pulls out a key and jiggles it inside the lock until it yields. He swings open the door and holds it wide as I direct the cart inside. I set it down at the center where there’s plenty of space away from the tables and chairs.
The Old Dove looks much like I remember from when Eliya and I visited last year. Due to how long it would take for our drinks to arrive, we tended to avoid this one.
Wooden beams run along the cream ceiling. Each round table features a small aether crystal. All are switched off, and the room is blanketed in shadows. Moonlight spills in through the polished windows, bright enough that I can discern most of the tavern’s interior.
A counter lies at the far end of the room. Behind it, the stone walls are decorated with shelves containing barrels of ale, bottles of wine, and dozens of tankards.
Nolan flicks on the switches beside the door, and the aether crystals hanging from the center of the ceiling ignite, washing us in dazzling purple light. The tabletops glint with the radiance.
“Right then,” I say, turning to Nolan. I point to the broken cart heaped at my feet. “What are we doing with all these bottles?”
He gestures to the door next to the counter. “We’ll put them all inside the cellar, along with the rest of the wine and ale down there.”
“Sure,” I say, bundling up several bottles into my arms. Nolan grabs the rest, and I follow him into the cellar.
The wooden door groans as he opens it, and we start down the few stone steps. We enter a small room that is barely large enough to fit the countless barrels strewn around. Two large racks are propped against the back wall, filled with bottles of assorted wine. Nolan begins to fill the gaps with the wine he carries, and I do the same.
Once we’re done, we head back up the steps and Nolan shuts the door behind us.
“Well,” he says. “Thank you very much for your help tonight.”
“It’s the least I could do, seeing as it was my fault your cart broke and your bottles got smashed.”
“And I am to blame for your injuries,” Nolan replies. “So, I think we can conclude we’re both equally at fault.”
“I’m not that injured.”
