Page 106 of Of Empires and Dust

“That was one of the worst Falmin impressions I’ve ever heard.” Erik stared at Tarmon in disbelief, a broad smile on his face. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. “I reckon at night we steal their shoes and wear ’em the next day. See how long it takes ’em to notice.” Erik shrugged. “That or he’d knife them while they slept. He was a bit unpredictable like that.”

“I think it’d take him a while, but he’d be sitting there with them. Telling jokes that might start fights, and drinking more than any man should,” Calen said. “He had a way of seeing the good in people.”

“That he did,” Tarmon said, tipping his cup off Calen’s and Erik’s.

“There are a lot of people who should be here but aren’t.” Erik let out a soft sigh, taking a drink from each cup. “Korik and Lopir. Those two dwarves were solid… Alea.”

“They’re here.” Tarmon folded his arms, pressing a closed fist over his heart. “Carry them with you. They’ll make you fight harder.”

“I see why you write poetry,” Erik whispered, just loud enough for both Tarmon and Calen to hear.

“Fuck off,” Tarmon said with a laugh.

All three of them tipped their cups together at that, and a silent moment passed between them.

“Speaking of Alea,” Erik said, looking about. “Where are Dann and Lyrei?”

“I’m not sure.” Calen looked to where the pair had been sitting near Valerys on the other side of the nearest fire. Haem, Lyrin, Gaeleron, Vaeril, Aeson, Chora and the others sat about, drinking and talking – but no Dann and Lyrei. Even Valdrin was there, still scribbling away in his journal. When the young elf had first arrived in the courtyard, he’d spent the better part of an hour chastising two of the Vaelen smiths for not properly polishing a batch of the new armour. Then he’d just sat and scribbled.

“What do you reckon?” Erik asked Calen, an expectant look on his face.

“What do I reckon about what?”

“Lyrei and Dann? I bet the two of them snuck off and?—”

“What about us?” Dann’s voice sounded from behind Calen, and Erik looked as though his soul had left his body.

Calen turned to see Dann and Lyrei standing there with Lasch and Elia Havel, along with Tanner Fjorn.

Both Tanner and Dann held the long handles of a large hand-drawn cart filled with iron-banded wooden casks.

“Hmmm?” Dann looked at Erik with a grin that said he knew exactly what Erik had been suggesting. “Can’t find your words now?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that my wine?”

Erik looked down at the two cups in his hands and gave Dann a fake smile. “Maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, itwasyour wine.”

“Give it to me.” Dann lifted one hand off the cart’s handle and tried to snatch the cup from Erik’s hands.

Erik pulled the cup into his chest. “Say please.”

“I’m going to knife you in your sleep.”

“He’s just like Falmin,” Erik said with a mocking shake of his head.

“Who’s Falmin?”

And just like that, Calen’s heart ached again. He’d never realised that Dann had never met Falmin. Their paths had simply never crossed. That was a strange thought.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dann said before anyone could answer his question. “I’m going to be nice. You can keep the wine.”

Erik gave Dann a sceptical look. “Did you piss in the wine?” He looked down into the cup. “I knew it tasted off.”

Dann turned to Lasch, who had simply stood there with an eager expression on his face. “I’ve just got something better.”

Calen stared past Lasch at the casks piled high in the cart. “Wait… It can’t be.”

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