Page 157 of Keeper of the Word
He slid the pint away from himself, not meeting Hux’s eyes.
“Oi!” A voice across the room called. A large man with a round middle walked toward them, his finger pointed at Tolvar.
Stars. Mayhap Elanna was wrong. Mayhap South had received a WANTED banner.
Tolvar swung his boot up so he could draw out the dagger within.
“Beg your pardon, sir.” The man’s face screwed up in delighted puzzlement. “Are you the Wolf?”
Hux, who also held a concealed dagger, snickered. “Aye, my good sir. You are in the presence of greatness, indeed.”
“Douse out, Hux.”
“And the Wolf was just telling me how much he longed to share some stories.”
The man’s face lit up. “Oi! That so?” He turned to his companions. “Barny, Quim, Trauts, look what we have here. The Wolf, himself!”
The three men dashed toward the table, dragging stools behind them, and excitedly spoke over one another.
“I hate you,” Tolvar said quietly.
“Better me than yourself.” Hux chuckled, clasping his hands behind his head in a stretch.
Tolvar shook his head and ordered a tea.
Tolvar rarely told tales,but he had to admit that passing the evening that way, rather than drowning himself in his sorrows, certainly hadn’t made him hate himself in the morning.
Before entering the dining hall, Tolvar leaned on the wall, observing the others break their fast together. Their appearance was worse for the wear than it had been moons ago, everyone’s clothes and hair disheveled, scars and bruises visible, and weapons not so polished. Yet everyone chattered together like a family of sorts; no more did his knights gawk and shy from Elanna. No more did he feel suspicious of Hux. It reminded Tolvar of the gaggle of misfits he’d last been with: Sloane, Ghlee, Hux, Brinley, Alvie?—
“Alvie,” Tolvar whispered.
He pictured the unusual club the leader of the Brones had carried—and used on Tolvar; simply recalling it made his head throb—until Tolvar eventually killed him and took it as a spoil. ’Twas not wood; that much had been certain when Tolvar fought the man. But he had ne’er given much thought about its material. With no need for it—knights carried swords, after all—Tolvar had given it to Alvie, who’d seized it with glee and treated it as though it were a prized weapon made for a sovereign.
Later, they’d discovered that, in fact, the club had indeed been worthy of a sovereign. A sovereign’s fortune, actually.
“Stars almighty.” Tolvar had completely forgotten about Alvie’s club until this moment.
He entered the dining hall. Joss and Barrett slid away from each other, undoubtedly hoping to go unnoticed. Tolvar ignored them.
“We’re honored you’ve finally graced us with your presence.” Hux snorted then sobered. “What is it?”
“Alvie’s club,” Tolvar said.
Hux narrowed his eyes before they came alight. He clapped his hands together and stood. “Alvie’s club.”
Everyone gave a slack expression.
“What does that mean? What is Alvie’s club?” Joss asked.
“Starstone.”
They wasted no time,something that, more and more, Elanna reiterated, they had very little of.
“Our fortune’s path is racing to meet us,” she said.
Tolvar sent a South raven to Seabeckon to sail a message to Ghlee and Alvie in Deogol.
Bring the club!He wrote twice.
