Page 17 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
“Wait, wait, wait.” I stood and waved the letter between us. “You savedtheMadame Potts? When?”
Madame Potts was the illusive, elusive, reclusive oracle who told the future on the Crystal Cast Network all around the continent. World Player indeed! Everyone and their human were looking for that woman.
“How am I supposed to know? Do you know how many people I [Resurrect] in a month?” She reached out for the letter and snatched it back. “Anyway, I’m going.”
“If Madame Potts thinks you should go, then I’m sure it’s where you’re meant to be,” I mused, retaking my seat on the daybed. “Have fun.”
Chloe didn’t leave right away. I felt her stare as I picked up my book with every intention of getting back to it. When she still didn’t take the hint, I glanced up at her while using the opportunity to clean my reading glasses. “What?”
“I’m not the only one who should get out of here and live a little,” Chloe remarked. “When was the last time you left this dungeon—and don’t say breakfast!” She knew me so well. “When was the last time you left the Black Fortress?”
“I went to North Sumbria for the Summer Masquerade, and I’m going to Peldeep next month,” I argued.
“You went to the Continental Council meetings, sure, but did you go dancing? Did you socialize or do anything fun?” she demanded.
“I have fun reading in silence, and I have no intention of doing anything else, thank you,” I replied, placing my glasses back on my face and determinedly shoving my nose into my open book to end the conversation.
Chloe didn’t back down. “When I’m back from my trip, it’s your turn. We’ve been stuck in this stupid castle for too long. I can’t imagine how many banked holidays you have.”
“Need I remind you,” I said, “that I am Commander General Rufus Triever, level fifty-four leader of the King’s Dogs of the Black Fortress and the First Order of the Dark Lord’s army. I don’t take holidays!”
“Do you want my advice?”
“No, but I’m sure you will tell me either way.”
Chloe stood there with her hands on her hips, the scroll nowhere to be seen. She was eye level with me while I was sitting, and a very terrifying woman who was like a sister to me. “You need a hobby, Rufus.”
I lifted my book. “What do you think this is?”
“I know you love reading, but you need something that gets you out of this dungeon. No one knows what your folk form looks like; why don’t you use that?” The concern in her eyes actually got to me a little. “You can go out and do something new in Peldeep. Anything! Go to one of the shows or enter a contest or check out the fish market. The Westcoast Shoals Festival should have something interesting.”
Imagining myself walking about in my humanlike folk format allwas strange, since I’d few reasons to transform fully into a beast or a man. My beast form shed too much, and my folk form was just so … furless.
And the thought of any one of those activities, surrounded in a crush of people, left me in a cold sweat. Still, I could see that this meant something to Chloe.
“If I promise to go tooneshow, will you be happy?” I sighed, imagining the horror of being surrounded by an enthusiastic theater crowd … Maybe a nice, calm music concert instead. I could do that.
It wouldn’t change my life to spendoneafternoon uncomfortable in the stands.
“That’s all I can ask,” Chloe agreed. She turned on her heel and walked out of my office, calling out a final farewell before she left for Servalt. I shifted my glasses back into place and resumed reading from where I’d left off.
Now to find out what exactly the butler had done to Miss Hana’s knight escort!
CHAPTER 6
Bribing Your Horse
Brownie
Any time she had to travel through the Dark Enchanted Forest, Brownie packed light. More than once, she’d had to abandon her wagon to dire wolves or the odd griffin attack. Once they’d even been attacked by a wandering band of knee-high mushfolk.
Every time, she’d managed to escape harm and track down an adventuring party or members of the Dark Lord’s army to come help her retrieve the wagon itself, but the items inside were still subject to being stolen. Or eaten.
Speaking of theft, she’d lost count of the number of times bandits or brigands or worse had captured her. Luckily, her skills as a traveling bard came in handy at such times. For this particular trip, she was using a well-made bright red shoulder bag from a semifamous seamstress. The herringbone weave was popular in North Sumbria these days, and Brownie had bought it as a present to herself after her harrowing ordeal at the Spring Ball.
“You’re up earlier than expected.”
Brownie looked over her shoulder as she finished checking the lines that secured her wagon to her horse. Rufus stood in the courtyard with a winning smile as bright as the sunrise just cresting the eastern sky. His sharp canines flashed. He wore comfortable adventuring attire: white tunic, soft leather calf-length pants, and a dark brown vest with pockets.
