Page 9 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
Another rough clear of the throat. “Can you bake as good as your gran?”
Lira decided the truth—that she hadn’t touched a rolling pin since she’d left Wayside—was not what the situation called for, so she gave the truth a spin. “I grew up baking by her side.”
A rasp rattled Durn’s chest as he rocked back on his heels. “It sure would be nice to serve food again. Folks like some supper with their drink.” A frown tugged his mouth back down. “But I can’t pay much. Business hasn’t been so good since—”
“Room and board will be fine to start,” Lira said, ignoring the grumble of protest from the dwarf. “And whatever supplies we need to get this place fixed up.”
“Guess I got nothing to lose.” The man grunted and spun on one heel. “Come on in. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”
Lira waited until he was far enough inside that he wouldn’t hear her before pivoting to the dwarf and holding out her hand. “I guess we’re partners now. I’m Lira Redfern.”
“I heard. I’m Sarsparilla. Sarsparilla Thornshield, but everyone calls me Sass.” The dwarf’s expression was wary as she slipped her brown, calloused hand into Lira’s slender one. “That’s some silver tongue you’ve got.”
Lira wasn’t sure if Sass meant that as a compliment.
“Why didn’t you turn me in?” the dwarf whispered. “You weren’t after the till. Does it have something to do with why you were in the cellar?”
So, she’d figured out where Lira had come from. That wasn’t ideal, but Lira was sure her instinct about the dwarf was correct, and she wasn’t a threat. In fact, her gut told her that Sass was going to be an asset. Or maybe it had been months since she’d run with her crew, and she missed the camaraderie. Either way, they were in it together now.
Lira shrugged and headed back inside the tavern. “You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”
Five
Lira’s bootscreaked on the narrow stairs as she followed Durn's broad back. The tavernkeeper’s gruff demeanor hadn't improved since their encounter downstairs, but at least he'd bought their story about the goblin burglar. And at least he’d remembered her gran.
Thanks, Gran. Lira’s throat tightened as she thought of the woman who’d raised her, but she swallowed hard. The last thing she needed was to show weakness in front of the dwarf.
She cast a quick look over her shoulder as Sass trudged behind her, the dwarf's steps cautious and heavy.
At the top of the stairs, Durn shouldered open a warped door. "This'll be your room," hegrunted, ducking inside.
Lira had to stoop to enter, her eyes adjusting as the candle in Durn’s hand sent shadows dancing across the cramped space. Two narrow beds flanked a battered nightstand, and their frames sagged under thin mattresses. A chipped washbasin perched atop the squat dresser, accompanied by an earthenware pitcher, and a ladder-back chair with a splintered, rattan seat leaned against one wall. The fireplace beside it yawned empty and cold, only a smattering of ash in place of fresh logs or a thick chunk of peat.
The smell hit her next—the air musty and stale, with hints of mildew and mouse droppings. Lira wrinkled her nose but held her tongue. This room, as uninviting as it was, put her one step closer to retrieving what she’d buried in the cellar.
Durn used his candle to light a hurricane lamp on the nightstand, the flame dancing behind the dusty veil of glass. "There's your light. Don't burn the place down." With that, he stomped out, leaving Lira and Sass alone in the flickering shadows.
Lira’s gaze slid to her unlikely companion. The dwarf's face was smudged with dirt, her clothes caked in mud from their tumble outside. Lira knew she looked no better.
Sass broke the silence first. "Well, this is right cozy.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, which amused Lira. She never imagined dwarves having much of a sense of humor.
"Beats a jail cell."
Sass lifted a brow and wrinkled her nose. “Not by much.”
Lira wanted to ask how many jail cells Sass had seen the inside of, but exhaustion overtook her curiosity. The weight of her journey had seeped through skin and muscle to nest in her bones.
Things hadn’t gone as planned, but they could have been worse. She was alive, she wasn’t being held in a dungeon, and she was close to her gran’s book and her stash of gold. A few floors above it, but that was enough for now.
“These beds don’t look like much.” Sass pressed one hand on the mattress closest to her and it shrank from her touch, sagging evencloser to the floor from the pressure. “But I don’t suppose it would be right to cover them in mud.”
Lira glanced at her own cloak flecked with red-brown, shrugging it off and draping it over the ladder-back chair that blessedly did not splinter from the impact. She dropped her leather satchel on the floor next to it, grateful that she had more than just the clothes on her back.
Without a word, Sass began peeling off her muddy clothes and her shoulder armor, a startling number of blades emerging from waistbands and pockets. Lira winced as she untied her leather waistcoat, her ribs signaling that she’d bruised them at the very least. When she’d stripped down to a linen tunic, she collapsed onto one of the beds, ignoring the ominous creaking beneath her and the fact that her toes tickled the foot of the wooden bed frame.
Sass clambered into the other bed with less care, her tunic frayed at the edges and reaching nearly to her knees. The dwarf’s toes were in no danger of dangling off the end.
“So—” Sass kept her eyes on the ceiling. “Why didn't you turn me in—really?”
