Page 43 of By the Horns
Kipp huffs with amusement.
Arrod joins our group, a curious look on his face. “What are you three talking about?”
“Sweating together,” Raptor drawls. “You weren’t invited.”
Kipp huffs again, his lizardy version of laughter.
Arrod isn’t deterred by Raptor’s commentary. He just grins at me knowingly. “Is that how it is, then?”
“Is that how what is?” I ask, voice icy.
“Getting a little extratutoringin?” He gives me an obvious wink.
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him. Then I turn to Raptor. “You are, too.” I turn back to Arrod and point at him. “But you’re worse, because I know you mean it, and he doesn’t.”
Kipp falls off his shell, clutching his sides and wheezing in that silent slitherskin laughter of his.
By the time the search is done, the sun has almost completely set, and Master Jay is furious at how long it’s taking for the enforcers to move the trunks and boxes of goods back into the nest. “I have somewhere to be,” he says, voice as shrill as his namesake. “What are the results?”
“You’re clean,” the enforcer captain finally says. He twirls a finger at his men. “Wrap it up, boys. We’ll move on to the next one.”
I manage to remain stone-faced at this announcement, though my insides have turned into a puddle of mush. They found nothing. I eye everyone around, but no one seems guilty or annoyed. Kipp is watching with a bored expression as the men pick up trunks. Hemmen is cleaning under his nails with the edge of a knife, and Arrod is busy flirting with Marta, the nestmaid, who looks fluttery with delight at his attention. I’ll warn her about him.
Once I give myself a moment to collapse in sheer relief, that is.
Twenty
Raptor
Rooster:
Our nest was searched recently due to an anonymous tip, which is ironic. Someone’s investigating my team at the same time I am. Nothing was found, given that we handed the artifact over to you. Makes me wonder what their goal is, though.
Still monitoring the situation. I have it all under control.
—R
Iplan on wakingGwenna early the next day for training, if for nothing else than to see the sleepy, grumpy expression on her face when I rouse her. She’s normally the one who wakes up earlier than all of us, and says it’s been brought on by years of working in a household and rousing before dawn. So today I get up while it’s still dark outside and give her bed a quick shake.
She doesn’t fling her arms out or bolt upright like most would at such an unexpected interruption. Rather, her eyes fly open and she looks around, her body still. I wave a hand at her in the darkness.
I’m rewarded with the charming scowl I’d hoped for. “It’s dark out.” Her voice is a low whisper. “What do you want?”
“I think we should get out of here for training before someone elsetags along.” I thumb a gesture at the two bunks at the far end of the room, indicating Arrod and Hemmen.
Her eyes widen and she sits up, nodding. Gwenna grabs her bag and pads away to the garderobe, no doubt to change into her uniform. I dress, too, but it’s easier for me because I don’t care if the others see me naked. Once I tuck in my guild shirt, I fasten the lightweight fledgling sash to my shoulder. It feels odd, given that I’ve been used to wearing my regular artificer sash with its many pins denoting the discoveries I’ve made. I’m eager to have it back.
When I’m ready, I glance over at the other beds. Kipp’s bed is empty and neatly made, and I suspect I’ll find him in the kitchen again. Beyond his bed is Hemmen’s bunk, with its occupant snoring and clutching a book to his chest, two others by his pillow. On his other side is Arrod, who sleeps sprawled on his belly, still dressed in last night’s clothing. Guessing from his appearance, he reeks of alcohol and late-night choices.
Good. If he’s nursing a hangover, it means he’ll leave me and Gwenna alone. I don’t want either of them tagging along.
I shut the doors to the sleeping quarters with a gentle hand and head for the kitchen. I run into Gwenna in the hall, and she quickly deposits her bag just outside the room before marching back to the kitchen. I follow her, amused at her authoritative manner. She bustles about in the kitchen, slicing bread and fruit. Then she hands me one plate and adds a bit of honey to hers. “We’ll eat a quick bite first, if that’s all right.”
The plate she gave me is full of fruits and nuts and a huge chunk of bread. I grin at her because she’s already memorized what a Taurian likes to eat. She’ll make a good mate to someone someday. Then I squash that thought because she wants to be an artificer, and most men won’t want their wife to work. They’ll expect her to make a home and produce babies. She needs to marry an artificer if she marries anyone, I decide. Someone who understands the job and won’t expect her to put aside her wants and needs for him. She needs a Taurian, who will appreciate her generous curves and tart tongue.
But when I mentally go through the list of Taurians in the guild, I find myself growing jealous at the thought of one of them getting Gwenna’s smiles.
Sarya, I remind myself. You want Sarya.
