Page 56 of By the Horns
Raptor to Rooster:No updates other than to say I’m keeping a close eye on the woman.
Rooster to Raptor:You think she’s the one, then? Should we take her in for questioning?
Raptor to Rooster:I didn’t say she was. I just said I’m updating you. As for the woman, don’t worry, I’m all over her.
In just afew short weeks, Gwenna’s improved on the obstacle course, and I watch with pride as she maneuvers over a low wall with a sideways full-body roll. Even though she’s short, she knows how to move. Hemmen, on the other hand, is rotten. He’s got no stamina at all, and by the time we get halfway through the course, I’m being forced to drag him by his belt to the finish line.
“I just don’t see the point,” Hemmen whines. “I can be the group’s scholar.”
“Are you an idiot?” Arrod scoffs. “You’re a repeater. This can’t be new to you. You know you have to be physically fit enough to explore the tunnels.”
“Maybe I’m not cut out for it.” Hemmen sprawls on the ground like a dramatic child. “Maybe I should be an archivist instead.”
“You have to be invited to join the archivists,” I point out, standing over him. “And you signed up to be a fledgling again. You can’t quit now or you muck things up for all of us.”
“I don’t care.” Hemmen seems on the edge of tears, which is downright embarrassing. I want to grab him by his shirt and shake sense into him.
“It’s all right,” Gwenna soothes, moving to sit next to Hemmen. She’s roped between me and Kipp, which means that it tugs a little on my waist and completely hauls poor Kipp over toward us. “It’s difficult for everyone right now. We’ll get better with practice. We just have to stick with it. You don’t want to be a repeater forever, do you?”
“Maybe.” His tone is sulky, but he’s responding to Gwenna at least.
“You don’t,” she reiterates. “Think of all the terrible things you had to do as a repeater. I had to change chamber pots and do laundry all day long.”
“I had to help repair the streets,” Arrod says suddenly, volunteering information. “Mucking cobblestones always come up out of the street in the worst weather. It’s never when it’s sunny and nice out. It’s always when it’s snowing or when it’s so hot it can roast you in the street.”
Kipp moves to Hemmen’s side and gestures. Looks like digging.
Hemmen manages a faint smile at that. “I didn’t have to dig them, but I did have to help out with latrine duty.”
“See? Hideous work,” Gwenna continues. “And none of it paid. Even if an obstacle course isn’t fun—and trust me, it isnotfun—it’s a stepping stone to getting us to where we want to be. And if you want to complain, we will all join in on the complaining…but don’t give up.”
“I guess.” He still sounds like a brat to me, but I eye Gwenna with new appreciation. I know Hemmen irritates her, but she’s managed to soothe his feelings so quickly that I’m in awe. I’m not good with people, because the moment someone complains, I want to throttle them. But I appreciate Gwenna’s calm demeanor. We need Hemmen, whether we like it or not.
“Come on.” Gwenna gets to her feet, dusting off the seat of her pants. My gaze goes there, admiring that plump, rounded backside. “Once we’re done with this, I’ll buy you a drink. Deal?”
“That’s enough of the obstacle course for today,” Master Jay says suddenly. “You can loosen the ropes. I’ve a better idea for team building.”
A short timelater, our group steps inside the King’s Onion tavern, and my mouth waters. Naiah glances over at our uniformed group, but she doesn’t let her gaze linger on me more than any other customer. Instead, she throws her bar towel over her shoulder and offers us a cheerful grin. “Welcome! Can I get you lot a drink or two? A fried onion?”
“What are we doing here again?” Arrod asks. “Surely there are other mucking bars in this damned city.”
I watch as Kipp heads to the bar and climbs up on one of the stools. He pats the bar, and Naiah gives him a friendly smile and pours him a bit of beer into a shot glass. Kipp holds it with both hands, and his tongue snakes out to lick the foam cap off the top.
Master Jay strides to the bar and gestures for Naiah to come serve us. “The best Fives are those that spend both good and bad times together. Work and play. I want you all to get to know one another well, and perhaps we should start with friendly fun instead of the brutal parts of the job.”
It’s a nice thought, but it also doesn’t sound much like the Jay I know. Some teachers are strict with their fledglings about drinking, but Master Jay has always done his own thing. And yet…is this too convenient? Does this mean he’s got something going on I need to investigate as well? Do I need to notify Rooster about him, too? My mucking dance card is pretty full as it is.
The others seem excited, though. Gwenna sits at the bar next to Kipp, and Hemmen pulls up a stool on the other side of her. I resist the urge to growl at him, but he doesn’t know we’re a thing, so I can’t get mad. It must remain a secret, at least for now. Reluctantly, I take a seat on the other side of Kipp, and Arrod sits next to me.
“Why does everyone come to this bloody tavern?” Arrod asks, wrinkling his nose at the beer put before him. “The brew is nothing special.”
“Free onions.” I reach over and pluck the wedge of onion off his mug and pop it into my mouth. I love onions. I could eat them all day long.It’s one reason why this is my favorite tavern, but one reason amongst many. There’s a Taurian-friendly menu, the beer is cheap, it’s close to home, and I can chat with Naiah when I need potions. I’m here a lot.
Arrod makes a face, wiping the spot where the onion was on his mug. “Just between you and me, if you want to impress the ladies, maybe you don’t shove a ton of onions down your gullet. Makes for terrible kissing.”
“I’ll take my chances.” I’m amused that he’s giving me advice on women—him, a human nobody all of ten years younger than me. Then again, he might have a point. Gwenna and I haven’t kissed, and I wonder if my scent would offend her if I did eat as many onions as I wanted.
I glance down the bar at her. Gwenna has clearly overheard our conversation and takes the decorative onion wedge off her mug and bites down on it, giving me a challenging look. “Real women aren’t afraid of a little flavor.”
