Page 46 of Wizards & Weavers
“Why, yes,” Augustin said, grinning hugely. “How could you tell?”
Warren shrugged. “The seers in our village say that human magic users put a lot of weight in words, and well — you seem like someone who enjoys talking. A lot. I mean, alot.”
Braiden bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing. Warren didn’t seem to mean ill with his statement. It was only his usual bluntness. If Augustin felt slighted by the burrowfolk’s words, he didn’t show it.
Warren led the way toward the edge of the cavern, away from the pond, and curiously, away from the two obvious exits: the one through which the party had come, and the other presumably leading deeper into the dungeon. He encouraged them to step through the thickest part of the foliage there.
Braiden hesitated until he remembered the oddness of Elyssandra’s flower, how stepping into it was the key to activating its magic. Before the leaves had even brushed against his cheek, the trees and bushes parted ways, very much like curtains on a stage.
He watched in awestruck wonder as a secret passage revealed itself: a rocky tunnel lit by more of the luminous mushrooms, some of them set into the walls like sconces.
Warren tapped the end of his staff close to one of them. “Our ancestors cultivated these. Very helpful for underground lighting without all the risks of fire.”
Elyssandra nodded eagerly in agreement. “We have similar plants back home. Glowing flowers.” She reached under the cowl of her cloak, pulling out yet another hairpin. “It looks like this. A five-pointed flower that gives off a bluish light. Starpetals, we call them.”
“Fascinating,” Warren said. “We’ve heard stories about your people, sharp-ears and round-ears alike. The surface world sounds like an interesting place.”
Elyssandra tucked her pin back into her hair, smiling broadly. “Perhaps you should come and visit some time.”
Warren didn’t answer, only filling the tunnel with the rhythmic clack of his staff.
It was only Braiden’s second day away from the shop, and he’d already seen so many wonders underground. He’d made more friends in two days than he had in years — and one of them was an elf, and the other a burrowfolk.
He thought of his pincushion tomato and was very glad that both of them had decided to leave their little shop for a spell.
Letting long-ears and sharp-ears walk ahead, Braiden also thought it was a good time to address Augustin’s untimely display of derring-do.
“That was awfully bullheaded of you,” Braiden said. “When you charged in to attack Warren, I mean, with your arms tied up like that.”
Augustin’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Sometimes you do what you have to do. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking at the time, but I’d considered the possibility of kicking the enemy to death, or perhaps launching a close-ranged spell. Whatever the matter, I’m deeply touched by your concern.”
Braiden cleared his throat, trusting in the pinkish-blue luminescence of the fungi to disguise his growing blush. “It was very brave of you, in any case. Not like me. I kind of just hid out in the tall grass like a coward.”
“Nonsense,” Augustin said, his brows knitting into a frown. “You hung back and assessed the situation, only entering the fray when you had decided on the best course of action. A nonviolent one, too. I highly approve. If you’d killed friend Warren here, we wouldn’t have made a new friend Warren.”
And we wouldn’t be on our way to making contact with a whole new civilization,Braiden thought.
“I don’t know how I would ever kill anyone with weaving magic,” Braiden said, “but I’m glad you don’t think of me as a coward.”
“It’s all right to be a coward sometimes,” Augustin said, smiling. “It’s all right to be afraid. It’s only a question of what you decide to do in spite of the fear. It’s something that all great heroes go through, Braiden Beadle. Quite heroic of you.”
Braiden didn’t know what to say to that. Not once in his life had he ever thought himself brave or heroic. But this was a newBraiden — a new side of himself he was learning to embrace — and here was an entire new area of the world to discover.
“Almost there,” Warren said, the mushroom sconces on the walls seeming to glow even brighter.
Or was it only the illumination coming from the end of the passage? It was so bright, almost like the world above ground. The passage opened up, the rock walls giving way to foliage and greenery.
Warren walked into what seemed like sunlight. Impossible. They couldn’t have made it aboveground already. But it was so warm, so balmy. Warren walked backward with his arms held wide open, the deep black of his fur gleaming and glossy in the brightness. Behind him, dozens of burrowfolk went about their day in a tree-filled village.
Braiden held his breath. All those bedtime stories, all those fables — all along, they were true. With a grin, Warren draped one arm across Braiden’s shoulders, his warm, cotton-soft fur tickling the back of his neck.
“Welcome to my world.”
Chapter
Eighteen
The Underborough wasunlike anything Braiden had ever imagined. The village filled a space even greater than the luminous cavern, big enough to house dozens of burrowfolk homes. Braiden shook his head in amazement. They could have fit an entire Weathervale district in this place, perhaps even more.
