Chapter 10

W ith the worst of the dust and dirt combed out of her hair and brushed off her dress, Evelyn left her shop. Archie swooped overhead and came to rest on her shoulder as she approached Maeve's door. The sound of laughter filtered through the closed door, and Evelyn shifted nervously. He offered a soft hoot of encouragement, prompting her to knock.

The door opened almost immediately, and Evelyn looked up into a wide blue-tinged face. Then blinked.

"Oi, Lorcan, who is it?"

The goblinkin shuffled to one side. "Don't know."

From across the shop, Maeve beamed, swaying a bit on her feet as she lifted a wooden tankard into the air. "So, you took the place after all?"

The front of the shop looked like any cobbler shop Evelyn had ever seen, with shelves full of boots—those for sale and those in for repair. A worktable spread with bits of leather and the tools of the trade, all of which looked shiny and well-tended. The back of the shop was set up like a kitchen, with a large wooden table between the two spaces. Interestingly, a wall of swords hung on the wall behind the kitchen, and Evelyn didn't imagine any of them were useful in the trade of crafting footwear, but thought better of asking too many questions about the collection.

Aside from the goblinkin, there were two others inside Maeve's shop, gathered near the back where Maeve had a fire going in the hearth. First was an old elf woman, short and stout, with pointed ears and russet-colored skin, weathered from the sun and a long life. Beside her stood a spindly boy with auburn hair only a shade or two darker than Coren's. His fair cheeks were spattered with freckles, and his wide blue eyes glanced around nervously.

Evelyn shrank back slightly as the four pairs of eyes pinned her in place. "I-I did, yes."

Maeve's face split in a wide grin as she beckoned with her free hand. "Well, then come inside. You're one of us now."

The old elven woman peered at Evelyn, one eye squinted. "What's this, Maeve? You can't just let in any stray who wanders in from the Row!"

Evelyn blinked.

Maeve flicked a glance toward the redheaded boy seated nearest the fire, both hands wrapped around a tankard that looked to be missing barely more than a mouthful of foam from the top. "You mean the way you did with Erwin?"

The boy retreated further into himself, taking a cautious sip from his tankard, if only to have something to do with himself.

"No offense, 'course, Win," Maeve added, looking at the boy.

He dropped his sharp chin. "'Course not."

"Well, then get inside and shut the door against the cold!" the old woman snapped.

Lorcan, the goblinkin, waited for her to step further inside, then he shut the door, only for it to be pulled open again. Evelyn scrambled out of the way as a tall woman ducked through the door. "Sorry I'm late, love. I've brought a bottle of Patrice's finest, to make up for it."

The door closed and Evelyn realized she knew the new arrival. "Sio?"

"You're forgiven!" Maeve exclaimed, drowning Evelyn out, as she surged forward. A fair bit of ale sloshed down her shirt as she rushed to greet the glassmith with a passionate, if not a little sloppy, kiss.

Then she stole the bottle of wine.

"The door!" the old woman squawked.

Sio turned and closed the door. "Apologies, Trudy." Then, catching sight of Evelyn pressed into the corner beside the narrow staircase, she blinked. "Oh, hello, Evelyn."

Maeve jammed a corkscrew into the bottle and yanked the cork free with a vicious, tearing movement. Her dark eyes shifted between Evelyn and Sio. "Wait, you two have already met?"

"She's the new client I told you about," Sio said, smiling at Evelyn, then turning to Maeve.

"Oh! Well, I suppose that makes sense! A witch would have plenty of need for bottles, I suppose." She gestured with the corkscrew toward the elf. "See, Trudy? She's not a stray. She's Sio's best client! So, be nice. And if you can't manage that, then get busy eating so your mouth is occupied."

"A witch?" Trudy repeated in the same shrill tone she'd used when complaining about the open door. The woman shuffled around the table where an array of vegetable ends and chopped herbs lay in a disorganized heap. She still wielded a small paring knife as she approached Evelyn, her gray-blue eyes narrowed.

The tip of the woman's pointed nose barely reached the center of Evelyn's chest. She looked Evelyn up and down, her thin lips working together, but not producing words. "Hmm! And what's a witch doing around these parts?"

"I-I'm opening a shop next door. An apothecary, really." Evelyn swallowed. "All of the potions will be healing, in nature. "

"What coven do you hail from?" Trudy demanded.

"I'm a Sister of Caele."

"Oi, Trudy, enough! She's my guest," Maeve interjected, not unkind, but firm. Then, smiling at Evelyn, she beckoned her toward the back of the shop where she'd set up her kitchen area. "Come in, Evelyn, and take your cloak off."

Sio made herself at home, dropping into one of the chairs gathered around the table, which seemed to serve as a prep table and dining table. A loaf of bread sat on a wooden board, still steaming. A shallow dish of olive oil sat to one side, its surface flecked with rosemary and sea salt.

Erwin stirred from his seat beside the fire when Trudy reappeared. Unspoken communication passed between them, as Trudy gestured with the knife and offered a series of grunts in lieu of verbal instructions. Erwin passed her bowls, which she filled with the delectable stew before placing them on the table's edge.

Sio waited for Evelyn to remove her cloak, then handed her one of the bowls. It was a glazed piece of pottery, with a slight chip along the rim. Archie gave it a disapproving look, but wisely kept his beak shut.

He did, however, speak up once everyone had their own bowl of stew. "Might there be some entrails still available?" he asked, as though this were in any way polite dinner conversation.

Five pairs of eyes snapped in his direction, unblinking .

"Er, this is my familiar, Archie," Evelyn said.

"Amazing!" Maeve exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "You know, I was on a crew once, and the captain had a talking bird. Of course, he only knew certain words, but he knew all the best dirty jokes, and he'd tell them to you if you slipped him a biscuit now and again. Have you heard the one about the pirate and the mermaid?"

The tips of Erwin's ears went pink and he ducked his face a bit closer to his bowl.

Sio slid a glance toward the lad, who looked hardly older than sixteen, and placed one hand over Maeve's on the table. "Perhaps another time, my love."

Maeve frowned at her, but quickly shrugged it off and went back to her stew.

"How are preparations coming along for the shop?" Sio asked Evelyn. "Are you finding everything you need?"

Hesitantly, Evelyn lifted her spoon to her mouth, all the while trying to ignore the glower from the elderly woman still sitting near the hearth. "It's been a lot of cleaning, thus far. I've managed to enrage a small horde of spiders after I destroyed their life's work and banished them to the outdoors."

Maeve laughed. "I'll bet! Roisin did let that place go to tatters, didn't she?"

"She's very busy!" Lorcan interjected, a little too forcefully. He quickly cleared his throat. "I mean, she has an important job, running the docks, and I imagine it doesn't leave much time for other things."

Maeve slid Sio a sly grin and a needle of an elbow when the goblinkin looked away to butter a hunk of bread.

"So, you make potions?" Erwin asked, peering up from his empty bowl, his serving of stew having already vanished.

"That's right," Evelyn replied with a nod.

Sio leaned into the table, her strong shoulders rising as she braced her weight on her elbows. "You make anything for burns? Talira knows I could use something like that."

Maeve gave a knowing nod. "Most assuredly. I'd complain about having to patch you up all the time, but then, all things considered, I could smooth ointment on your burned fingertips for a lifetime and still never repay you."

Sio glanced up from her wooden spoon, her dark eyes going soft as she peered at Maeve.

Trudy made a rough coughing sound. "Oh, Avalora save us."

Sio chuckled as she extended a hand. Maeve took it and let the glassmith pull her onto her lap, all thoughts of their stew and bread and wine set to the side.

"I'll take what's left of the stew and go if you start that up!" Trudy complained.

Erwin smiled into his tankard.

Maeve kissed Sio all the same, then lingered in the glassmith's lap. "Trudy has something of an aversion to true love," Maeve offered by way of explanation to Evelyn. "Ignore her."

"I do not have an aversion to love," Trudy sniffed. "I simply don't want to listen to another rendition of the story. Hire a bard to write you a song about it, then send him out to tell it high and low, and save my ears from it."

Maeve caught Evelyn's eye and flashed a wicked smile .

"We don't need to hire a bard," Sio interjected. "We have one right here." She gestured with her spoon toward Erwin.

"That's true!" Maeve's eyes glowed. "What do you say, Win? Fancy writing a song about Sio and me?"

Trudy threw her weathered hands into the air and turned to mind the huge iron kettle hanging over the embers.

Evelyn slipped a glance toward Archie. He ruffled his wings in his "I don't know" gesture.

"I could try," Erwin replied to Maeve.

"There's a good lad!" Maeve exclaimed. She swiped Sio's hunk of bread, careful not to drip broth onto the table, then turned to Evelyn as she chewed. Swallowing, she gestured around the room. "I suppose we should make proper introductions?" She laughed. "You know me and Sio, of course. Now, that's Erwin. He's recently moved on from the Row, but he's one of us, all the same."

Erwin smiled, his freckled cheeks rising. "I have an apprenticeship with a local carpenter. But before that, I was here, working in Trudy's bait shop. "

"Working off a debt," Trudy interjected.

The tips of Erwin's ears went pink again.

Evelyn wasn't sure how one would manage to go into debt at a bait shop, but she figured it wasn't her place to ask.

"And Trudy's been here longer than any of us," Maeve continued. "She may have been here even before the roads were laid down. She won't tell us for certain."

Trudy made a rude gesture at Maeve, but this only made her laugh more. As the elf turned back to the fire, Evelyn caught her smirking to herself.

"I promise, we're not always like this," Sio said.

Maeve lifted a hand and tilted it back and forth. "More or less."

"I'm Lorcan," the goblinkin beside her said, extending one massive arm toward Evelyn.

She did her best to wrap her fingers around his forearm as they clasped their arms together, but it proved impossible.

"She knows who you are," Maeve told the goblinkin. "She was here the other day when you came up, bellyaching about your boots!"

Lorcan's expression turned sheepish. "Oh."

Evelyn smiled. "It's very nice to meet you all," she said, then turning to Maeve, added, "I have to admit, I am curious to hear your love story."

The elf glowered at her. "Here we go."

Maeve beamed. "Erwin, take notes for the song! "

Sio laughed. "I'll start," she began. "I was out hunting for bits of sea glass, and I found this one, half-drowned, and tangled up in a torn sail, like some pitiable sea creature caught in a fisherman's net."

"I was shipwrecked," Maeve said, leaning in slightly. Her face sobered for a moment, the gleam leaving her dark eyes. "Likely the only one who survived. So far as I know."

Sio squeezed her in closer, her other hand resting on Maeve's leg. "I scooped her up and carried her to my shop, to get her warmed up. And I haven't been able to get her to leave since!"

Maeve's grin broke through. "Sio!"

The glassmith laughed, the sound honeyed and rich. "It's for the best, my love. If you left, I'd shatter."

Trudy made a retching sound. "Now you see why I try to avoid this?"

Evelyn giggled, and both Lorcan and Erwin joined in the laughter.

"So, you don't live here, then?" Evelyn asked, gesturing vaguely at the interior of the shop.

"No," Sio said. "We have a house a bit further in town, but we gather like this nearly every Griamorn, to share a meal and play a round of Bog Troll. Have you ever played?"

"Bog Troll?" Evelyn quickly shook her head. "I can't say that I've heard of it."

"It's a ridiculous game," Trudy said, casting a glance over her shoulder. "What's the owl's name again?"

"Archie. "

"Come on, then," Trudy replied. "I've got some bits for you, but you'll have to eat them out back."

Archie launched off Evelyn's shoulder fast enough to make her wince as his wings smacked into her face.

Trudy and Archie stepped outside, and Erwin went to collect a wooden box from somewhere behind the main table at the front of Maeve's shop. He hoisted it up proudly and carried it to the table.

"Did you say you're training to be a carpenter?" Evelyn asked the young man.

He nodded. "That's right."

"Perhaps we might get a chance to talk about building some basic furnishings for the shop. If you're interested, that is."

Erwin's blue eyes gleamed. "Of course!"

Everyone finished their stew and worked together to clear the table and dishes. Maeve's shop was well-appointed, with a clear division between the work area and the small living space featuring a longer table and upholstered bench at the back window and a small bookcase wedged in, though the shelves held more tools and stacks of parchment than books.

As they finished cleaning, a black cat wandered down the back stairs, pausing at the landing to stretch and arch its back.

"There you are," Maeve said, giving the feline a fond smile. "That's Smudge," she told Evelyn. "He's a spoiled shop cat, and the only love of Trudy's life." She shot a sidelong glance toward the back door, ensuring the elf hadn't reappeared. "She pretends she's hard as iron, but she sneaks over here to feed bits of fish to Smudge when she thinks I'm not looking."

"Shall I set up the game?" Erwin asked.

Maeve nodded, and by the time Trudy returned, the game was set up and ready for them.

"Your owl went off for the night," the elf said. "Quite an appetite on that one."

Evelyn snorted a laugh. "Tell me about it."

Erwin cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to the table. As Evelyn returned to her seat, she stared at the board. It was a thin square, no thicker than one of the wooden cutting boards she used for mincing herbs. Colorful squares were painted in a zig-zag pattern across it, and a scattering of small wooden figurines stood in various positions.

"We start by drawing rocks from this purse—" Maeve held up a small leather satchel. "Whoever gets the silver-painted one is dubbed the bog troll, and the rest of us are the terrified villagers." She paused to gesture at the various figurines. One stool was taller than the others, though its form was hunched. The paint was faded and chipped, but it appeared to have originally been green, while the villagers were red, purple, blue, and green. "We all roll dice and go around the board. The villagers roll two, while the bog troll only rolls one, but there are loads of traps and snares along the way to slow the villagers down."

"So the troll is trying to catch the villagers?" Evelyn said, gesticulating in a circle.

"Right. And if the troll gets within two spaces of you, you have to shout out Bog Troll !" Maeve crowed so loudly, it made Trudy wince.

Sio rolled her eyes, but smiled widely as she bumped Maeve's hip. "I swear Maeve made up the rules just to see if we would all go along with it! She enjoys making us sound like fools."

Maeve laughed and slid back into Sio's lap. "I did not make it up. The dwarf who sold me the pieces and board had the rules all written down, but somewhere along the way, the parchment went missing." Shifting her fox-like grin to Evelyn, she wiggled her brows. "What do you say, Evelyn? Are you willing to give it a go?"

Evelyn flashed a grin and plunged her hand into the bag, drawing her stone, then opened her fist to reveal a silver-painted stone.

Maeve laughed. "It must be your lucky day."

Evelyn smiled and looked around the table as the others set up their pieces—even Trudy, though her lips remained tightly pursed—and thought that indeed it was quite a lucky day.