Chapter 13

" T he boy turns into a gull? Surely you're pulling my wing, Evelyn Rosewood!"

"I haven't seen it for myself, of course, but yes, that is his claim," Evelyn replied, and while the situation wasn't entirely amusing, she battled back a laugh at Archie's bewildered expression.

Archie flapped his small wings a few times for good measure, disturbing the silver plume of smoke rising from the hearth below his perch on the mantel. "What sort of magic could do something like that?" he asked. "Certainly not any kind I've heard of."

"I tend to agree," Evelyn replied, carefully scooping the barest pinch of dried lavender from a small jar. Taking a half step back, she emptied the tiny wooden spoon, scattering the minuscule purple petals across the top of a murky blue potion set to brew inside her newly acquired cauldron. After Erwin's departure, she'd made her way to the main plaza and wandered until she found a shop selling kitchen wares. The iron cauldron wasn't as big as the one she used at Crownvale Castle, but it was workable. The merchant was all too happy to get it off his hands, and even delivered it for a few extra fernels.

"It also makes me wonder what else this supposed witch might have been up to," Evelyn continued. "Why was she so desperate to get an invitation to Lord Greymairn's ball? It seems a witch with that kind of power could find a way, even without the proper papers. Why strike such a silly bargain? Suppose the boy had asked to turn into a monstrous bear with the jaws of a shark, and ran around terrorizing the town?"

"A bear with the mouth of a shark?!" Archie hooted. "Evelyn, what goes on inside that pretty head of yours?" He peered at her, one eye growing wider than the other, like a jeweler appraising a stone through a loupe. "It's all those books of yours. Talk of man-eating sea serpents and fanged bats who drink blood!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "You know perfectly well what I mean, and I'm sure if left to your own devices, you could come up with something just as absurd."

"I could ," agreed the owl. "The question is why would I?"

"Bah." Evelyn flapped a hand toward the owl, then turned to finish mixing the liquid part of her potion. She was crafting a basic healing salve, which, once distilled, would make enough to fill a dozen of the larger glass bottles she'd ordered. She would have preferred small clay pots, but had yet to track down a potter within the city's walls.

The healing salve would cover a myriad of the farmers' concerns, and delivering it would give her a reason to visit the farms and ask more questions about the blight.

Archie stood overseeing Evelyn's careful work as the sky darkened from twilight gray to deepest navy. Candles lit up the worktable, with a crackling fire providing a nice glow as she worked. "Have you written to Rona yet?" he asked.

Evelyn scowled and dropped another measured spoonful of the lavender into the cauldron.

"Ah. I'll take that as a no ," he replied. "Then what is all this?"

"It's for the farmers. I promised I would return with more potions for them."

Archie clacked his beak. "It's a distraction, that's what it is."

"I'm helping people."

"You know what would help them? Breaking the curse!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Evelyn dumped a bowl of moonwater into the cauldron, a little too quickly, and as it hit the simmering liquid, it popped and hissed, sending a billow of steam up from the depths. Coughing, Evelyn leaped back, the empty bowl hanging at her side as she used her other hand to clear the steam.

"When will you learn not to stick your face directly into the cauldron?" Archie jeered as he, too, reared back and sought refuge near one of the front windows. "I thought you'd sorted that out after the last time you singed your eyebrows off. Remember that, do you? You scared the children in the market!"

Scowling, Evelyn shot her familiar a scathing look. "I did no such thing."

Archie remained unblinking.

"At least make yourself useful. Push that window open."

A wisp of chilly night air filtered in through the small opening as Archie did his best to kick the frame around the only intact window. Erwin had removed the boards, but warned her not to attempt opening the one with the crack, at least until she could get someone to look at it.

"Easy!" Evelyn exclaimed. "I'm already going to have to see if Sio can replace these windows. I don't need to add that one to the repair bill, too."

"Oh, make up your mind," Archie huffed. "I'm off to find some supper, anyway. I suggest you do the same! You know how you get."

Before Evelyn could argue, the owl slipped through the gap in the window and departed, still muttering to himself .

Huffing, Evelyn turned away. Then the sudden silence hit her with the weight of a sack of potatoes.

"Perhaps getting something to eat isn't the worst idea," she mumbled, keeping her voice low, in case the owl was lingering near enough to hear.

She waited for the cauldron to settle, then dumped sand over the fire and lingered to ensure no sparks or embers remained. Once she was satisfied, she bundled into her cloak, pulled up her hood, and headed into the night, uncertain where the venture would lead.

Trudy's shop was dark except for a sliver of light in the upper window, though Evelyn couldn't see if anyone was inside from her place on the street below. Likewise, Maeve's shop was shuttered for the night, though Evelyn didn't have to wonder where she might be, undoubtedly home with Sio by now. For a moment, as she lingered in the shadows of the eaves, she looked in the direction of the glassmith's shop, and wondered if she should head toward it and see if they were there.

She quickly thought better of it, not wanting to turn herself into a burden or obligation, and instead took the sloping path up the hill, deeper into the city. The soft glow of lanterns, stuffed with mounds of glowing fairy moss, illuminated her path through the otherwise dark streets. People came and went, but the streets were mostly quiet without the bustle of merchants and workers going to and from the docks.

She skittered quickly through the swath of golden yellow light from the windows along the front of The Silver Fin, and hid her face deep in her hood, though part of her thought it would be nice to see Fiona again.

As she wasn't sure which of the taverns and public houses would prove the best choice for a nourishing meal, she decided to follow her nose. This tactic led her to a tavern with large windows and a sign overhead declaring it The Kelpie's Rest. As Evelyn stepped inside, the aroma of the food grew stronger, and it was all she could do to keep herself from racing to the counter and ordering a bowl of everything.

The environment was lively and merry, with nearly every table occupied. Most of the patrons sat eating and drinking, but some were dancing and singing along with the bright string music, courtesy of a reed-thin boy with a shock of black hair and eyes so brilliantly green, Evelyn looked for a hint of points to his ears, figuring him for an elf.

Smiling, Evelyn lowered her hood, and silently thanked her keen sense of smell for bringing her to such a wonderful establishment.

"Need a table, love?" a woman's voice called over the merriment .

Evelyn turned and spotted a statuesque woman with a mass of black curls pulled back from her heart-shaped face. "I just cleared this one over here," she added, not waiting for Evelyn to reply. With a nudge of her chin, she indicated the table in question. "Have a seat. I'll be over to get your order after I get these in the back."

"Thank you!" Evelyn called over the music.

As she wove through the tables, she kept one eye on the musician, trying to identify the song. Whatever it was, it seemed quite popular, as several people in the crowd sang along and knew all the lyrics.

She rounded the last table, and shifted her attention to finding her seat—only to stop short at the sight of an auburn-haired man standing on the other side of the table between them. His hands rested on the rung of the straw-backed chair, as though he'd been about to pull it out, before he'd spotted her coming.

"Oh. Good evening, Coren."

He ducked his bearded chin. "Evelyn." He glanced past her. "Are you here alone?"

"I am. And you?"

He pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit. "Not anymore, it would appear." A twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, gone as quickly as it appeared.

The swell of the final chorus faded, and the young bard played a tricky riff before bowing to the audience, who applauded and cheered. Evelyn watched the musician depart the stage to take a drink from a wooden tankard, placed off to one side.

Coren cleared his throat. "Unless you'd rather not?"

She twisted back to find him waiting, thick auburn brows raised slightly as he dropped a meaningful look at the chair.

"Right." She swept around the table, feeling the heat of him at her back for the barest moment before she sat down and scooted closer to the table's edge. "Sorry. Thank you, I mean."

Coren took the other chair and glanced briefly at the whittled salt and pepper shakers pushed to the edge of the table that pressed against the wall. The shakers were carved from cherry wood and formed into the shape of horse heads—or, Evelyn supposed—kelpie heads, given the tavern's name. A stubby white candle glowed and flickered, casting dancing shadows over the parchment menu placed evenly between them. "Uh, here—" he said, handing her the menu.

"Thank you." Evelyn took it and skimmed the contents. "Do you dine here often?"

Coren chuckled. "Oh, yes. To hear Lou tell it, there's a stool over there with my name engraved on it."

"Big drinker, then?"

Coren barked a laugh. "No!"

Evelyn flashed an easy smile and considered the menu. "The food, then? Well, in that case, what do you recommend? "

When he didn't immediately reply, she peeked up at him through dark lashes and found him watching her. When their eyes met, he straightened and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Um, the fish stew is usually good. Or the, uh, crab. They serve it with roasted potatoes. And there's kind of an unspoken rule for first timers, you can't leave without trying a bowl of Lou's butterscotch pudding."

Evelyn laughed softly. "Is that so?" She set the menu to the side, her mind made up. "Well, I wouldn't want to offend."

That unsure smile pulled at Coren's lips again. "I wasn't sure you were still in town."

Evelyn grinned. "I'm still here, I've simply moved on from terrorizing the local vendors."

Coren chuckled, the rumble low and rich. "Ah. Well, good. I'll let the others know their businesses are safe now."

"I actually needed to come and find you soon," she said, earning an arched brow. "I've decided to try my hand at business, and I'll need a steady supply of herbs. I hoped I could talk you into delivering. If Sailcloth Row might be on one of your routes. I've leased the shop next door to the cobbler, if you know where that is."

Coren's eyes went wide. "Sailcloth Row?"

Evelyn frowned. "Yes… that's where the shop is. Well, shop and living space. It's quite convenient?—"

"Evelyn, you cannot stay on Sailcloth Row. "

She blinked. "What? Why not?"

"It's too near the docks. All manner of trouble spills out into that part of the city after dark." He grimaced, truly looking pained by this new knowledge.

A passing server deposited two water glasses at the edge of their table, and Evelyn grabbed one up and drank deeply, before shrugging. "I've found it quite peaceful, and my neighbors are lovely."

Coren's mouth opened, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"Listen, I know we've only just met, but I can assure you, I'm plenty capable of taking care of myself," Evelyn said.

The bard started up a new song, this one more subdued, and the woman who'd greeted Evelyn at the door came over, her olive-colored cheeks flushed as she worked to keep a heavy tray over her head. "I didn't see you come in," she said, flashing a warm smile in Coren's direction. "You'll have the usual, I suspect?"

Coren ducked his chin, returning the woman's smile. "You know me, Lou."

She winked, then looked at Evelyn. "And for you, love?"

"I'll try the crab, please."

"Coming right up!" She jostled the tray out of the way of a stream of departing patrons, and headed for the kitchen.

She made it two steps before Coren called after her, " Oi, Lou, make sure to set aside a bit of pudding for us, will you?"

"Aye." Lou smiled and nodded, then leaned toward Evelyn with a conspiratory twinkle in her dark eyes. "You watch this one, love. He's got quite the sweet tooth."

Coren's cheeks twinged with pink and he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck a second time.

The woman laughed and headed back to the kitchens.

"The pudding must really be something else if it's worth enduring such heckling," Evelyn teased.

"I've known Lou and her family for ages," Coren replied, dropping his hand back to the table. He reached for one of the carved shakers, and ran the pad of his thumb over the curve of the kelpie's neck.

Evelyn shifted in her seat, leaning in a bit closer as the bard began to sing along with his music. "Did you grow up here in Shieglas?"

Coren nodded. "My family has lived around here for decades. I grew up on a farm, outside the city wall, but my father and his father had a shop here in town, so I spent a fair bit of my childhood running through these streets."

"What kind of shop? Were they herb merchants, as well, then?"

"Mainly. But my mother and her mother had their own side business, selling their weavings—rugs and blankets, mainly."

Evelyn smiled. "That sounds lovely."

Coren smiled, but there was a sadness clinging to its edges. "They passed away several years ago, in an accident."

"I'm so sorry." Evelyn's own grief stirred. "I lost my mother, too."

Coren met her eyes, and a familiar pain reflected back at her. "I am sorry, as well, then."

"I never met my father. He left my mother when I was too young to remember much of anything. I suppose he's still around, somewhere." She hitched her shoulder, wishing she felt as unbothered as the simple gesture implied.

"Was your mother a healer, like you?" Coren asked.

Evelyn nodded, a smile blooming as happier memories returned to her and momentarily pushed away the grief. "She was. I learned everything from her."

"So, it seems we both took up the family business," Coren replied with a quiet smile.

"Do you enjoy it?" Evelyn asked. "I imagine it must be quite busy."

"I'm certainly not qualified to teach lectures on the matter, but I do all right," he answered with a faint grin.

Evelyn decided she quite liked his smile.

Lou returned with a platter filled with dried fruit, nuts, and sliced bread, surrounding a small dish of creamed butter, garnished with a sprig of rosemary. "A little something to get you started," she said with a wide smile. "On the house."

Coren started to protest, but Lou waved it off and vanished to the kitchen, returning moments later, her hands clutching the handles of four silver tankards, crested with pillows of foam. She delivered them to the table in the far corner, where a group of goblinkin men sat, tapping their enormous feet to the chorus of the bard's plucky song. More diners had joined in with the song, their mouths full of food. It was a far cry from the stuffy dinners in the royal hall, where the nobles gathered to gossip and plot. Somehow, the coarseness charmed Evelyn. Those gathered in the tavern were at the end of a work week, and clearly had no one to impress, and she found her own toe tapping along under the table.

Coren reached for his glass, pausing short of bringing it to his lips to consider her over its rim. "What about you? Where did you grow up?"

Her heart jerked. Thus far, no one else had balked at her being a witch, not even young Erwin, who had more reason than most to be wary of anyone with magic. But something held her back from telling Coren the whole truth of it. She needed his herbs. There was no way around it. If she told him the truth, would he shut her out? The way the orc at the inn had? Could she risk it?

She took her time spreading a hunk of herbed butter across a slice of the still-steaming bread, where it melted instantly. "I—um, well?—"

As the words floundered on the tip of her tongue, she glanced up to gauge Coren's reaction, only for her attention to snag on the opening swing of the tavern's door and the appearance of a tall orc beside a slim faun woman. Drawing in a breath, Evelyn inhaled a crumb of the bread and choked.

Without thinking, she sprang up from the table, still sputtering and coughing. Coren looked up, his eyes wide with alarm. "Evelyn, are you?—"

She waved a hand at him and nodded frantically, trying to assure him she was fine, before she turned and ran down the hallway leading to the rear exit of the tavern. She shoved open a heavy wooden door and escaped into an alley.

Evelyn bolted into the night.