CHAPTER 30 Basking in the Afterglow

CHAPTER 30

Basking in the Afterglow

Brownie

Eventually, every guest had left except the grimalcat. Brownie didn’t mind him and continued playing for the staff as they tidied up.

Music always made cleaning go faster.

Then Page Saryl showed up, her lyre harp case in her hands. “Minstrel Bronwynn!”

“Let me just put away Danielle, and I’ll be ready to go,” Brownie said, accepting the case and carefully packing the lyre harp away. The case was a hard, stiff, layered canvas with a long shoulder strap. It had a pocket sewn on the front for her tuning tools and a few spare coins.

“Who?” Saryl obviously didn’t know whom she was talking about, but her mind was elsewhere. “No! Please, Minstrel Bronwynn. Something terrible has happened.”

That made the bard pause. “Go on?”

Page Saryl’s blue eyes were near watering, and she bowed very low. “I can’t find your bag!”

“The red one?” Brownie immediately regretted leaving that tuning key in her bag. She wanted to let out an aggrieved sigh, but the crushed look on the page girl’s face stopped her. “Did you drop it on the way here?”

A violent headshake of those short purple curls refuted her suggestion. “No, I put it on your bed with your music case, b-but it isn’t there anymore! We should tell the duke!”

The page looked ready to burst into tears on the spot.

“Page Saryl, it’s fine . I promise.” Bronwynn stood up and slung her case over her shoulder. “Besides, I’m sure the duke is a little busy right now, what with the prince visiting. ”

“It’s not fine.” Saryl was really taking this hard, her ashen skin even paler than before. Brownie bent down and put a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulders.

“Why don’t we backtrack together and take another look?”

“Alright.”

The servant’s staircase on the left led into a mudroom before continuing into the castle workrooms: kitchen, laundry, and servant’s quarters. Brownie swept the mudroom with one long glance. There were a few packs and cloaks and shoes, but no familiar red bag.

“I took the shortcut to your room through here.” Page Saryl brought Brownie through a small servants’ door on the other side of the mudroom and into a tight-fitting hall. The cramped space was obviously meant for staff to wander around the castle without going through the main hall. Brownie just barely fit in the passage; she was half giant, not half elf. The path arched in a circle, and luckily, it was a short distance to another set of tight doors.

The bending down to not hit the ceiling was manageable for that short time, but it left a bit of a crick in her neck. She’d also had to slump her shoulders awkwardly to keep Danielle safe from hitting the wall.

Needless to say, she was happy when they came out into the regular hallway, just down the way from her room.

It was a very quick search to determine that the red bag was, in fact, gone.

Brownie turned back to Saryl, bending down on one knee to be at eye level with the page girl.

“Listen, Saryl.” Her voice was soft and her face calm. “This is not your fault. Things go walking at events like this all the time, and you did the right thing telling me right away. The duke should be proud to have such an honest page.”

In fact, this was exactly why Brownie kept her red bag to begin with.

A blush creeped into the distraught girl’s cheeks. She looked down at the ground. “But it is my fault. I was supposed to make sure you and Mister Moray were properly attended.”

“Mister Moray?” Brownie asked, hoping to distract the girl from the threatening tears.

Saryl nodded. “He’s the baker His Grace hired for today’s cake. Mister Moray is really nice.”

“How about this; I’ll stay here, and you can inform the housekeeper about what happened?” Brownie worried that if she left the girl to her own devices she’d actually go and tell the duke. The bard wanted Duke Wyldon to remember her as an excellent musician, not as the contract worker blaming his staff for losing a small bag.

“Alright, I’ll tell Madam Brillabelle. But it might take a while … she is very busy.”

“I’m not going anywhere for quite some time, especially since I’m Commander General Rufus Triever’s ride, and his next appointment isn’t until tomorrow. I’m just going to get changed into something more comfortable.” Brownie carefully hung her lyre harp in its case on the coat hook.

The page bowed again, sniffed once, and quietly excused herself.

Brownie changed into comfortable leggings and a long tunic, belt and pouch, and comfy shoes. She reapplied a bit of makeup around her eyes and some glitter on her cheeks, and was thinking about going out to visit Donna to make sure the mare hadn’t gotten into any more trouble when there was a knock at her door.

She opened it to find a very, very short human, his brown skin weathered, and his salt and pepper black hair tied back in a low ponytail. He looked up at her, and his eyebrow twitched. “Minstrel Bronwynn? ”

“Yes?”

The man shoved a small silver platter with a domed cover toward her. Brownie took it, but just stood there holding it, confused. “I didn’t ask—”

“Saryl was in the kitchen earlier. Upset,” the man started. He scratched his cheek and looked uncomfortable. “She told me what happened, so I promised I’d bring you a treat. These are just some leftover pastries from the party, and I know they won’t replace your stolen bag, but I hope—”

It was Brownie’s turn to interrupt. “Oh! Are you Mister Moray? This really isn’t necessary, but I wouldn’t say no to a snack.”

“I am, and take it. There was plenty of extra for the staff to enjoy.” Mister Moray nodded. “I’m sure the duke will reimburse you for whatever was taken. There’s no excuse for something like that happening.”

“It’s really alright. It was just a bag,” she protested.

“Still …” He looked like he wanted to say more, but trailed off into silence. They stood there a moment longer until Mister Moray coughed. “Well, have a nice day, Minstrel Bronwynn.”

“Thank you.” With Mister Moray gone, Bronwynn sat down on her bed, lifting the cover off the silver plate. There were two markle berries stuffed with caramel, a roasted pistachio cream pudding, and a palm-size slab of crunchy peanut brittle.

“Wow.” The food tasted as good as it looked. Brownie made appreciative noises and savored each dessert slowly. Saryl was absolutely correct; Mister Moray was really nice.

She was basking in the afterglow—and a little sad that she’d finished everything—when another knock sounded at the door. This time, they didn’t wait for her to open it. She was barely off the bed and standing presentably by the time her room was full of knights.

Three knights to be precise, all in full armor. The first one to enter, an elf with darker hair and skin, asked, “Minstrel Bronwynn?”

“Yes?” Brownie raised her hands in the air. “If this is about the stolen bag, I’m serious! It’ll be alright. If you want to pay me for a replacement, that’s fine, but—”

“You are under investigation for the attempted poisoning of Duke Wyldon Holst,” the elf interrupted. “We are to escort you to the holding cell for questioning. Please come quietly.”