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Chapter Four: One Night in the Tavern

  Tex tried to be quiet on their walk back to the Elfsong, but she instead commented on every building as they passed by. That was where she once ran a scam on copper coins. Over there, behind the stall, she kissed her first girlfriend. Under the bridge? Used to tie a line and try to fish up something when food was scarce.

  Yaya took in all the stories but shared none of her own. Her eyes darted around and more than once she touched the mistletoe on her chest without thinking. Tex could tell under her aloof nature that something else was there.

  When they saw an Elf in a sand-coloured cloak – Yaya froze. She slipped behind Tex and put a shaky hand on her blade. Tex stumbled forward, pretending to be off balance. Bumped into the Elf. He threw back his hood. Some High Elf who promptly told off the Hell Spawn who nudged him. Yaya vanished into the crowd, her chin up and nose in the air again. Tex accepted the usual snide comment and mumbled an apology. She tried to keep up with Yaya. Her bright green curls made that easy.

  Yaya went into an alley and leaned against a barrel. Tex watched her take deep breaths and touch her mistletoe as she approached.

  The mistletoe glowed. White magic that looked more like moonlight than sunlight gathered in the palm of Yaya’s right hand, almost like paint. She pressed the hand to the side of her neck. The magic faded into her. Her breathing slowed.

  When Yaya looked up, Tex was looking at her carefully.

  “You shouldn’t use Enchantments on yourself.” Tex said softly. “It can get addictive.”

  Yaya straightened and shrugged. “How does a Barbarian know magic?”

  Tex considered telling her a lie. Something brash and perhaps a little bold – with a wink for added effect. She told the truth instead.

  “I have a very limited set of skills.” Tex reached behind her and took out a bagpipe from a satchel on her back. “And I know a little magic. My younger sibling was always better at it, but I learned some things from them.”

  “Ah. A Bard.” Yaya flipped her hair back. “That explains even more. Are all Bards flirts?”

  The handprint fully faded into Yaya’s neck. “How many siblings do you have?”

  “Just the one.”

  Yaya paused, considered, and then – “I have six older sisters.”

  “That’s fairly prolific for Elves, isn’t it?”

  Yaya nodded, “Both sides of my bloodline carry Green Magic. They kept trying until I was born.”

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  She pushed past Tex, ready to return to the streets.

  But Tex noticed—Yaya waited until she was beside her before continuing toward the Elfsong. Tex kept telling stories. Yaya didn’t say much, but Tex could tell she liked listening.

  At the Elfsong, early dinner was in high gear. They managed to grab a corner booth. Tex flagged down Falten, a human male with a chip on his shoulder. She ordered two bowls of the stew, fresh bread, a glass of wine and tankard of sour stout.

  “You got coin for that Tex?” Falten asked. Tex sighed and pulled out a gold coin.

  Tex tapped the table, “That enough to get my room back too?”

  Falten grabbed the coin and inspected it. “It’ll cover your debts and reopen your tab. On the job then?”

  “Yep.”

  Falten put the coin in his apron and turned to Yaya. “You’re much fancier than her usual trollops. Whatever she’s selling – don’t buy it.”

  Yaya’s nose went even higher into the air, “I do not need advice from a waiter. Be careful how you speak about your … betters.”

  As he left, Falten muttered something about the attitude of Elves that Yaya pretended not to hear. Yaya turned to Tex, who smiled like someone in on the joke.

  When Falten returned with their dinner, Yaya deliberately waited until he left before taking a bite.

  Yaya ate slowly, using a fork and knife for each bite and sipped her wine. Tex ripped her bread and plunged it into the broth like a sponge – washing it down with gulps from her tankard.

  When her bowl was empty and her bread plate crumb-free, Yaya leaned back in her chair.

  “You mentioned that you could get us a sketch?”

  Tex opened her satchel and accidentally squeezed the bagpipes—earning a groan from the instrument and a few glares from nearby tables. Tex rummaged until she pulled out a worn leather folder wrapped around a stack of parchment.

  Using just the edge of a claw, Tex opened the portfolio. The top picture was old, and the sketch lines faded. It was of five Tieflings. Two adult women, an adult man, a very young and gangly Tex – who was holding a much younger child.

  “Oh,” Tex flipped the top one over, “that’s just my family.”

  Tex tucked the sketch away and slid a blank sheet free from the back. She pressed the tip of her right index finger to the page. A small tattoo of a quill glowed, and ink appeared to flow from her claw.

  She began to draw.

  The lines of the windowsill were flawlessly straight. The details of the red cloak with gold thread perfectly rendered. Although the person was in profile, Tex captured the shape of the ear. Pointed. Elf. With a tip missing. She also captured the curve of high cheekbones, the suggestion of a grimace, and the grace of loose hair touching the shoulders.

  Yaya didn’t speak. Tex had talent. Unexpectedly so.

  As Tex fixed a line here and there, Yaya motioned to the rest of the stack.

  “May I?”

  “Sure.” Tex said absentmindedly, engrossed in the work in front of her.

  Yaya turned over the most recent sketch.

  Naked human female posed on a couch.

  Then, two naked Halflings in a bath.

  Next, Dwarf, half-Elf, Dragonborn, and even a Gnome. All in various states of nudity.

  And then came the Tiefling. This one, Yaya lingered on. This one was her best. She could feel the allure on this one. The woman wore nothing but a necklace with a metal chain and small stone. Tex had captured the salacious curve of her horns—and every other part—with intimate precision. It was enough to make Yaya blush.

  Yaya took a long drink of her wine, spreading the sketches around the table.

  “Your usual sort, I presume?”

  Tex’s finger dimmed. She set aside the sketch of the fleeing Elf. Her face was hard to read. Maybe wistful, maybe sad.

  She pointed to the sketch of the Tiefling woman. “Ruined my life for that one.”

  Tex grabbed her tankard and emptied it, flagging down Falten for a refill. Yaya said nothing but held up her glass for more wine.

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