The door to Erdrik’s office stood ajar and the conversation that had started in hushed tones was now gaining momentum and volume.

  “They said, and I quote-” Erdrik paused, the rustle of paper filling the tense silence. “‘The spell would prevent all people from entering other than the ones determined by the guild members.’ You wrote this after meeting with them. This is precisely why I insist that we ask them more questions. We have to be specific. We have to discuss each subject thoroughly and exhaustively.”

  “Exhaustive is a most fitting term here…” Mauriel muttered, but her sarcasm bounced off Erdrik’s impenetrable armor of stubborness, failing to catch his attention. “Well, I’m telling you that I explained, at length, that the spell would be tailored to their exact requirements, therefore they had to be very careful about their phrasing. At the time they said ‘people’, a term which most would interpret as humans, elves, dwarfs, gnomes, and so on. Now they’re concerned about the spell not affecting other races.”

  There was a pause, during which Xandar imagined Erdrik rubbing his face in an attempt to calm his rising temper.

  “And I told you, dragonborn are not people. I’m not saying this to be offensive, but they are descended from dragons and are built differently. I might be wrong of course, but the spell in its current form would not work on them.”

  “I see,” Mauriel said ponderously. “They also asked if the spell would work in a scenario where a druid wild-shaped into a beast and attempted to break in.”

  “You tell me, Mauriel. If the spell is effective against humans, elves, gnomes and dwarves, would it prevent a druid transformed into an animal shape from entering?”

  Mauriel let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll have to explain that to the guild. They might want to revise the requirements again.”

  “We can’t keep changing everything willy-nilly to accommodate their every whim. They signed off on a specific list of requests, and that’s what we’ve committed to,” Erdrik’s voice grew louder. “Moreover, you need to encourage them to consider probability. How likely is it that a dragonborn would attempt to infiltrate their guild? Or a druid who is also a rogue? We could create the most secure spell imaginable, but that would demand significantly more time, and, surely, a larger budget than we originally agreed on!”

  Xandar swiveled in his chair, pretending to be intensely concentrated on the book before him, as Mauriel rushed past his desk, her heels clicking an impatient, high-pitched rhythm.

  Blombo, a name Mauriel had coined for Blombardon that the rest of the group soon adopted, raised his head, grumbling slowly in his deep voice, “I sure wouldn’t want to be doing her job.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a major headache,” Xandar agreed, though in the privacy of his mind he believed that beneath the often-irritated expression Mauriel wore, she relished the work. Running from one meeting to another, dealing with a new crisis each time, even arguing with Erdrik - it was anything but dull.

  Xandar was in Erdrik’s office when Mauriel returned, reviewing the spell he had just completed. The usual irritation on her face was gone and had given way to exhaustion. She stormed into the chamber, disregarding Xandar, and dropped the leather-bound notebook which was perpetually on her person onto the desk.

  “They changed their damn minds again,” she announced, folding her arms. “Apparently, they had been thinking and realized that windows and doors weren’t the only points of vulnerability. If someone wanted it badly enough, they could break through a wall. Now they want the entire building protected, not just entrances.”

  Erdrik shook his head.

  “And that’s not all,” she went on, “They also figured that if they’re already investing in a protection spell, it should work not only against humans and the like but provide complete coverage against any conscious attempt at breaking in.”

  Erdrik covered his mouth with one hand, lost in thought.

  “Aren’t you mad?” Mauriel asked when it became apparent that a heated response was not imminent.

  The question seemed to rouse Erdrik from his thoughts, a dormant volcano never far from eruption. “That’s why I said we need to dig deep into the real reason they need all of this in the first place. Are they trying to prevent break-ins, or are they safeguarding their funds from theft? Those are entirely different matters,” he said, his tone tired yet oddly composed. You never knew what to expect with Erdrik. “You can’t just take their words at face value. You must ask the right questions, not just ‘What else do you want the spell to do?’”

  With those final words, the calmness vanished, replaced by a feigned cheerfulness. Mauriel seemed to have been waiting for this. “I did not just say ‘Oh, what else could we possibly do for you?’ I tried to understand what they really wanted and for what purpose. But it’s not my fault they keep changing their minds!” she exclaimed.

  “In any case, this is a whole new spell that they’re asking for, and the answer is no. If you have trouble telling them that, I will.” Erdrik declared with an air of finality.

  “They’re willing to pay more,” was Mauriel’s winning argument, and that marked the end of the discussion.

  The jewelers guild was a two-story stone structure some distance to the west of the main square and the university. Other than the golden door knocker, shaped like a ring with a flower for a crown, where often a jewel would sit, it bore no ornaments or decorations. All twelve guild members were standing outside, watching silently as Xandar walked around the building, stopping to cast a spell on each door and window. Mauriel and Erdrik observed from the side.

  “Stone building, and they were worried about someone breaking their walls,” Erdrik muttered, leaning closer to Mauriel and covering his mouth.

  “I’m surprised you’ve convinced them to give that idea up,” Mauriel hummed her agreement and glanced aside. Two more people stood between Erdrik, herself, and the assembly of guild members; one was short and slim, the other tall and wielding a club that rested against one wide shoulder.

  Xandar closed his spell book, flourished one hand theatrically while pronouncing a strange word louder than necessary - Erdrik always said that a show was part of the work - and joined his teammates’ side.

  He then looked over from one group to the other, announcing, “It’s ready.”

  They all turned to watch the short man with the nimble form, who was busy performing a series of joint-popping stretches. When he finished, he took a few soundless steps forward, eyes fixed on the building ahead, then without warning began climbing, his fingers expertly locating niches and landings visible only to him.

  “They’re sure serious about testing,” Xandar noted.

  They found themselves at the very same spot where they had stood just days ago, casting the spell and employing a lightweight and enthusiastic youth to test its efficiency. It had been a success then; the young man had managed to pull himself up to one of the windows, almost squeezing his hand between the stone and the window’s wooden shutters before a surge of energy pushed him back. Fortune favored them when a jeweler, standing too close to the wall, provided him with a bony yet safe landing. They could have considered their job done, but after a meeting to discuss the experiment’s results, the jewelers decided it would be fair to warn potential thieves before they reached the windows. It had taken Xandar, under Erdrik’s guidance, a few more hours to refine the spell. They spent another half day testing it, not to mention the hour of arguing that preceded the entire affair.

  Now, they all watched with bated breath as the guild’s hired rogue made his ascent with impressive agility.

  “Shouldn’t he have been warned already?” Mauriel asked quietly.

  “He needs to get a little higher before the warning is triggered,” Xandar explained, and Erdrik added, “We don’t want it to sound every time someone brushes against the wall by mistake.”

  “He seems to have climbed high enough,” Mauriel observed.

  Xandar opened his mouth to respond when a soft, pleasant female voice emanated from the direction of the building.

  “Warning, it appears that you’re attempting to break in. Note that if you continue, you will be blocked and pushed away from the wall, potentially resulting in minor to severe bodily harm,” it said.

  “I still think the message should have been shorter,” Erdrik commented.

  Mauriel shook her head. “They were very specific about the wording. They held at least three meetings about it.”

  The climber ignored the warning. All eyes remained fixed on him as he placed one hand on the window sill. In an instant, an invisible current of power pushed him away. Unlike the previous tester, this climber was prepared, and gasps filled the air as he rolled into a ball in mid-fall, somersaulted around himself, and landed gracefully on his feet.

  “A professional rogue,” Mauriel informed Xandar, responding to his perplexed stare.

  The man, clad in a tight-fitting gray attire, approached the group of jewelers, his voice casual. “Seems to work fine to me,”

  One jeweler stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. “Would you describe the force as more resisting or more repelling?”

  “There was a slight resistance that increased in direct correlation to my altitude, and when I touched the window, it became strongly repellent,” the rogue answered promptly.

  The jeweler nodded. Another man materialized by his side, clutching a hefty notebook and scribing with an air of urgency. “And assuming that breaking in was your original intention, as opposed to merely testing the mechanism, would you have been convinced by the warning message? Would it have been more impactful if it had sounded earlier or offered more details on the types of bodily harm?”

  “While not fully deterring, I believe it could have caused novice rogues to second-guess themselves, though I’d imagine there would be a direct correlation between the rogue’s experience and the likeliness of dismissing the warning,” the rogue replied.

  “He’s very eloquent for a thief,” Mauriel remarked, while the guild members probed further, attentive to the smallest of details, inquiring about the intensity of the force, the exact altitude at which the rogue first felt it, and his further impressions upon hearing the warning message.

  “Do you think they’ll hold another meeting about that?” Xandar asked jokingly.

  “Likely,” Mauriel muttered in response, her exasperated tone suggesting that the assumption was too painfully accurate to be amusing.

  A member of the group, a round-cheeked man with a pointy nose who wore square glasses over a severe facial expression, detached from the rest and approached the three of them.

  “Mauriel?” he began. “Question.”

  Xandar watched as Mauriel’s facial expression changed instantly, willingness to help and fathomless patience emanating from each nod and smile. “Sure, Morik, what is it?”

  “Would there be a warning message if someone tried to break in through the door?” he asked.

  “That’s a great question, and yes, there would. However, it would only work if the perpetrator used tools such as a pick-pocket kit or a weapon to force the door to open,” she explained.

  “Otherwise, you’d be hearing this message every time you came in or out,” Erdrik added with what Xandar could already recognize as mock amusement.

  “That makes sense, I suppose,” Morik nodded, hinting at the fact that the group’s approval was still under consideration. “And what about the altitude? We were thinking that perhaps the potential thief should be warned earlier?”

  Xanadar turned to face Erdrik in an attempt to hide his annoyance.

  Questions and concerns continued to pour in, voiced by Morik and the other guild members, even after they repositioned themselves in front of the guild house’s entrance for the second part of the test. They briefly paused to observe the rogue trying to pick at the lock with his tools, and after he had been thoroughly warned, blocked, and finally pushed aside, they relented. The rogue was paid and relieved from his duty, with the vague promise that they might wish to utilize his services in the future. In his place, the burly man with the club stepped in, and in the following minutes, he managed to exhaust himself entirely trying to force the door open to no avail.

  They left the guild house a while later after relentless attempts to secure the guild member’s approval of their work, particularly Morik’s. They had managed to gain approval for everything but the final part of the ever-changing agreement, which now included ensuring the protection worked at all times, day or night. Erdrik warned them that a spell of such magnitude would require a strong energy source, but large chunks of expansive crystals were not hard to come by for the jewelers, and they were unyielding in their demand, leaving Erdrik’s with no choice but to comply.

  “You need to ask the right questions,” Erdrik lectured as they made their way back to their headquarters at the university. “Questions like, ‘Considering the current workings of the spell, does this suffice?’ or ‘Does it meet your needs?’ Not just ‘How do you feel about that?’” With these last words, his pitch took a turn, ascending to an exaggerated cheerfulness, his face twisting in an attempt to radiate positivity.

  Sparks flared in Mauriel’s eyes. “When did you hear me say ‘how do you feel about that?’”

  “It’s not about the exact words you use, but the nature of the questions you pose, and the frequent changes in requirements tell me that you’re not delving deep enough,” Erdrik shot back.

  “Trust me, Erdrik, I delve into unfathomable depths and ask every question that your mind could conceive,” Mauriel insisted, “And I didn’t appreciate that mocking tone either.”

  “What mocking tone?” Erdrik sounded genuinely appalled. “I was merely providing examples of useful questions!”

  Mauriel brushed off the explanation, still smoldering with anger. “Because your change in tone just now certainly sounded like mockery to me.”

  Erdrik’s unwavering, self-righteous conviction acted like a shield against Mauriel’s simmering wrath. “I’m being helpful, Mauriel!” he exclaimed. “This is helpful!”

  “And I have to listen to this the entire way…” Xandar muttered under his breath, but no one seemed to notice.

  “Planning a party, Mauriel?” Blombo’s deep rumble broke the silence in the hall.

  Xandar blinked, the letters on the parchment in front of him momentarily blurring before snapping back into focus, and looked up. He had been utterly absorbed in his work, a rush of renewed energy coursing through him as he neared the completion of the spell, eager to be done with it already. Mauriel stood at the hall’s edge, having just arrived, her smile wide and infectious.

  “Of course. It’s to celebrate once you’re done with the spell, and I - I mean we - won’t have to answer any more tedious questions from Morik!” Mauriel beamed, lifting the bottle she held in one hand. “It’s a special brew my mom makes, and if you’re expecting some light, fruity, elven wine, you’re in for a big surprise.”

  Blombo chuckled. “Now, that’s the kind of surprise I like. What’s in the basket?”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Cinnamon rolls, for an energy boost. Although it’s another one of my mom’s experiments, so don’t hold me to that.”

  The wooden tablet hanging on Erdrik’s office door that day bore the ominous red circle, indicating that he was not to be disturbed, and Xandar was surprised to see it swung open, revealing a concerned-looking Erdrik in the doorway. “There shouldn’t be any alcoholic beverages in here,” he announced.

  Mauriel pivoted to greet him with a frown. “Oh, come on, Erdrik. We’re not some group of adolescents. This is to be opened only after work’s done.”

  Erdrik bridged the distance between them with a handful of long strides, inspecting the bottle in her hand. “Even so,” he insisted stubbornly, “it’s not appropriate for a professional work environment. Think of how it would make us look if a client dropped by? Not to mention that a spell might interact with whatever’s in there in unpredictable ways.”

  Mauriel’s shoulders seemed to slump in exasperation. “Fine, then. Why don’t you put it somewhere safe until we’re allowed to use it?”

  Erdrik accepted the bottle begrudgingly, muttering, “The safest place would have been outside of the cellar,” as he retreated back into his office.

  Mauriel shrugged once the door closed behind him, her cheerfulness returning as she made the basket in her hand swing. “Well, at least he can’t deprive us of sugar.”

  Evening descended outside the cellar walls, and the basket of baked goods was halfway finished when the three wizards huddled in Erdrik’s office, going over the now-complete spell. Xandar was met with an expectant look on Mauriel’s face when they finally reemerged. He felt fortunate to be the first one to give her the good news, watching a bright smile light up her features.

  “Right on schedule for tomorrow!” she exclaimed. “Time to celebrate!”

  Erdrik, however, didn’t share her excitement. “Why wouldn’t it be on schedule? If we didn’t make the timeline we committed to, it would mean we did a poor job at planning. Besides, celebrating is for when the work’s complete, which isn’t the case yet.”

  “So we’ll celebrate again after the jewelers test and accept our work tomorrow. This is still a major milestone,” Mauriel argued.

  “And the workday isn’t over yet, need I remind you. I planned to stop by the guild house today to confirm everything’s ready for the testing tomorrow,” Erdrik went on, turning his gaze to Mauriel. “It would make sense for you to join me, as their representative and main contact.”

  Mauriel sighed but immediately straightened up and wore a smile on her face. “Sure,” she chirped, “I’ll just wrap up one final thing here, and I’m ready to go.”

  “Good. I’ll be waiting outside.”

  The door leading out of the cellar hadn’t fully closed yet when Mauriel dashed into Erdrik’s office, soon returning with the bottle she had brought that morning. They used mugs from the kitchen in the absence of more elegant drinkware, and the aroma as Mauriel poured the dark liquid into them was of sweet herbs and something else that made Xandar’s eyes water.

  “Sure it’s a good idea to drink before your meeting?” Xandar asked hesitantly.

  Mauriel smirked in response, giving him a playful smile. “The meeting is exactly why I need to drink!”

  Blombo and Mauriel were already waiting outside the university’s gates when Xandar arrived, Mauriel wearing a fetching green dress, her hair meticulously arranged, and Blombo looking as presentable as his droopy hat and plain gray robes allowed. The jewelers’ guild was a short walk from the university, and they decided to gather there and proceed together. It was a crisp morning, with a pale sun and the smell of autumn in the air. Normally, such brightness would have driven Blombo to seek the dark comfort of the cellar, but on this day, he insisted on joining them. His sensitive eyes were shielded by a particularly intricate spell he had cast, a temporary solution that would, according to Blombo, leave him without the energy for another incantation for a week. But he deemed it worth the effort, all for the assurance that the project was truly complete.

  “Something’s different about you, Xandar,” Mauriel observed as he approached.

  Blombo followed her gaze. “Are those new robes?”

  Xandar opened his mouth to respond, unease and excitement mixing into a storm of butterflies in his stomach, but Mauriel saved him the need to explain. “They were new last week, Blombo. You weren’t paying attention. No, it’s something else… The hair, maybe?”

  “It does seem less messy than usual, now that you’ve mentioned it,” Blombo mused.

  “In any case, it looks nice, Xandar,” Mauriel concluded with a warm smile, causing the internal storm to intensify.

  Several minutes passed before Erdrik arrived, during which they shifted their conversation to other topics, much to Xandar’s relief. They then set off towards the guild house. They found the entirety of the jewelers guild gathered outside the building, surrounding a tall figure and bombarding him with questions. Upon closer inspection, the figure turned out to be a troll, standing eight feet tall, with an underbite and a brick-like expression upon his broad face.

  “So, now that you’ve had a proper chance to inspect it, what, in your opinion, would be the best method for scaling this building? Any specialized tools, perhaps, or-”

  The question, sounded by Morik, hung in the air, sliced through by the troll’s growl. “I climb.”

  Morik fell silent, contemplating the response with exaggerated solemnity. Another guild member stepped forward, taking Morik’s place. “And which tools do you intend to employ to test the door?”

  “I break,” came the flat reply, shutting down any further inquiries.

  “Charming fellow,” Blombo remarked. It was intended to be subtle but Blombo’s booming baritone made it loud enough for all to hear. Mauriel coughed loudly, attempting to mask the comment.

  Morik turned, noticing the group for the first time. “Unfortunately, Gorb is not a professional, so his breaking attempts will be rather improvised,” he explained. “Nevertheless, we thought it would offer insights into how well the spell caters to those of the less-humanoid persuasion.”

  Mauriel nodded, all understanding and empathy. “I assumed finding a dragonborn rogue, as you initially intended, proved to be somewhat of a challenge.”

  “You could, of course, spend several more months experimenting on any self-aware species; that is up to you,” Erdrik intervened. “But if you ask me-and I have extensive experience with this sort of thing-one example typically suffices. If it works on a troll, it will work on a dragonborn, if they were truly that determined to break in.”

  As during the previous iteration of testing, it fell upon Xandar to cast the modified and improved version of the spell on the guild house’s windows and doors. When it was time to bind the spell to a crystal, granting it sufficient energy to remain active at all times, a soft murmur rose from the part of the yard where the Dragoneye team stood. It was a shimmering ruby, larger than Erdrik’s head, glowing even beneath the overcast sky.

  “That should suffice,” Xandar heard Erdrik mutter in astonishment.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Blombo chuckled in agreement. “Forget the testing; the troll should just steal the stone and be done with it!”

  Xandar cast a careful glance over his shoulder, hoping that the remark hadn’t reached the guild members’ ears. He found them watching his every move with intense scrutiny, the troll along with them. Focusing his attention back on the crystal, he fought to disregard their stares. Being observed while he worked still made him nervous, but once the energy source was summoned, and the magical power began flowing through him, all viewing parties were forgotten. The energy rushed into the crystal with a compelling force, as if the gem thirsted for it, and soon Xandar was relieved to take his place among his team members, leaving the spectators behind.

  “Are we all set for Gorb to initiate testing?” a voice echoed from the guild ranks, to which Erdrik replied, “You’re all clear.”

  All eyes turned to the troll, who wasted no time stretching or calculating his attack. Instead, he simply retreated, eyes locked on his target, before lunging forward in a sprint. He climbed the wall in an instant, his speed too swift to follow. There was no finesse in his movements, only raw power propelling his body as he galloped up the wall on arms and legs, finally reaching the window. The alarm had barely begun when an unseen force repelled him. Both guild members and Xandar’s team rushed to the side as the hulking figure fell back down, with no unnecessary displays of aerobics, landing unharmed on the ground.

  “Interesting technique,” Mauriel whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

  The guild members seemed equally impressed; murmurs filled the air as they exchanged quiet words, though no questions or concerns were raised. Finally, a man older than Morik, sporting even larger and more square glasses, stepped forward and declared, “I believe we can conclude this part of the test.”

  Moving on to the second and final phase, they found that Gorb’s proficiency with a club didn’t falter from his climbing prowess. The wooden weapon shattered upon the second strike, erupting into a rain of wood chips and splinters in his thick hand. Gorb then concluded his demonstration by ramming the door with his shoulder, stepping aside with a calm, blunt expression and no hint of exertion on his breath.

  “Strong magic. Can’t break,” he stated plainly before walking back to the group.

  Later, as the guild members huddled to discuss the results of the test, the troll ambled towards the Dragoneye group, looming above Xandar. He instinctively flinched to the side, noticing his teammates’ tense expressions. But the troll merely cleared his throat, speaking with what must have accounted for calmness for a troll. “I hear what you say, joke that I steal rock. Prejudice against trolls, that. Could steal rock, but didn’t. Gorb has integrity.”

  With that, he turned and walked away, leaving them to stare in baffled silence.

  Mauriel hastened her steps to match Erdrik’s as they ventured outside the guildhouse. Lanterns glowed in the windows of nearby houses, coloring the descending darkness with a faint glow. “I believe a celebration is in order, don’t you think Erdrik? The project couldn’t be any more finished than this.”

  “We’ll truly be done once I file the signed acceptance document,” Erdrik waved the scroll bearing the coveted signature from the jewelers guild, signifying their approval and finalizing the project, along with the payment agreement. “Not to mention securing the payment, because protection spells or not, flaunting this much gold in rowdy taverns is asking for trouble. But yes, we can celebrate afterward.”

  They settled on the Tipsy Horse, much to Mauriel’s delight and despite Erdrik’s protests. The two bickered all the way there.

  “If a tavern is good, people want to visit it, and that, subsequently, makes it busy, and at times - as you say - rowdy. That’s the definition of good,” Mauriel was saying.

  “Quantity is not the equivalent of quality. An establishment’s worth is in its food and drink, not to mention service. The number of visitors is by no means an indication. Most people wouldn’t mind eating from a trough as long as they can get drunk on cheap ale and shout as loud as they please,” Erdrik argued fervently. His facade was as bleak as always, but he led the procession at a quick pace towards the center of town.

  They found an uncharacteristically quiet, as well as vacant, main hall inside. A sly smile crept onto Erdrik’s lips, a playful gleam in his eyes. “I take it back,” he said, sarcasm dripping from each word. “This wasn’t such a poor choice after all.”

  “Where is everyone?” Mauriel inquired of a slender waitress with fatigued lines under her eyes when she approached their table. “I’ve never seen this place so deserted.”

  The girl sighed, as if conversing was a burden too heavy to bear. “Everyone’s at the square, watching that toad-tamer from Marshville,” she said with unmasked apathy. “Now, can I take your order?”

  Erdrik was beside himself with gleeful mirth. “No, really, splendid choice, Mauriel. I have a feeling this will be a delightful evening after all!”

  Mauriel arched an eyebrow. “If she’s right, then it wouldn’t matter which tavern we picked; they’d all be empty anyway.”

  “Perhaps we should catch that show instead?” Xandar suggested, but his idea was met with resounding objections.

  “I’ve already ordered food, which I would very much like to eat, and the walk here was bad enough,” Blombo said.

  “And besides, it might still liven up later,” Mauriel added with a wink.

  The hall was still half empty when the first round of drinks arrived, but the atmosphere around the table soon brightened up, sweet ale and warm food making them forget the sparse surroundings. Even Erdrik seemed to have forsaken his customary coldness, chatting away and telling jokes. After what must have been their third round, Mauriel stood up dramatically.

  “This place needs some music,” she announced. Xandar watched her with curiosity as she strode to the center of the room and raised her arms. “Are there any musicians in the house?”

  Erdrik and Blombo turned to watch as well, surprise flickering across Erdrik’s face while Blombo let out a damp chuckle. “What’s she up to now?”

  An awkward hush hung in the air, but Mauriel stood her ground, her smile unwavering as she scanned the room. Finally, a timid voice piped up from the corner.

  “I have a harmonica,” it said.

  “And there’s a lute in the storage room,” said another. Xandar was surprised to see that the voice belonged to the waitress, though her expression and tone remained as indifferent and weary as before.

  “Perfect!” Mauriel exclaimed. The waitress brought out the lute, and the man with the harmonica hesitantly joined her, perching on the edge of a nearby table.

  “Are you familiar with ‘The Tale of The Fox and The Beaver’?” Mauriel asked the musician in a quiet voice that still carried through the empty room. The man shook his head slowly, his expression lost. “Nevermind, then, just follow my lead.”

  A few hesitant chuckles were heard as Mauriel strummed the strings. Her manner was sloppy, the technique casual at best, and the mischievous glimmer in her eyes might have suited a comedy better than a musical performance, but it all changed once she began singing. The lyrics were ridiculous, telling of a hard working yet grumpy beaver outwitted time and again by a sly, silver-tongued fox, but her voice was a revelation. There was no mistaking her elvish ancestry; each note chimed like a silver bell, pure and melodious. Beside her, the bewildered musician slowly caught on; the tune, much like the words, was simple, playful and full of rural cheer.

  Xandar looked around and found people staring at her, incredulous smiles fixated on their faces, and as if fueled by their admiration, Mauriel’s act gained momentum, a spontaneous dance accompanying the melody. Soon, patrons abandoned their seats, stamping their feet and clapping their hands. Even Blombo joined in, humming along and bobbing his head, while Erdrik emitted his bark-like laugh.

  “She surely doesn't cease to surprise,” he remarked.

  Xandar found himself unable to take his eyes off her, captivated by the curious blend of her graceful movements and the playful essence of her song. Mauriel’s gaze turned to their table for a moment, flickering from Erdrik to Blombo before it finally settled on Xandar. It was a brief glance, lasting no more than a second, yet it sent Xandar’s heart racing inexplicably, a flush rising on his cheeks. He reached for his mug of ale and raised it in salute, hoping to distract her from his unexpected embarrassment, and she winked at him in return.

  “She sure doesn’t.”