CHAPTER 5

GONE MISSING

We all have a breaking point.

Some may be greater than others, but we all have them.

Don’t beat yourself up over things you can’t control…just take a step back.

Sometimes we just need to take a breather.

Wendell slammed the shop door behind him and marched out into the market, Lili close on his heels.

“I’m not sure that was a good idea,” Lili pointed out.

“Alhannah needs that medicine….or potion…or whatEVER that stuff is that she’s been taking! And did you SEE that? Dodie knew what was ailing Alhannah. SHE KNEW!!” Wendell stopped in the path and, “GUHHHHHHH!!! How can people be so evil?!?”

Both merchants and visitors paused to stare.

“Wendell, please…calm down,” Lili urged him. “That’s not what I meant. Making the arrangements for Alhannah’s needs was very kind. I just…got the impression that making Dodie mad wasn’t the wisest idea. Chuck says she has a lot of power in the Market. People are afraid of her.”

“You know that cow?” he spat, his irritation growing. “That…that money hungry—?”

“Don’t say it. Don’t call her names, it doesn’t help, and no! I’ve…just heard rumors about her. It’s hard not to, when someone whispers her name. So I asked Chuck about some of the rumors. He said they’re true. People who trade with her tend to end up owing her favors. Those favors, I’m thinking, might not turn out so well for you if you’re not careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Well I didn’t trade her anything. She’s paid in full and a contract is signed.” He squeezed the contract scroll in his hand. “I don’t have time for this,” he said flustered, “We need to get to the Roadkill and find some help—someone to move Alhannah.”

Lili reached up tenderly and touched his hand. “Wendell?”

It was as if a valve was released from a pressure-cooker. Wendell’s legs buckled under him and his heart raced faster still. “Oh crap,” he flipped his head about to stare wide-eyed at Lili, “what have I done?!? Did I just make,” he leaned over, a dry-heave catching in his chest, “I made everything worse, didn’t I? Crap oh, crap, oh crap!”

Lili gripped his hand. “Wendell it’ll…”

“I don’t know the people here, Lili, except for maybe Wood, the tavern owner—he seems to like me some. Not that we’re friends or anything, but. Maybe I can pay him to…”

“Hey mister?”

The voice was soft and mousy.

Wendell turned and looked down to discover two tiny gnomes standing huddled together. Unkept and barefoot, the dirt on their cheeks and limbs looked out of place. Their bright and hopeful eyes looked up at him and for a moment…just a moment, Wendell could see Alhannah.

He could see his friend in their bitty pig tails and bright, beautiful eyes.

Dainty hands lifted a soft and delicate toy of scrap materials, roughly sewn together to make the cutest version of a…well, he wasn’t sure what the thing was.

Wendell reached out, took the creation and just stared at it. Moment by moment his stress and irritation melted, until his expression changed to a soft smile widening across his face.

It’s cute!

In fact, it was the cutest stuffed monster he’d ever seen. Blue checkered patterns made up one arm and the strip forming the belly of the beast, while plush white cloth formed the ears. Orange material was stitched together to create a bulbous head, containing two unmatched button eyes, two white teeth and a straw-stuffed red tongue sticking out from the mouth.

“Would you like to buy one of our dolls?” the gnome asked, hopeful.

It was a simple question.

Yet he stood, stunned, staring at the plush creation.

It took a poke from Lili before he realized the little girls were waiting for a response. Wendell looked between the little girls and gave them a smile. “What? Oh. Sorry.”

What’s wrong with me?

The pulse of the underground river, the chatter of visitors and the banter of merchants and shop owners came into focus.

Wendell inhaled through his nose, the scent of perfumes, spices and the wood fires sending chills down his back and arms.

Turning the doll in his hands, he studied it carefully.

His eyes glazed over as he stared..

The situation’s not perfect.

Fine.

So what.

Alhannah has to be moved.

Höbin has friends here. He’s respected. I’m sure I can cut a deal and pay for a place here if that’s where they want to stay.

If that doesn’t work, then I’ll take them back to the cottage where she can have whatever she needs. They can stay as long as they want—so there really isn’t a reason to fear.

I don’t have to ask ANYone for permission to make all this better!

In an instant, Wendell realized the problems weren’t really problems at all, but challenges.

Challenges were doable.

Challenges were nothing more than a test, pushing him to use his talents, resolve and resources to solve it.

For the first time in his life, Wendell had the financial means to help others also—ever since he received the money pouch.

It wasn’t technically meant for me, but it came with the mantle…so why not act like a hero in a different way?

He knelt down in front of the two little girls, holding the doll upright. “What do you call her?”

“It’s a HIM,” the older girl corrected him, “and we call him,” she stuck her tongue out and blew, “Phhhht!”

Wendell’s eyebrows shot upward…and he burst out laughing. “You call this a ‘Phhhht!?’” putting enthusiasm behind the repeated name.

It startled the gnomes at first, but they both nodded…the smaller girl clutching a miniature version of the doll close to her chest. "Daddy calls them SkrapHedz, but I like Phhhht! more."

“May I see that one?” he asked softly.

Cautiously, the young child handed the Phhhht! to him, then quickly retracted her hand back to her chest.

Slowly rotating the item in his hands, Wendell examined the Phhhht! He let his wide grin show boldly on his face.

“It’s…wonderful.”

The girls looked at one another, unsure.

“Whomever made this,” Wendell clarified, “did a really, really good job. Looks like a good deal of love went into making him.” He nodded his head slowly with each word. “That’s very important.”

“Jessie made it,” peeped the smaller girl.

The older girl flinched at the mention of her name. “Asia, SHHH! We’re not supposed to talk to strangers!”

“Then why did YOU ask him if he wanted to buy it?”

Wendell smirked. “You know, Asia’s right, Jessie—you did talk to me first.” Offering his open hand in gesture, he added, “I’m Wendell…and this is my friend, Lili. Nice to meet you.”

Lili beamed and waved at them both. “Hello.”

“See,” Asia whispered, nudging her sister, “Gnomes like him and he likes them…and now we know his name, so we can talk to him!”

Reaching out, though with an arm around her little sister—Jessie grasped two of Wendell’s fingers and shook them. “Hello.”

Wendell smiled brightly and gave the girls a quick wink. Holding the bigger version of the Phhhht! up to his face, he said, “I love this. I’d…like to buy more, if you have them.”

His smile was immediately mirrored in the girl’s faces.

“More?” Asia repeated.

Jessica beamed. “We have more.”

****

“I’m NOT crazy,” he said again.

Lili giggled, “Who said you were crazy? I never said you were crazy. Sweet and a bit odd that you bought two dozen Phhhht! from those little girls, maybe.” Giggling louder, “Oh they soooo had you wrapped around their tiny fingers!”

“Alright, alright,” Wendell grumbled, his fingers already sore from the strings that bundled the gnome creations together. But he couldn’t help grinning to himself.

The girls looked so pleased walking away with all that coin. Wendell imagined the girls bursting into some dirty hovel, displaying a handful of coins to a sick parent, who then beamed with pride and hope. Now the family would be able to afford something more to eat than snails and slugs…and daddy would have a down payment on a new leg so he could find work.

“You do realize they were lying to you, don’t you?”

Wendell looked up. “What’s that?”

Lili tried to stifle another giggle. “The girls. That story about their dad with no legs. You do realize that they were likely lying to you…to separate you from your coin.”

Wendell frowned.

“Oh come on, Wendell. Legs bitten off by a Vallen in defense of Clockworks??”

He shrugged. “It could’ve happen.”

“You have no idea what you’re going to do with them, do you?”

Wendell shrugged again and adjusted the two bundles slung over his shoulder.

Lili laughed out loud. “Did you see their faces? Those two little girls were beaming!”

Wendell chuckled then, “That was pretty fun.”

“To the Tavern?”

He nodded. “We better if we’re going to find help to move Alhannah.”

****

Roadkill Tavern was the most popular establishment in the market to find good food, drink, and if you’re lucky, an amazing story told by its resident bard.

The tavern had a distinguished reputation, reaching beyond the confines of the Black Market. Nestled up against the north western wall of the giant cave, it was also the single largest building still standing.

The giant logs seemed out of place in the subterranean environment, but only a bit more than any other building. The main structure looked outward, across the community, while eight small cabins faced inward towards the porch of the establishment. The cobblestone patio lead patrons up to the front steps where a giant and ominous-looking boars head could be found nailed to the main door, staring back.

Wendell’s first experience of the Roadkill had been a rough mixture of good food, new friends, and a nasty fight gone wrong, followed by banishment. The most memorable part of the experience was meeting the beautiful young lady now at his side.

Well, and she was a human girl at the time, not a three-foot plus gnome.

The second most memorable moment was meeting the gruff-sounding owner, Wood. A giant of a man with a stern look, powerful arms, and a mouth-watering menu.

Wendell was pleasantly surprised to discover him to be a kind and seemingly softhearted person underneath the black beard, facial scars, and eye patch.

He pulled opened the front door with confidence and held it open for Lili.

“Thank you,” she smiled up at him.

The small smily face on his cloak broach blushed red.

It was mid day in the market, which Wendell knew due to the curious clock hanging over the taverns bar. The oval-shaped disk, black on the top half, cream on the lower half, sat at the high point of the walls arch. Inscribed along the bottom section was the word ‘open’, while painted in white across the blackness read ‘closed’. A single red slash over a portion of the blackness contained a third label—‘last call’.

This directly translated into the number and quality of patrons parked in the tavern.

Mornings brought locals for a hearty meal to kick off the workday, while as the day wore on the tavern filled with hungry merchants and visitors about to start their purchasing adventures, or just finishing the same. Evenings were an event all on their own—usually packing the tavern from wall to wall, many accepting standing room only to get a drink…or listen to Terrin, the local bard.

The main hall was nearly filled to capacity, but Wendell spotted people leaving a corner booth by the hearth.

“Wow,” he grunted, quickly setting his bag down as they slid into their seats. “Big crowd today.”

“You’ve come a long way, you know,” Lili said aloud.

“What?” Wendell replied, only half paying attention. He waved at one of the serving girls until he got her attention. Wood was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s only been months since we first met and you’ve…changed.” The soft tone of Lili’s voice pulled his eyes back to her. “You’re more confident. More sure of yourself. It…looks good on you.”

Wendell wasn’t sure what to make of the way she was staring at him. But he liked it.

A lot.

Is she…actually paying attention to me now? Butterflies danced in his stomach and he felt blood rush to his cheeks. How does she DO this to me?!? But he didn’t really care. It was progress. Progress he didn’t want to mess up.

“Thanks,” was all that came out, though he did try an awkward smile.

For a few moments they both sat there. Wendell shifting the spoon around on the table with his fingers, while Lili folded and unfolded an off-white napkin.

“You know,” Wendell finally broke the ice, “you’ve changed a lot too.” It was true. Lili had first looked at Wendell with disdain…almost disgust when they’d first met, here, in the market. Yet over the past few months, she’d softened a great deal—and her distrust and fear of gnomes had all but faded…even for their technology. Just about anything made by a gnome seemed to be taboo among other races. Wendell smiled and tried not to stare at her, though he wanted to.

“Really?” she smiled, “You think so?”

He nodded, “Knowing you as I do now, I never would have guessed you were a thief or destroyed one of the Demoni Vankil seals.”

Lili’s smile vanished.

“THERE you are!” Chuck gasped, jogging up to the table, his small gnome arms tugging his monstrously-long beard behind him. “Bout time I found you two…” He huffed and puffed, trying to catch his breath. His chubby gnome face was bright red, beads of sweat rolling from under his hat and over his cheeks.

“You okay?” Wendell grinned, patting the old mägo’s shoulder. “Sit down and rest, Chuck, you look like…”

“Can’t wait to get OUT of this form,” he cut in—but he paused, glancing over at Lili still stuck as a gnome. “You however, look pretty good as a midget.”

Lili rolled her eyes.

He shrugged, “Just a thought. ANYway…went to see ‘Hannah, poor girl—she looks a fight, but not as frightful as the booga-booga woman,” he glared up at them with wide eyes. “Things that make you go EWWW, if you know what I mean,” he shuddered. “But since you weren’t there, I went back to Togs and found the boys. Course, wasn’t hard to do when you’re walking with a grinning blue giant, eh?” Another deep breath, “Which leads me to my next news—I need to leave you with Elder Blueberry, if that’s okay?”

“Käshen,” Wendell corrected him.

“Gesundheit. Look kids, I met with Iyl-Tandril, one of the Gypsy leaders of the Market and we came up with a plan for all our little friends. Things should work out for the gnomes stuck out in the cavern…but I have to run a few errands to seal the deal. So if you don’t mind, could you grab a ride home with Elder Blueberry?”

“Käshen.”

“You really should keep a tissue near by, son. I think you might be catching a cold.”

Wendell shook his head, “It’s his name, Chuck.”

“Whose name?”

“The Elders name.”

“The Elder Blueberry with our gnome friends?”

Now it was the smiley-engraved broach that rolled its eyes. “Yes, him. His name is Käshen.”

The wizard paused. “Huh. Guess you learn something new every day. Though next time I’d like to learn something that’s actually interesting if you don’t mind.” He patted Wendell’s forearm, “That’s a good boy.”

Lili buried her face in her hands and giggled.

Not missing a beat, “I have to leave right now if I’m to make my appointment, son—but if I’m lucky, I may have a way to help ‘Hannah AND repair my trusty staff.” He paused, index finger upright in making a point, and then “Oh! Also a little heads up—once we get all those musty meetings out of the way, the three of us should prepare for the events in Andilain. There’s festivals coming that I don’t want to miss!”

Lili swallowed hard and averted her eyes.

Wendell frowned. “Why don’t you just buy a new staff? I’m sure someone in the market sells staves, don’t they?”

The mägo stared at Wendell shocked, as if he’d been slapped across the face. His brows popped upward, arching towards the ceiling, his top lip quivering. Just as he looked as if he might actually cry, Chuck threw his beard hastily over his shoulder and marched off.

“I’ll be back when I’m back!” he yelled defiantly, smacking dwarves and elves out of his way with his cane as he marched to the front door. Patrons yelled and made rather unsavory hand gestures at the gnome-wizard, which he ignored. With a wave of his tiny hand, the huge door flung open and Chuck vanished out of sight.

Those along the old gnomes path slowly looked over to stare warily at Wendell.

Lili scowled and pinched his arm as hard as she could.

“OW! What was that for?”

“For being insensitive! Did you have to say that?”

“Say what?”

“Telling Chuck to buy a new staff.”

What is the big… “What’s wrong with what I said? It was only a suggestion, not a criticism. He seems to be a bit out of place without a staff and I was only thinking he should, I don’t know, find a shop in here that sells them and grab a new one, that’s all.”

“You have no idea what that staff means to him, do you?”

“What, and you do?”

Lili’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, yes. Yes I do know. Trapped in this body, scared half to death most of the time we were gone, I was forced to live in a way that was against everything I was brought up to believe. Chuck reached out to me.” Her expression softened, to an almost pleading look. “He took the time to talk me, Wendell. Helped me address my fears, to understand what was going on around me and why. So when I saw him weighed down with stress, worrying about your welfare, I reached out to him.”

Sitting back in the booth, Lili strummed her fingers along the edge of the table. “He shared things from time to time. Nothing secretive, but a casual story here or a fact there. Something about his past, when no one else seemed to be around.”

Wendell suddenly felt very small. For all the time they’d been together, he’d rarely asked Chuck personal questions. The mägo always seemed so secretive and avoided direct answers to most things anyway.

Lili leaned forward, stretching her tiny arms across the table until she could give Wendell’s hand a small squeeze. When he looked up, her brown eyes engulfed his own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be snapping at you. It’s just…all this time around a great man like Chuck and you haven’t learned the simple things that make him tick, have you?” Her eyes grew moist. “He never looks happier than when he talks about you, did you know that?”

“What?”

The soft curves of her lips rolled into a tender smile. “He beams when he shares how brave he thinks you are. He brags about how you’re doing so much better than people realize, and that sticking around with this mantle on your shoulders, after all you’ve been through, is the bravest thing he’s ever seen.”

Wendell opened his mouth…but nothing came out.

They shared meals, traveled together…and they’d enjoyed many personal conversations. But when he thought about it, Wendell didn’t actually know a whole lot about Chuck.

Come to think of it, there weren’t too many times he’d ever seen Chuck without his trusty staff.

“What’s so special about his staff?” He forced a smile to his face, “If you don’t mind sharing…”

She gave him a small smirk. “I know that it’s one of the most important possessions he owns. I know it’s been in his family for six generations. I know all the men in his family have been mägo…and I know that the staff has been the only thing passed down over time. All from father to son. It’s always been the last surviving possession left.”

Wendell’s stomach sank.

You’re an idiot, Wendell. You just offended one of the most important people in your life. And then, “Mahan’s Pink Panties.”

Lili coughed loudly, then started laughing. “What did you just say?”

“Mahan’s….oh, yeah.” He shrugged. “Guess the old guy’s been rubbing off on me.”

Her penetrating stare burned through him, “He seems to do that to all of us.”

“Yeah.”

Another squeeze of his hand, “That staff is the only thing he has to remember his own father, Wendell. It’s also what he wanted to leave to his son. That’s why it’s so important to him.” She watched Wendell for a moment, slowly letting go of his hand, and then, “I assumed you of all people, would have known that.”

Wendell shook his head. “I didn’t.”

Lili sighed. “Thank you for the offer of lunch, Wendell, but I’m not feeling hungry at the moment. I think we have a mutual friend who needs me right now.” Placing her napkin on the table, Lili hopped down from the booth.

“Lili…”

She turned, her face contorting in thought.

Wendell gave her the best genuine smile he could manage. “I’m sorry…and…thank you.”

She cocked her head to the said, “Thank you?”

He nodded, “For being honest. I needed to hear that about Chuck. The last thing I want to do is hurt those I care about most. So…thank you.”

She considered his words for a few moments, then gave a single nod and walked out of the tavern.

Wendell watched her go.

You really have a gift, he criticized himself, just when you think you’re finally making progress, you tumble down the hill backwards. Stupid, ignorant…

He took a breath.

So now Lili was disappointed in him, and Chuck was hurt. Dax was home with the Iskari, near death, Alhannah and Höbin driven to poverty through the deceptive acts of a harpy.

To add to the pressure, no matter how Wendell felt, as soon as he returned to Sanctuary the Iskari High Council would probably try to send him somewhere else to do who knows what.

A low grumble of frustration emanated from Wendell’s chest as he sat, pondering his current fate. There was no rest, no escape, no peace, regardless of where he turned now.

His hands gripped the spoon in a choke hold, knuckles turning white.

This isn’t going to end. He clenched his jaw tight. You can’t blame them, Wendell. You chose this. You agreed. No one could have seen what was going to happen to you. No one forced you to do this, either. They would have taken you home. To your old life.

The thought hit him in the chest.

His old life.

What was his old life? The school geek. The outcast. The awkward guy no girl wanted to associate with.

It was embarrassing just to think about it.

Be honest with yourself, Wendell. You couldn’t find a job. You weren’t even on the same page as Evan with ‘The Plan’. Moving into the camping trailer in the backyard wasn’t the same as getting his own apartment.

Wendell couldn’t help but grumble.

Each truth was torture.

He let go of the spoon with a dull clang on the tables surface and reached into his cloak. He gave the small money pouch a squeeze.

Ever since he was a teen he’d thought about getting a job and earning enough to buy a car. A Baja Bug…that was the goal. Something odd, unique…with a hint of coolness. Metallic blue, or maybe a polished black, oversized tires front and back and off road lights. Maybe a custom stereo system—take out the back seat and install some oversized speakers. Something to impress the girls.

If he could afford it, that was.

He gave the pouch another squeeze. Now he could afford almost anything.

A gift of untold wealth, without having to ask for it.

His fingers walked over the fat bundles of toys dolls sitting next to him. Wealth he could now share with those less fortunate.

Too bad I can’t send any home to mom.

“I thought that was you, young Wendell.”

Wendell looked up to see giant hands rubbing grease and butter onto the dull white cloth attached to a broad belt. A single dark eye peered down over a mountain of a belly.

Wendell gave the man a warm, yet weak smile. “Hello, Wood.”

“I don’t know what I can do to uplift such a mood, my friend—but we can get you a new spoon, at least.” The Tavern owner frowned, perplexed, as he picked up the scrunched slab of metal, now completely unrecognizable as a utensil.

Wendell gulped as he noticed the mangled spoon. Did I do that!??

“Wonder what my girls were thinking, setting this out here…” Wood grumbled as he slipped it into his apron pouch. “What can I get for you today, my young friend? We have goat steaks and a fresh crop of bane greens and snake potatoes if your interested?” The large man stood immovable, waiting expectantly.

Wendell couldn’t help but notice that Wood smelled pleasantly of butter and spices.

“I’m…not even sure what those are, Wood. I’m sorry.”

The owner chuckled, “I forget, you’re still relatively new to the market. People usually order for you, don’t they?”

Wendell nodded.

“Well if I remember correctly, and I usually do…you and Dax had the daily special…as he usually does. That’s käärunä, or what we call snake potato. Starchy, but very good once I’ve boiled them a spell—hardy eating. The bane greens are a leafy plant grown deeper in the caves. They can get quite bitter if left to grow too long, but I slowly leach that out with salt water overnight, then fry it up with spices. The texture is much better than the younger greens and the result tastes good enough that it’s become a patron favorite.”

Wendell’s stomach suddenly groaned in protest of being ignored. “That does sound good. I’ll take a plate and…” he hesitated. “Do you have any regular milk?”

Wood’s brow raised, “Regular?”

Shrugging, “Like from a cow?”

“Cows won’t survive down here for long, but I do have cold goats milk if you like. They’re bane fed, so the milk tastes clean and creamy. I keep it ice cold in river water.”

Wendell smiled. Just the thought of something as simple as milk sounded like heaven. “I’ll take it. Extra large please.”

“Coming right up,” and Wood turned to leave.

“Oh, Wood?”

The tavern owner stopped.

“You know Höbin and his daughter Alhannah, don’t you?”

“I do. Known that old gnome for many years—first as a patron, then as a tenant. Why?”

Wendell wasn’t sure how to bring up the issues without causing more problems or exposing his friends to more attention than they might want.

“I…uhhhh…”

Wood scratched the jet black beard on his chin, “Sorry to hear about the girl. Not just the illness, but having to deal with the witch.”

Wendell let himself fall back against the bench, the smiley face on the branch openly shocked. “You heard?”

Wood nodded slowly. “Hard not to hear things in a place like the Market—but it pays for me to keep my ears open. This tavern has become the heartbeat of the market.” He gave Wendell a broad grin, “People love to talk when their bellies are full..”

Wendell ran his fingers through his hair. He had limited time to solve the problem he initiated.

“They’re my friends, Wood, and I was wondering if I could rent…or lease…a room here? Biggest one you have available?” Looking up at the tavern owner, his expression melted away to one of near pleading. “I can pay you a year in advance—so they don’t have to worry about a roof over their head or food to eat. I want someone to take care of Höbin, so he can take care of his daughter. I already paid a hundred gold for medicine that should keep Alhannah…”

Wood choked, “A hundred gold?”

Wendell frowned, “Dodie said the medicine was very rare and expensive.”

“Wendell,” Wood scratched his head, “when you paid me six gold coin for Dax’s damages to this tavern, you not only paid for the repairs in full, you gave me a hefty profit. More than I would make in a year on five patrons for food and drink!”

A years profit? Wendell scratched his head. “Why is everything so expensive in the Market, except here in your tavern? Potions and the clothes I bought,” he tugged at his cloak and the smiley face flinched. “I’m starting to feel like I’m being taken advantage of.” Thoughts of Dax’s warnings ran through his mind.

Wood’s face softened, “Looks like you’ve got some expensive tastes, that’s all. I’m a simple man myself. My patrons for the most part are also simple folk. I run a simple business. Food, drink and lodging. That’s it. No special ingredients, no complicated costs. People gotta eat, drink, and sleep, so I always have customers. Be frugal with yer coin and it adds up over time.

“Now there are shops here in the Market that are worth every coin because of what they provide. Perspicacious is such a place, owned by Dathern Istul.”

“We’ve met. Very nice man.”

“Aye, he is. And there are other places that deal in rare goods, so I can see why prices could be high, but there are those who prey on people with coin in various forms. You have to realize that the Black Market is a place where criminals have fled the law.” Wood cocked his head to the side and raised a jet black eyebrow, “The only thing keeping many of them in check is Gypsy law.”

It made sense. Wendell hadn’t taken the time to learn about money or the value of things, so he didn’t have knowledge to rely on, other than a merchants word.

Which left him at the mercy of every dishonest person he met.

“I’m willing to pay anything I have to help my friends, Wood. Maybe you know of someone I could hire to help me? I have problems to solve—but I’m starting to see that throwing coin at them might not be the best path.”

Now it was the tavern owner who frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Dodie threatened to throw Alhannah into the street at the end of business today if I don’t find a place for her.”

The tan skin of Woods face flushes a deep red. “Did she now?!” he growled. Hands yanked the rag from his apron, then gripped it tight—wringing it forcefully. Looking over his shoulder, he yelled, “ARIT!”

The deep base of his voice shook the room, causing drinks to spill and utensils to clatter as they hit the table and floor…and silence fell upon the tavern.

A mousey young man with a hunched shoulder and a severe limp hobbled up behind wood, wiping his own hands on a dirty brown rag. From his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail and the olive skin, Wendell guessed him to be one of the locals.

“Yes, boss?” Arit grinned as the tavern resumed it own affairs.

Without taking his eyes off Wendell, Wood grumbled. “Grab the boys from the back and clean out the storage room upstairs. Put the crates in with the rum barrels and then scrub the room. Clean the hearth and move the table from my study in there with three chairs. Pick up two new rugs from Mitul at ‘Floor Cloth for Her’. When that’s done, move Mr. Luckfeller’s belongings into the new room.”

“Sir.”

“Arit, when you’re done, grab a crew from the fields and meet back here. We need to retrieve a very fragile package from Inimitable Essentials.”

The boys eyes grew wide with panic.

“Not to worry, Arit, I’ll be going with you,” Wood added.

The youth relaxed.

Wendell couldn’t help but wonder what Dodie had done to earn such a reputation. If she was so dangerous, why was she still allowed to be in the Black Market?

“They’ll need a second bed,” Wendell added, “Alhannah’s in really bad shape. Is there somewhere we can…”

Wood reached out and grabbed Arit’s arm before the young man walked away. “Send Olair up to Furnishings & Fittings. Tell Coleman I need another bed.” He gave Wendell a glance. “Extra big, extra soft and a double set of pillows. Bring me the bills.”

“Yes boss.”

Without looking back, Arit pulled his apron off, tossed it over the bar counter and scurried off like a man on a mission.

“I appreciate your help, Wood, but I can go pay…”

Wood cut him off, “I’ll make the arrangements with vendors and merchants, Wendell, if you don’t mind. I know them all and they wouldn’t dare cheat me. Allow me to work on your behalf, alright?”

Wendell found it hard to look the tavern owner in the face. “I…don’t know what to say,” he choked out.

“Good and honest men are hard to find in this world. In the Black Market, even more so. Höbin is my friend and I know what it’s like to worry about family, young Wendell,” then grinning, “Let me get you some food and we’ll talk fair prices, alright? I’ll send Gwen over with your cold milk.”

The giant man walked away, flinging his twisted rag over one shoulder. As he made his way back to the kitchen, he nodded and greeted patrons, waving to those appearing through the front door. The smile he gave each was warm, friendly, and completely authentic.

He treats each person as if they’re the world to him.

It was something Wendell couldn’t help but admire.

Wendell sat in silence for a spell, watching the sea of faces around him. Patrons and a few newcomers just as impressed and excited as he was when he’d first come to the Roadkill.

Dwarves, elves, gnomes, humans, and races he couldn’t identify, gathered about tables peacefully, sharing words, food and drink. Blue skin, black skin, red, and a golden sheen…and they fascinated Wendell.

Every one of those faces has a story behind it. Stories and needs which they bring to a simple, kind tavern owner, who greets them with a smile and service.

It was a beautiful thing. Wood was a pillar of strength in the midst of deceit, cruelty, and something he wished he could obtain himself. That was as plain as the expression on Arit’s face.

Woods a real hero and he doesn’t even know it. Doing things for those who can’t do them for themselves, he gritted his teeth, that’s the example I needed. For now he’d use the money given to him to make Alhannah and her father comfortable and when Chuck got back…

Chuck.

Wendell felt a wave of nausea hit him in the stomach.

Lili was right. For all the kindness Chuck has shown…for all… He’d not only messed up, but that look. The look in the mägo’s eye before he’d stomped off—it was something more.

I betrayed his trust. His confidence in me. That’s the problem. He’s treated me like a son and I just belittled his pain.

“Here you go, dear,” the serving maid smiled. The giant plate was overburdened with meats, spiced potatoes and steaming greens.

“Woah,” Wendell gasped, “that’s a LOT of food.”

The girl chuckled, “We don’t skimp around here. You always get what you pay for…and a little extra,” she winked. “Wood says he’s having to move the crates for Höbin himself, so he’ll be out before you’re done eating.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, I forgot your milk!” Snapping her fingers, “I’ll go get that now.”

Wendell pulled the plate closer to him. “Gwen?”

Gwen turned gracefully with a smile, “That’s me.”

“Thank you.”

Her smile grew wider. “You are very welcome. I’ll be right back with that milk. Extra large.”

****

Wood appeared with a yellow legal pad and a ball-point pen (two of the many gnome gifts given to the tavern owner), and went over the actual costs with Wendell.

What’s more, Wood showed him how the Luckyfeller’s could have anything they required for only a fraction of what Wendell imagined. His plan was not only doable, Alhannah would now have a much better chance of getting better. Everyone involved, much to Wendell’s surprise, would also make a profit—which ensured the jobs would be done and done to specifications.

Wendell pulled out enough coin for a year and placed it on the table. Then he made a small stack of silver coins next to it.

“That’s too much, Wendell. I explained that.”

Wendell held up a hand. “It’s a ‘just in case’ fund, that’s all. To give Höbin a little extra when he needs it.”

Wood smirked, “A tab?”

Wendell mirrored the smirk. “Exactly. Make it open-ended, for those not-so-great days. If this gets used, give me the bill and I’ll cover it when I get back.”

Wood laughed then, “For that much silver Höbin could drink himself into a coma. You’re a kind young man, Wendell.”

Shaking his head, “No, I’m really not. But thank you.”

The big man rapped his knuckles on the table, “If you’ll excuse me then—I still have patrons to attend to.”

“I do have one last question for you, if you don’t mind?”

Wood stood upright and stretched his arms. “Ask away.”

“I’m wondering if you would be interested in assisting me, in doing more good around here.” Wendell watched the jet black brows wrestle for a moment on the mans face, then added, “I want to help those who can’t help themselves. Like the little gnome girls who made these,” and he patted the two bundles next to him.

Eyeing the stuffed dolls, “I was wondering what those were. May I?”

Wendell pulled a Phhhht! free and handed it over.

Giant fingers turned and prodded the tiny creation with a surprising gentleness. “What a lovely little doll.”

“It’s called a Phhhht!”

The tavern owner chuckled, “A what?”

Wendell made the raspberry sound even louder. “It’s a PHHHHT!”

Raising the doll up to his good eye, “Oh, this is a gnome creation alright.”

“Do you think you could find anyone who could use these, or enjoy them?”

Wood pondered for a moment. “We do have a great number of street urchins. They might enjoy having something to play with besides dirt and dead slugs. If you’d like, I can hand these over to the guards—maybe take them back to their village. Give them to the mothers?”

Wendell set the batches on the table, then pulled one out for himself. “Sounds perfect. I’d like to start working with the locals,” he paused, trying formulate his ideas. “It’s more of a desire right now than a plan, Wood, but I have some funds, and you have connections. I’m wondering if you would you be interested in a partnership or sorts.”

The big man scratched the beard on his face. “Partnership?”

“To make this market a better community for everyone?” Shrugging, “I don’t know—maybe this sounds crazy, but I just think people should take better care of one another. Life is hard enough without turning on each other. So I’m thinking I’d like to find some ways fo helping the folks who just can’t seem to help themselves.” He looked up sheepishly, “I keep thinking that if I had some help, some good things could be done—like selling handmade goods to folks topside?”

Leaning down, Wood thrust out his giant hand. “That, my young friend, is one of the best ideas I’ve heard since I opened this tavern.” Gripping Wendell’s had firmly, he grinned wide. “Yes, young Wendell. I would like to work with you very much indeed.”

Wendell beamed.

****

With the Luckyfeller’s situation covered and Woods acceptance of Wendells idea, the day was starting to look up.

That is, until Wendell realized that as soon as he returned to Sanctuary, the Iskari High Council would start clawing at him and thrusting him into meetings.

It wasn’t that Delnar or the Elders were doing anything wrong. They weren’t. The Council was doing what it was meant to do—protect others—and Wendell was a key part of that charge. The Iskari High Council were the keepers of the  Ithari. As the ‘hero’ and host of the gem, the Council was now Wendell’s ring of personal advisors.

He’d likely be instructed in the current situations occurring abroad, be given various counsel and most likely sent on a mission to do something awkward, uncomfortable…not to mention incredibly dangerous.

Without Dax, without Alhannah.

…likely without Chuck either.

Wendell wondered if it was Monday.

What he couldn’t shake was the letter sitting back in his room.

Run, it said. He wondered why.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

“Please Hadden,” the woman’s voice pleaded, just a bit too loudly. Her tone was stressed and quivering.

Wendell paused, ears twitching..

Though he couldn’t see the people in the booth next to him, he could most certainly hear the sobbing through the high-back seats.

“Isma, I don’t have a choice. It’s my job,” soothed a deep voice. “Can’t you be happy that I brought you with me this trip? I know it’s not the nicest place, but we’re together and we’re…”

“Not where we should be!” Isma exclaimed. “Bridger and his partner are stealing from you and you know it.”

“You don’t know that, Is..”

“Oh don’t I? They’re hurting your connections with the merchants and apothecary to help that McGlynn woman! She wants our farm, Hadden. I knew it the moment those men showed up to buy our last herb crop. Yet you continue to work for them, growing plants we know little about, hoping they’ll peddle your goods and…oh, for goodness sakes, Hadden,” she dropped her tone to a breathy whisper, “we can’t even pay for this meal!”

Wendell almost choked on his milk. The thought of anyone being used and manipulated by the shop owner turned Wendell’s stomach.

“I’ll think of something,” Hadden reassured her. “I can use some of the seed money and just sell a few…”

The sobbing grew. “No! The more you use, the longer it will take us to be free of those horrid people!!”

“Isma, keep your voice down,” he scolded her. “People are looking.”

“Let them!” she sniffed. “We have a beautiful mountain farm and all we need, but you wanted to make more money for…what? What did you tell me, Hadden…”

There was a short pause, then, “To make you happy and buy you things.”

“Do I look happy?” she pleaded, “I rarely see you anymore since you started peddling that…that…”

“Isma..”

“Evil! That’s what it is! Our farm was respected because you provided the finest and freshest healing herbs from our soil. Now you’re growing plants that hurt people. Plus that McGlynn woman keeps raising her price on the seeds we need. None of this makes any sense! It makes you look bad, Hadden. This is beneath you. Beneath your honor.”

Wendell quietly set his mug on the table and slid across the bench to get closer to the other booth.

“Honor? What honor?!” Hadden hissed under his breath, “I’m caught in a contract I can’t meet and if the crops don’t fully bloom this time, they’ll attach my debt to the farm!” His voice faltered, “We’ll have nothing, Isma. No farm. No life.”

The conversation died out, while the sobbing increased.

It wasn’t until the talking stopped that Wendell realized he was intentionally eavesdropping.

The situation seemed so much like Alhannah and her father. Caught in the clutches of the same woman who seemed to find pleasure in owning people’s lives. Dodie McGlynn had no regard for others. She didn’t care about the suffering she inflicted. She was an animal who craved the flesh of the innocent.

It made Wendell sick to his stomach.

Glancing to his left, he noticed a single face who had witnessed the distress of the couple. The old storyteller, sitting comfortably in his large leather chair, perched by the roaring fire in the hearth.

The old man took a draw from a long cherrywood pipe, giving Wendell a weak smile. He then nodded in the direction of the couple and shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry, Isma…I wanted to build a better life for us. To not have to struggle so hard all the time, and provide more than lean winters. I…thought I’d be able to grow these new crops once and then get back to our regular business. That’s what they promised me.”

“But it didn’t work out the way you planned, did it,” she sniffed.

“No,” Hadden said sadly, “it didn’t.”

“It wouldn’t be so difficult for me, Hadden, if they respected you. If what you were harvesting didn’t seem to offend the merchants that rely on you.” She paused, “Did you notice their faces? How Ainsley looked so shocked when you showed him what you had to offer this season?” She paused again, “These people are using you up…and if you don’t do something soon, there will be nothing left of you.”

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

“Then maybe it’s time I take matters into my own hands,” Hadden whispered loudly. “I say we pay this meal, grab our gate key and lets’ go home. I don’t know what I’ll do, but we’ll figure something out after you and I spend some time alone, on the farm. First thing we’ll do is plant what we know and what people need.”

There was a high-pitched squeal. “Really!?!”

“Really.”

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

“Excuse me,” Wendell said softly, stepping into view. “I don’t mean to be nosey, but I couldn’t help overhearing from the booth behind you that you’re a merchant?”

“Uh, no,” Hadden replied, “just a seller.” He was a healthy, strapping man—broad, muscular shoulders, barrel chest with a tan face and hands. The kind of health you gained working long hours in the fields. Both he and Isma looked at Wendell curiously. “Well,” he corrected himself with a glance to his female companion, “I’m actually a farmer. Healing herbs. That’s what I grow. Freshest and strongest in East Andilain.”

Isma beamed with pride.

“Right, uh,” Wendell stammered, searching for the right words. “First off, I’d like to buy your meal, if that’s alright. It’s a custom where I come from. We offer to pay for a meal when people talk business.”

Isma beamed and squeezed Hadden’s hand. She was a golden blonde with a round face and near flawless complexion. Her companion, however, looked leery.

“Business?” he said with a drawl. “And second?”

Wendell looked between them and took a deep breath. He goes everything. “I’m wondering if I could hire you...”