I dropped my arms. “He invited thousands of elves we don’t know to our wedding? How many presents does one dragon need?”
We were going to have a chat before he went off on his exotic-animals hunt. A thorough chat.
“The impression I had was that he was pleased and proud and wanted everyone who was interested to come and witness the festival.”
“Oh.” I was glad he was pleased about the whole affair, but it had been bad enough when he’d invited the ogres.
“If it soothes your mind, I am certain that few of the elves who aren’t related to you will come. It is possible that my mother will to ensure that your mother will not attempt anything… untoward to our father.”
“Make a pass at him, you mean? My mom is seventy. I’m positive she can control her libido.”
Freysha nodded. “I also do not believe that she—or my father—would do anything inappropriate. It’s possible that my mother is the one who sent someone to observe and interview your mother. If that is true, it is…”
“Petty? She got the guy, and she’ll live centuries longer than my mother. Why is she even worried about it?”
“She should not be. If Lord Zavryd will deign to open a portal for me, I will go home and discuss this situation with my parents.”
“Let me know if I can send an electric cattle prod along.”
Freysha probably didn’t know what that was, but she smiled. Then she looked around thoughtfully. “This may be a better place to set a trap for your thief than your well-defended home in town. It is likely she has already visited it and noticed the various protections around it.”
I imagined an identical tree in my neighborhood with a half-dwarf crouched on a branch, peering through the windows at me.
“She would be foolish to attempt to breach Lord Zavryd’s defenses,” Freysha added.
“I don’t know about that. The assassin tore them down.”
“He has substantial magical training. If this thief was born here on Earth, she is likely similar in talent to you, perhaps even less able if she has not found a teacher.” Freysha splayed her hand on her chest.
“She’s just got a lot of powerful artifacts.”
Someone had created those undead minions.
“Not unlike you. You may be facing off against your—what is the human word?—doppelgänger.”
“Except she’s short, dark-skinned, and dark-haired instead of lanky and blonde. And a thief. I’m not a thief.” No matter what people kept saying about my sword…
“Of course not,” Freysha agreed politely. “But if she wants your sword—that is her goal, yes?—and if you’re willing to stay here and visit with your mother for a time, perhaps she would be lured in to attack you in this place with few magical defenses.”
“Are you forgetting the gargoyles in the Jeep?”
“Perhaps you could take your time setting them up.”
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying. And there’s no reason I couldn’t stay for a bit. Mom should appreciate having a little company.”
“Excellent. Before leaving, I will set a few traps and ponder a way to lure her to those specific places.” She eyed the tree, her expression thoughtful again.
“How do half-dwarves feel about chocolates?”
A few days back, per my agreement with the fae queen, I’d left some boxes of caramels and fudge in the fairy ring in the front yard. With no way to communicate to the fae that they were there, I hadn’t expected anything to happen to them, but someone had activated the magical doorway in the middle of the night, only for a few seconds, and the boxes had been gone by the time I looked out the window.
“I do not know,” Freysha said, “but that would be suspicious, would it not? I believe the sword itself may be sufficient bait. And she may wish to spy upon you before attempting to get it, so I will seek out the places such as this that offer good vantage points.”
“Do you need me to get the ropes out of the Jeep? Or anything else? Gondo thinks highly of aluminum cans.”
“I will make my own ropes.” Freysha wiggled her fingers and didn’t comment on the cans.
“Vines aren’t native to the area.”
“They will blend in.”
“All right. Thanks. Anything I can do to help?” I felt guilty about standing around while someone else did work for me.
“It would perhaps be better if you are not near me and do not draw attention to what I’m doing.” Freysha lowered her voice. “She could be out here even as we speak. I will be stealthy.”
Exuberant woofing came from the trail, and Sindari sighed into my mind.
Rocket bounded into view, tail wagging hard enough to knock leaves off the bushes, and ran to greet us. I patted him, Freysha patted him, and Sindari made a point of sniffing things and keeping his back to the dog, his tail high in the air in a show of aloofness.
That didn’t keep Rocket from leaving us to bound all around Sindari, then drop his forelegs to the ground in a bow, tail swishing as he woofed. Sindari turned his back on him again. Rocket scooted back, still in the bow position, and woofed again.
“So much for stealth,” I said.
Sindari gave me an aggrieved expression. What is wrong with this slobbering canine?
“You know he wants you to play with him.”
And you know that regal, majestic tigers of the Tangled Tundra Nation do not play.
“Are you sure? Rocket looks fun.”
The golden retriever bounded to a leaf pile and dove into it. Even though the leaves were soggy, he managed to fling them all over the place as he flopped down and rolled on his back, all four paws in the air.
That is not fun, Sindari informed me. That is ridiculous. It is possible he is afflicted with mental impairment.
“Not everybody strives to be regal, you know.”
They should. No prey would take that seriously.
I waved for Sindari, and hopefully Rocket, to follow me back to the house, so Freysha could set her traps. Before we made it to the entrance of the backyard, my phone buzzed with a text from Nin. I saw that I’d also missed a call from her. I hadn’t heard it; the reception out here was sketchy.
I am investigating the baker, Nin’s message read. I believe I am barking up the right tree.
A squirrel chattered at us from a branch, and Rocket ran over, put his forefeet on the trunk, and barked at it.
An appropriate thing to do today, I texted back, not trusting the reception to let me make a call. What did you find? Did you question her?
I only managed to speak to her for a moment before she closed the door and said she was not interested. She has four deadbolts on her door that she thunked into place. This neighborhood is not known to be dangerous.
She wasn’t interested? Are you posing as a door-to-door saleswoman?
I am giving away buy-one-get-one-free offers for my food truck to the occupants of select houses on this street.
The street where the baker lives?
Yes. She refused to answer questions, especially when I brought up the coffee shop, but her neighbors like to gossip. It seems that her deceased acquaintance, Charlie Wu, was a former boyfriend. The neighbors believe from repeated noisy arguments, and sounds of things breaking, that he abused her. She broke up with him, but he did not take it well and kept coming back. He slept in his car in front of her house a few times. She started dating someone else, and the two men ended up fighting on the sidewalk in front of the baker’s house.