Page 121 of Brigands & Breadknives
Fern had mostly toured around while he worked and, of course, spent time with her notebooks.
“So,” he said, rousing her from her reverie. “How’s the new one coming?” He bumped her satchel with his hip.
“The book?” she asked. “I don’t know. I’ve been writing down the things that happened in Murk when I was young, but I’m not sure if there’s enough there to warrant the effort.”
“From what you’ve already told me, I don’t doubt there is.”
“Maybe I should write downouradventures instead.”
He looked thoughtful, putting a finger to his chin. “Crimes of illicit autographydosound compelling.”
“Hush.” Fern gave him a peck on the cheek. She still loved the way he smelled.
“Of course, if you need some fresh material, there’s always this . . .” Quillin gently tapped Astryx’s bracelet where it hung against her chest. She’d had it strung onto a necklace.
As they strolled down the curving street in the warm summer night, Fern scooped the bracelet up so that it rested in one paw, gleaming and delicate. It had almost no weight at all.
“Maybe someday,” she said. “I’m not tired of you just yet, though. Give me a week?”
They both laughed, but Fern didn’t release the bracelet.
She wondered where the last wrist was that had worn it. Fern thought she sometimes caught hints of Zyll’s passage through the Territory in news of unexpected mayhem or preposterous coincidence, but she could never be absolutelysure.
Of Astryx, there had been much more to hear. She wondered if it had been partly because of her book—although she didn’t flatter herself that it was read so widely yet—but the Oathmaiden was the subject of more and more frequent news. Surprisingly, many of the adventures relayed were small. And thetoneof these stories was transformed. People spoke of the woman they met after the deeds were done, rather than the deeds themselves. Of a reassuring touch, or a concerned question. Of grace, and little kindnesses. Of beingseenby her.
Fern wondered if she’d had a hand in making Astryx One-Ear less of a legend, and more of herself.
What had the elf said, there at the end?
You have made my road a stranger, but I am so grateful to find my way by starlight again.
Fern reflected that after wandering in her own wilderness, she was grateful for a clear night sky, too.
