The Orphan and the Thief

Chapter 9: Agatha

They settled in a meadow and Toad and Hazel made the fastest fire yet. Toad had the creeping suspicion that the cave monster may venture out at night and enter their camp, so he snapped a heavy branch from a tree to use as a makeshift club. Hazel caught them two large rats that they roasted over the crackling flames and Melena, with her foot propped up on a mossy rock, flipped through her potion book.

"I think that tree over there is a foxelm," she said, pointing. "I can use the sap to reduce the swelling."

They rose early and the sticky, red sap Toad had gathered for Melena had done the trick. She could walk. It was impossible to pinpoint their location on the map — they could have shot out anywhere in Dunthur. But they refused to let this trample their spirits.

Two down, Toad kept repeating as they made their way through fields of tall grass. Three to go.

"Look! A road!"

Toad followed Melena's pointing finger and his heart fluttered.

"That must mean a town's close by!" Melena cheered. "We might even be able to catch a buggy!"

"You've changed your tune about hijacking," Toad observed with a grin.

"I see nothing wrong with efficiency," Melena replied, primly, making Toad laugh.

The air was crisp with the arrival of autumn and the wind whipped about them; Toad kept having to brush his fringe out of his eyes. The rocky terrain smoothed over with grassy slopes and on one crystal clear afternoon, they crested a hill to see a town nestled down below in the crook of a valley.

Licklade, as the town turned out to be called, was weather-beaten and full of cotton-haired shepherds. It didn't take long before they found a suitable inn — the Soggy Dog. Toad wrinkled his nose at the heavy smell of pipe smoke and stewed cabbage.

"What can I do for you?" asked a curvy woman behind the bar.

"Do you have any open rooms?" asked Melena, pulling her leather money pouch from her knapsack.

Toad sidled away from the bar, toward a pair of ancient men immersed in a furious battle of chess. He watched as one man chewed upon his pipe in furrowed concentration. One hand hovered uncertainly over a knight before shifting to a pawn —

"Liverwort? I don't want liverwort!"

The man jerked so badly at the cry of indignation that two pieces clattered across the board. He swiveled in his chair, brandishing his cane, and bellowed, "Blast you, Birdie! Can't you keep quiet!"

But Birdie didn't hear or perhaps she was too enraged herself to notice. She sat slumped in her chair, woolen shawl wrapped tight about her frame, glaring daggers. Toad saw, on the table between Birdie and her companion, five stacks of brightly colored cards.

"Ooooh, they're playing Bloodroot and Toadstools!" Melena had reappeared by his side. She was staring at the colored cards with great enthusiasm.

"Bloodroot and what?" asked Toad.

"You haven't heard of it? It's a potion memory game. I used to play it all the time back in the orphanage — that's what got me interested in brewing. What you do is —"

But just then Birdie's opponent let out a shrill cackle that made everyone in the room flinch.

"But I do, Birdie," the spotted woman shrieked.

"Oh, toadstools!" Birdie cursed.

"Now that you've finished that pestilential game you can clear out and let people with a proper sport have some concentration!" the wizened chess player growled.