Her husband frowned at her. “You can’t sugarcoat it like that, Yadje. No one stepped down.”
“They used to.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Shh.” The troll woman’s eyes darted toward the potionmaster, who was slowly making his way along this wall of his shop now. “That’s enough.”
R’mahr bowed his head and stared blankly at something on the counter.
Cheyenne pressed her lips together. Trouble in Ambar’ogúl. Sounds like the current Crown started it. She filed her questions about that for a better time and nodded at the long, gossamer wing displayed beside three others on the counter. “O’gúl hornet?”
Bryl removed her fingers from the wing she’d been gently stroking with a finger and laughed. “You don’t know anything, do you?”
“Bryl, how many times do I have to tell you to use your manners?”
Cheyenne set a hand on Yadje’s shoulder and gave it a little pat. “It’s okay. I don’t get enough of the truth as it is. Your kid’s all over it, and I like it.”
“Hmm.” The troll woman shot her an amused frown and stroked the back of her daughter’s long scarlet braids.
“This is an evendrake wing,” Bryl added softly. “That’s the O’gúl hornet’s web.”
The halfling looked at where the troll girl pointed and cocked her head at the item dangling from the edge of the top shelf by a thin piece of twine—a cross between a dreamcatcher and a spiderweb, the thin threads glinting black and red and silver in the potion shop’s low light. “That came from a hornet?”
“O’gúl hornet.” The kid laughed and shook her head. “Not the same as the little bugs here.”
“Little bugs?” Yadje bent over to stick her face right up in front of her daughter’s. “I don’t know where you get these ideas, my love, but that kind of disrespect will get you—”
“That’s what they’re called, Maji,” Bryl whispered fiercely. “Over here. Bugs.”
“Who told you that, hmm?”
The girl’s frown was so intense, it darkened her entire face as a bloom of deep purple rose in her violet cheeks. “One of my library books,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “The ones from last week, remember?”
“I never would have let you bring home anything about bugs.” When Bryl’s scarlet eyes flicked toward her father, Yadje straightened and turned slowly to stare at R’mahr in disbelief. “You let her bring that sort of blasphemy into our home?”
Her husband chuckled nervously. “It was a library book, Yadje. For children. About Earthside bugs. Two entirely different things.”
Cheyenne cleared her throat again. “I don’t know what they are on the other side, but here, bugs are insects.”
The troll woman blinked at her, oblivious.
“You know. Tiny crawling things. Ants, beetles, worms, caterpillars?” The halfling shrugged. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”
Yadje blinked furiously, glared at her husband, then shot their daughter an uncertain glance. “I never saw this book.”
“It only took me a day,” Bryl replied, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That’s why I brought home five.”
“Hmm.” When the troll woman met Cheyenne’s gaze, the halfling nodded and tried to smile. “If Cheyenne says that’s what it was, I must defer to her. But I don’t want to hear that word coming out of your mouth ever again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Maji.”
The potionmaster’s low mumbles and heavy grunts had drawn closer to them along the wall, and Yadje guided her daughter toward the front of the shop with a hand on the girl’s back. “What else did you need from here, my love?”
Cheyenne and R’mahr exchanged glances, caught between the miffed troll woman and the seriously grouchy orc potionmaster behind them. And I thought my mom had weird quirks. That was rough.
R’mahr leaned toward her and muttered, “The O’gúl hornet’s web has powerful uses for wards, by the way. Mesmerizing to look at, no? But so expensive.”
The halfling muffled a laugh and nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Once Bryl and Yadje had plucked everything they wanted from the potionmaster’s wares, the troll family gathered at the orc’s counter at the back of the store and waited for him to finish his curmudgeonly curation.
“I’ll be right back,” Cheyenne muttered, then slipped around the huge display in the center of the shop and headed toward the opposite corner again. Leaning against the edge of the narrow counter lining the wall, she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the twine tying the O’gúl hornet’s web to a nail in the edge of the top shelf. A little buzz of energy jolted in her fingertips, and she carefully lowered the entire thing to study it for a second. The web twirled back and forth, the thin, glittering strands winking in red, black, and silver. Good for wards. I need wards.
By the time she returned to the orc’s counter, the potionmaster was back behind it. He touched each of the items the trolls had set down with a gnarled finger, then rubbed his thumb against that finger and grunted. “Eighteen.”
“Yes.” Yadje opened her oversized handbag, pulled out a small woven purse that could have been bought here in Peridosh, and handed the orc a twenty-dollar bill.
That’s how you know we’re on this side of the border.
The orc pulled the change out of his pocket and slapped two ones down on the counter. “Until next time.”
“Thank you.” The troll woman pocketed the change—and their supplies—before she and her family stepped back to let Cheyenne approach the counter.
“I know this wasn’t on the list,” the halfling said, lifting the web up over the counter, “but I couldn’t help myself.”
The troll’s eyes all widened, and Bryl let out a little gasp. “Wow!”
“Of course, you couldn’t.” The orc glowered at her and set the woven basket on the counter with a thud. The thing nearly overflowed with spell ingredients he’d tossed in there.
Cheyenne nodded. “Thanks for grabbing all that. What do I owe you?”
“Very funny.” The potionmaster’s crooked fingers reached out to take the twine tied to the O’gúl hornet’s web. “I will, however, need payment
