Arrow on the String: Solomon Sorrows Book 1 by Dan Fish (no david read aloud TXT) 📕

“Why wouldn’t you use your bow if you knew the orc was a Seph?”

One arrow can’t hit two targets. Sorrows knew what they were doing. Knew they were working to keep him off balance. Distracted. Flustered. He had thought Shen was only there as a pretty face. A distraction. But her questions hinted at more, and hinting meant hiding. Sorrows wondered what he might learn if he played along, so he thought about what she asked but steadied his aim on one target.

“I fought with Trailswell Devrok, years ago,” he said, turning to Oray. “I was the arrow, he was the blade. Good dwarf.”

Most were.

Oray nodded. “He married Alesha Sturm.”

“Had kids, too, last I heard. Four sons,” Sorrows said.

“He had a daughter as well,” Oray said.

“Gods,” Sorrows said. “Good for him.”

Dwarves carried on the family name through their daughters. And dwarf women were rare. A daughter was considered good fortune. A blessing of the gods.

“You seem happy for him,” Davrosh said.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t envy him?”

“Envy? How so?”

“He has someone. A family. You’re alone. And the most you could ever hope for is a half-born child.”

A temper is like an arrow caught in a whirlwind. The arc of flight disappears, taking the will of the hunter with it. The arrow becomes a wild thing. Dangerous and untamed. Sorrows stared at Davrosh. Stared real hard and thought real long about whether he was fast enough to get across the table before Oray or Ga’Shel got to him. Thought about what he might lose and what he might gain. After a deep breath, thought it better to stay calm. He moved on. Answered the question.

“Gorn Haglund hired me as an armed escort when the front lines were overrun a few decades back. He used to do a whiskey run back then. North road saved him a month of travel. Worth swapping copper for muscle.”

Davrosh’s jaw flexed. Quick and subtle. Her smirk faltered and disappeared entirely.

“Did you consider him a friend?” she asked.

“No,” Sorrows said. “He was an orchole. Why? Relative of yours?”

“You two ever argue?”

“Sure.”

“Ever fight?”

“Gods, you’re half dwarf; what do you think? Of course we fought.”

“Gorn stole your necklace once, didn’t he? The one you keep hidden beneath your tunic.”

“How do you know about that?”

Oray sighed. “We know everything worth knowing about you, Sorrows.”

“And some things not worth knowing,” Ga’Shel said.

“How good are you with a bow?” Shen asked. Distraction.

“I know which end of the arrow faces forward,” Sorrows said.

Davrosh snorted. “Answer the question, orchole. How good are you?”

“What do you do here, Ga’Shel?” Sorrows asked, turning to face the elf.

“Walker,” Ga’Shel replied.

“Any good?”

“Good enough to make Hammerfell in ten days.”

Sorrows raised his eyebrows. Impressive. “They pay you?”

“Of course.”

“There’s your answer,” Sorrows said, returning his stare to Davrosh. “Good enough to get paid.”

“But that’s not the only weapon you know how to use, is it?” Davrosh asked.

Sorrows shrugged, said nothing.

“Are you as good with other weapons as you are with the bow?” Oray asked.

Sorrows shrugged, said nothing.

All five elves seemed pleased with the response, which made Sorrows regret answering the question about the bow. Silence hung around the table, waiting to be broken. Sorrows shifted, uncomfortable on his chair.

“Why didn’t you use the bow on the Seph?” Shen asked.

Sorrows shook his head. “Wouldn’t make sense. I thought the orc was an orc, and I wasn’t looking to kill. Just sending a message.”

“You would’ve used it if you knew the orc was a Seph?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t the right time.”

Shen stared at him. Gave a quick sigh through her nose.

“Did you know Gorn had daughters?” Davrosh asked.

Sorrows nodded. “I caught word his wife birthed twins a while back.”

A dwarf daughter might be rare, but twin daughters were unheard of. They might come around once in five generations. Twins meant a new family name, a new lineage. One daughter to keep the old, one daughter to spawn the new. News like that gets around, even if you’re not listening for it.

Davrosh stared at Sorrows. “That must have made you angry. A guy like Gorn being shown the gods’ favor.”

“Not really,” he said.

“No? Why?”

“Why would it? They’re not my gods.”

Oray, Davrosh, Ga’Shel, and Eldrake were studying him. Looking for something. Shen pursed her lips, stopped tracing circles on the table. She slid forward, half-sprawling across its surface.

“Who told you not to banish the Seph?” she asked.

“Nobody. Like I said, the timing wasn’t right.”

“Orcpiss,” Shen said. She shook her head. “You find a scrap of village on the Edge. Stake out a tavern for a month. A Seph shows up in an orc, which I’ve never seen before. I didn’t even know they could wear anything but human skin. You go to meet it, but don’t use your bow. None of it makes sense unless you’re not telling me something. Someone’s pulling your strings, Sorrows. Are you willing to take the fall for them? Why not give them up? The Mage Guard make powerful allies.”

“No one’s pulling anything,” Sorrows said. “Unless you’re volunteering.”

“Because you work alone, right?” Davrosh asked.

“Most of the time.”

“Alone. The last human. Nothing left to live for. You just nurse your grudges and follow your own rules, right?”

“Something like that,” Sorrows said.

All five sat back simultaneously. An unsettling demonstration of unspoken agreement. Oray smiled, Shen rolled her eyes. Eldrake nodded to herself, tapped her finger on the table. Soft and slow, like she was counting.

“Tell me about Sturm and Gorn,” she said.

“What’s left to tell?” Sorrows asked.

“Did their situations remind you of your loss?”

Sorrows sighed. “I suppose.”

“Did it make you angry?”

“Not really. Why would it?”

“It’s normal to covet that which we can never hope to obtain, is it not?” Eldrake asked.

“If you say so.”

“It’s normal to harbor resentment. It’s normal to let it build up over the years.”

Sorrows shrugged, said nothing.

Eldrake tilted her head, watched him. “And that could be a problem for you, wouldn’t you say? It has been a very long time since any human has lived as long as you, Solomon. The species might have been intended for immortality at one