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

the bow. They’re elves. They’re bound to have more than one angle. What about Overseer Shen? Maybe they’ll hand you over to her.”

“She’s worried about the Edge,” Sorrows said. “Orc patrol is for new recruits, not hired blades.”

“The Seph,” Fen said, lifting his glass, pointing a finger. “She thought you intentionally didn’t banish them. Maybe the elves suspect collusion. Maybe they keep you around to pull double duty hunting the Seph. Elves don’t like the monsters any more than you do.”

Sorrows shook his head. “We’ve been through this. Shen was there to keep me off balance, nothing more. There’s no Seph conspiracy or Seph underground. If there was, I’d have come across it by now.”

“Maybe it’s nothing more than keeping you on assignment with Davrosh. You could be partners for the next hundred years or so. How long does a dwarf-elf live?”

“Gods, no,” Sorrows said. Julia, he thought. He sighed. Rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “They’re good. I hate them, but they’re good.”

“Then be better,” Mig said. She rested on a cushion leaning against the wall. She had a strand of hair and was twirling it around her finger.

Fen gave a sharp laugh. “Better, sure. There’s a first time for everything.”

“Be better?” Sorrows asked. “And how do I do that?”

Mig smiled.

“You’re Solomon Sorrows. You’ll figure it out.”

✽✽✽

FEN FOUGHT THE whiskey for a spell, but eventually he fell asleep on his cushion. Mig yawned, quietly rose, and walked over to Sorrows. He’d moved into a corner, stretched his legs out in front of him and folded his arms across his chest. He watched her approach.

“You could have told me,” she said softly.

She placed a foot on either side of his legs and lowered herself onto him. The fabric of her dress slipped up to her thighs, pulled tight against his legs as she straddled them. She lifted a hand, brushed the hair from his forehead.

“I know,” he said.

“I’m serious about loose ends, Sol. I know Julia was special to you. I’m not telling you to forget her, but you need to let her go.”

“I know.”

“Do you? You disappeared for a year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, and I know it’s difficult. Your job and everything you’ve been through. I want you to be happy. I thought I made you happy.”

“I am. You do.”

“A year, Sol.” A tear slipped onto her cheek.

Sorrows said nothing. He wrapped his arms around Mig and she pressed into him, rested her head beneath his chin. She smelled of lavender and orange blossom. He held her tight until she fell asleep, then carried her to bed and laid her down.

✽✽✽

HE LEFT FEN’S house quietly and started the mile walk back to the tavern. The sky had turned from starry black to gray, and the silhouette of the forest emerged around him. He had his cloak, his quiver, a coin purse, and a rucksack with enough food for a few days. The air was crisp with fall. Frost sparkled on the ground. His breath swirled in a cloud in front of him. His legs felt strong.

He didn’t hurry. He followed a packed earth path until it emptied onto a cobblestone road. Walked the road like a shadow, caught glimpses of his reflection in shopwindows as he passed. The elongated shape of goblin glass stretched his image, made him seem taller than he already was. It squeezed his shape into something thin in the middle and thick at the top and bottom, like he was being squeezed by some invisible hand. It made him think of the elves and the Seph and the bow.

The horizon blushed with sun hidden by clouds. Long wisps of dull crimson that would turn to dazzling orange and yellow as the day woke and morning bloomed. The haze of wood smoke lingered overhead. A north wind pulled at his hood, whispering of a winter that hadn’t yet found its teeth. The tavern appeared before him, wide and tall beneath a canopy of maple, oak, and pine. The windows were black, the front door would still be locked. He found a stretch of wall free of branches and waited.

✽✽✽

HE WAS LEANING against the trunk of an oak when he heard footsteps approaching on the road ahead. He looked up. Wished he hadn’t.

“Where’s Oray and Ga’Shel?” he asked.

“Already left,” Davrosh said. “Slipped the god-stream an hour ago.”

“Forest-walking? Who? Ga’Shel?”

Davrosh gave a quick snort. “He’s stronger than you think. Definitely stronger than your goblin friend.”

“But not strong enough to bring all of us back to Godscry?”

“We’re not going to Godscry.”

Elf scholars perform a variety of calculations with a variety of formulas. They study life, the gods-realm, magic, everything. They determine ways to measure. They invent ways to influence. They measure, influence, and measure again. They make small changes. The smaller the better. The less they influence, the more they understand how things react to that specific influence. Precision. Accuracy.

Sorrows wasn’t a scholar. Had never been the scholarly type. But he understood basic concepts like the distance between two objects. Knew the greater the distance, the more time was required to cover that distance. Knew time could be shortened by increasing speed. Basic concepts. Easy to understand. He knew Tam to Hammerfell was close to twice the distance of Tam to Godscry, which meant twice the time spent with Davrosh. He knew that without slipping the gods-stream, twice as much time with Davrosh became four times as much. Basic concepts.

“Gods shun that,” he said. “No way in hells am I spending two months slow-footing with you. We wait in Tam. Fen can take us in a couple weeks.”

“No chance,” Davrosh said. “We leave now. We stick to the road. Ga’Shel will be ready sooner than your goblin friend. He’ll find us and take us the rest of the way to Hammerfell.”

Sorrows shrugged. “Whatever gets us there faster.”

“My way does,” Davrosh said. “Get used to it. I know what I’m doing. When we get to Hammerfell, let me do my job.”

Get on her good side, Mig