Ink and Ore (The Kerafin Chronicles Book 1) by Hayley Whiteley

Author:Hayley Whiteley [Whiteley, Hayley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Storm Hollow Press
Published: 2024-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

22

Dakier

It was the fourth day on the way to Halstat when Brenna declared the group needed a break, and everyone readily agreed. It was to be a time for Katiel to practice wielding and for Dakier to prepare for combat. As luck would have it, Sera was a skilled markswoman, and she had been giving Dakier pointers to improve his aim during the brief breaks they’d taken so far. Since it helped ease his nerves about what was to come, Dakier was immensely grateful for her instruction.

Today, though, he was even more grateful for everyone to regain their normal hygiene routines. Since they had been traveling for four days straight without bathing, the group smelled terrible. And they still had two more full days of riding ahead of them.

They had found a deep, clear stream to make camp near the night before, so it made for a perfect place to wash themselves and their clothes for the travels ahead. Dakier had brought a spare set of his usual clothes—brown flax trousers with suspenders and a linen shirt. Other than that, he had the pair of boots on his feet and his typical flax summer overcoat. The others in their group seemed to have packed similarly lightly, except for Anton.

The Drezchy had been wearing a different three-piece suit each day so far, some days with a cravat as well. Dakier noticed he had a spare pair of black boots and matching belt with him, too. “In case of formalities,” Anton had said. He even donned cufflinks each day, of which he seemed to have a separate pair to match each suit.

“Where do you keep all those clothes?” Dakier asked the question sarcastically, but in response, Anton pulled out a strange contraption from his seemingly bottomless travel bag.

The object looked like some type of fireplace bellows, but when he attached it to the small bag he had just stuffed his nightclothes into and pressed down on the handles, the bag flattened to the thinness of parchment.

“It’s a device of my own invention,” Anton declared, though he was not looking at Dakier, who had asked, but at Katiel, who did not appear to be paying attention.

Everyone had just taken turns bathing and changing into their spare clothes, and now Brenna was scooping all the discarded articles into a fluffy pile to wash. At Brenna’s insistence, Anton was unsealing all of his—as she so delicately put it—“disgusting, freaky shrinking bags,“ so that she could wash his army of suits “before they grew something.”

She had just secured the last garment and headed to the stream when Dakier realized his opportunity. “Wait!” he called after her, at a volume that was far too loud for their proximity. More quietly, he said, “I can come with you and help.”

Brenna squeaked out a reply he couldn’t make out, but she seemed to want him to come from her tone, so he followed her to the water and wordlessly began scrubbing the first garment she handed him. Her eyes

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