Chapter 15: Buyer At The Door
Nik laced the conversation with jokes, some subtle, most not, but there was nothing subtle about the tension.
They ate like survivors, bowls clutched, eyes flicking to the blacked-out windows at every snap from the croft outside.
Even the dog, belly distended and head low, watched the door with a readiness that was all nerves and no training.
Nik wiped a thumb through his beard and gestured to the window behind Lyra. "Did you close the west shutter?"
Lyra shot him a look. "Twice. Why?"
He dipped two fingers into the air, as if plucking a thread. "I hear something. Cart, maybe. Or shoes. Not Watch, they don’t walk like that. Too heavy. Too... staged."
Thorin rolled his eyes but stood from the table, every motion done with the minimum required effort.
He reached under the bench, retrieved a length of pipe fortified with a soldered lead shot, and gripped it so casually it looked like an extension of his forearm.
Nik and Lyra set down their bowls in tandem.
Apollo, a half-chewed root chunk caught at the back of his tongue, rose and followed them toward the stairwell.
He felt the dog tense, then drift to his side, ears canted forward.