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‘So, Laudna and Imogen,’ said Dorian.
It was difficult to make sidling up to Chetney seem casual, given both their height difference and the hostile locale, and the gnome squinted up at him with clear suspicion. ‘What of it?’ he said. ‘Would have thought it was obvious to anyone with any sense.’
‘Touche.’ Dorian fetched his most charming smile. ‘I suppose they do seem rather made for each other.’
‘Yep.’ Chetney wiped his chisel against his outer thigh (which mostly smeared the ichor around, rather than cleaning anything) and sheathed it in his bandolier. Then he leaned up against the titanic creature they’d slain – which had far too many eyestalks, thank you very much – and gestured for Dorian to continue.
‘And you and Fearne? Something of an item?’ he teased.
Closer to the cavern’s edge, the satyr flounced onto her knees besides Orym. Her hands lit with healing magic, and Dorian watched the halfling accept her fussing with wry affection, as though the blood caking the side of his face had come from a papercut, and the crooked angle of his leg were a sprain.
‘You better believe it, baby!’ Chetney crowed. ‘If you’re lookin’ for a play-by-play, I’m too much of a gentleman to kiss and tell, but I will say-’
‘That’s quite alright, Chetney.’
‘Are you sure? Cos let me tell you-’
‘Quite alright. Thank you.’ The gnome deflated a little, and Dorian nudged him with his knee. ‘I’m glad you all had your fun.’
‘Damn right we did!’
Over the way, Ashton planted their hammer in the dirt and propped themself against it, with one leg just shy of pressing into Orym’s side. The halfling looked up at them with a smile, chuckling at something they’d said.
‘And, uh… what about those two?’ said Dorian, aiming for casual. From the sly look Chetney sent his way, he hadn’t quite hit the mark. ‘Ashton, and Orym? They seem to have gotten quite close. They haven’t coupled up as well?’
‘What’s it to you if they have?’
Dorian blustered. ‘I’d… be very happy for them, of course! Lovely, that everyone’s finding love in the middle of all this horribleness, isn’t it? Worthy of a song.’
‘Hmph!’ said Chetney, which could have meant anything.
There was a pained grunt, and Dorian glanced up to see that Orym’s leg had snapped back into place.
Dorian had lost sight of him, during the battle. Orym was so small, and darted so quickly between their flashier companions, and Dorian’s attention had been on Ashton, who had split into three, red and blue copies mirroring them to either side, and on Fearne, backed into a corner by the monstrosity. While Dorian was still choosing which spell to cast, Ashton had shifted their weight and coiled like a spring, hammer held patiently behind them.
‘Ash,’ he’d heard Orym holler. ‘Incoming!’
A halfling-sized blur came zipping out of his peripherals, landing square on the head of the hammer, and Dorian had watched, mouth agape, and Ashton launched his friend into the air.
Orym soared over the head of the monster, slashing into it as he sailed passed; then he landed like a cat and swung Fearne out of its path, and she’d laughed, like she’d only been waiting for Ashton to send Orym her way.
‘Yeah!’ he’d heard Ashton holler, barrelling forward to batter at the monster’s hindquarters. ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’
Of course, then the beast grabbed Orym in its tentacles and flailed him against the ground until Laudna fired three eldritch blasts through its heart. But before that, the synchroneity of their movements had been impressive to watch. Even Dorian could acknowledge that. Their tactility reminded him of the night Laudna had tried to steal the sword, when Orym leaned against the other genasi for support, and Ashton knelt and laid an arm around him. Even he knew that was a big deal, for Ashton.
‘So…?’ he said now, waiting for Chetney to answer.
‘Alright,’ said the elderly gnome, more serious than expected. ‘Look, hotshot. I’m not gonna pretend to know everything that happened in Issylra – they went through some shit over there, and yeah, they came back closer. But if I had to put money on where Ashton’s eyes have ended up, I’d say that fucker is cosying up to Fearne.’
Dorian blinked. ‘But I thought you and Fearne…?’
‘Shared a night of wild passion,’ said Chetney. ‘A single night.’
‘Oh.’
Dorian looked their friends over with new eyes. Ashton was standing close to Orym, but that also meant he was close to Fearne. He grinned down at the halfling, yes, but when his eyes slanted over to Fearne he looked starstruck.
‘You know where I went wrong with Fearne?’ Chetney said. ‘I let things stagnate, baby. Didn’t tell her how I felt. Just expected her to know, you know? Then someone else came swooping in and knocked her off her feet, while I was working up my courage.’
‘I’m very sorry, Chetney.’
‘These fucking kids,’ the old gnome swore. ‘I’m trynna be subtle here, nitwit.’
‘I’m not quite sure I follow…?’
He felt Chetney grab at his cloak, and let the other man pull him into a crouch so he could be berated face-to-face. ‘Look here, blue boy,’ said the gnome. ‘That halfling is a catch and a half. Have you looked at him lately? Those fucking leathers? It might not be Ashton, but someone else is gonna notice. Hells, even I took my shot.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t worry, he wasn’t ready for this much raw Chetney.’
‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea,’ Dorian said. ‘It’s really not like that at all.’
‘Oh, sure.’ Chetney’s expression went grim. ‘You know, the first time we fought Otohan, it was a right shit-show. Laudna died, Fearne died, Orym fucking died. And Letters, they brought Fearne back first, see, ‘cos she had the magic to save one of the others. But she was still all fucked up, so I had to bring Orym over to her.’
Dorian tried not to imagine too closely what must have happened that day. Ishta, the Summit Blade, ripping through his closest friends. Fearne, bloodied and weak, reaching for Orym’s body. But, well. It was his trade to imagine.
Chetney must have seen it in his face. His next words were gentle. ‘That sending stone was right next to him in the dirt, you know. When it all went tits up, and he thought he’d found the end, he was thinking about you. So don’t be a fucking coward, or a tease – he deserves better than that. Talk to him.’ Dorian scrabbled for something to say, and his gnomish companion patted him on the knee. ‘I’m gonna go somewhere else. Good luck.’
‘Chetney – what…?’ Dorian spluttered as his friend pattered away towards Imogen, presumably with the intent of bothering her.
The reason for the gnome’s swift departure became apparent when a different small hand brushed against him.
‘Hey,’ said Orym.
‘Hello,’ said Dorian. One side of Orym’s face was still sheeted in blood, but he was standing, and his eyes were bright.
‘What was that about?’ the halfling asked.
‘Oh, you know. Just some life advice from Chetney.’
‘Maybe you should take it. He can be pretty wise, sometimes.’
‘You think so?’
‘Well.’ Orym laughed. ‘I did say sometimes.’
‘I’ll take a couple of days to think about it,’ said Dorian, wondering if Orym had heard them talking. That was probably wishful thinking, wasn’t it? ‘But once we’re out of this ghastly ruin? I think I just might.’