Dry Town
The fishing party over, Bjorke and Norgoth stood on the dock in Booty Bay. “Let’s find a drink,” he said, striding off towards the tavern.
“Not here,” she countered. “I’ve had enough of Goblins to last me awhile. Southshore.”
A curt nod was the only response as he continued walking. Read the rest of this entry »
Free at Last
With a twinkle in her eye and a spring in her step, put there by her husband, Bjorke loped easily across the Flats. She had left her horse, Fury, in the hills leading down from the sandy Tanaris. Hoofbeats echoed loudly on the hard, salt-encrusted earth, and moonlight lit up the place. A special job like this required special gear. The pale grey, nearly white leathers, hugged her lithe curves, supplely moving with her. The long, curved blade of her favorite knife was at her back. Not that she needed it this time; it was more of a talisman, like Iophon’s “Lucky Hat.”
“Lucky Hat, my eye,” she chuckled quietly. “The man cheats.” Read the rest of this entry »
Back to Work
With the “investigation” over, Iophon behind bars, and Truitt safe, if still absent, Bjorke was able to get back to work. Granted, she missed having a morning market report to read on the boat, and missed even more the Morningbrew waiting for her. Bad coffee from a vendor was the best she could hope for at the moment. She’d learned quickly enough that the coffee in Rachet was to be strictly avoided, but the cook in Booty Bay made a passable cup. Bjorke was well-used to the scents – odors, some would say – of the Bay-town, wafting around her like an old familiar friend.
Kaz and the priest were waiting when she arrived. “Let’s get to work,” she said by way of greeting, only to have it returned in the form of a breath-stealing embrace from Kaz. “Yeah, I missed you too, big guy.” He traced a finger along the crooked scar on her eyebrow, and she batted his hand away affectionately. “I’m fine, I tell you.” But she smiled up at him. “I’m fine,” she repeated softly.
“Then, shall we begin?” the priest asked patiently.
Bjorke nodded, then remembered to speak. “Yeah, let’s move. Got a lot of boxes to shift, to try to catch up.”
Aftermath
Bjorke was as out of place in Mabon’s home as a murloc at a state dinner. She felt about as clumsy as one, as well, with all the knickknacks on the verge of tipping over from her puzzled glances. It hadn’t been like this last time she was here, and the weekly reports didn’t mention the sheer volume of… of… things.
“This is so exciting, so many visitors at once!” Mabon hugged Bjorke, who merely stood there, stiffly, as if moving might upset the delicate balance of the sitting room.
Once released, she smiled at Mabon. “I just need to speak with Truitt for a bit. How about you whip us up one of your famous meals, eh?” Read the rest of this entry »
Over the river and through the woods
He had packed a few things in his bag – plain shirts, spare trousers, his new ledger – the old one gone forever – and a copy of The Auction House and You. He thought it was time to work on the revision.
Bjorke knocked on the doorjam and peeked her head in the open door. “Ready?” She held out a skin to him. “Give this to her, will you? My lastest batch. Pretty damn close to the original, I think.”
Truitt looked at her, frowning. “Odd thing to take to my hostess.”
She merely grinned at him. “The girl does love her stout. Trust me.” Read the rest of this entry »
