Chapter Sixteen

"S-siblings!" Bev gasped. Of all the inns in the country… And based on the animosity between them, there seemed to be a good reason Horst had wanted his identity to remain a secret.

"We were certainly raised together, but this no-good lout lost the chance to call himself my sibling when he betrayed me." Ramone huffed, lifting their nose into the air.

"I didn't betray anyone, you two-bit amateur," Horst shot back. "You lost the job thanks to your whimsical nature. Kaiser said—"

"Oh, that name!" Ramone turned and put their hand on their head dramatically. "I can't hear that name!"

"He said you hadn't sculpted anything in months when he let you go," Horst said. "He gave you several generous warnings to stop messing around and create something. He's not in the business of giving money for nothing."

"I can't help it that the muse does what it wants," they said, waving to the air with a flourish. "No wonder I've been so creatively stuck for weeks. What with you stinking up the halls of my former patron's home."

"I haven't been there for weeks," Horst said. "In fact, I was returning there when all this confounded snow fell. I'm sure he's going to be furious with me for delaying my arrival."

"Surely, he'll have some sympathy for you," Wallace said, coming to stand next to the siblings. "We're headed to his house as well, and we've been unable to leave."

"We?" Horst narrowed his gaze. "Who is we?"

"Myself, my husband, and dear Collin the bard," Wallace said. "I'm supposed to lead the solstice service, and Collin will be playing the music. But alas, we're stuck here, same as you." He brightened. "Oh, how fortuitous that we're all going to the same place."

Ramone let out a scoff of disgust. "You would take his side."

"Now, Ramone," Bev said, "there's no need to be rude. You and Horst clearly have some bad blood, but—"

"It's more than bad blood," Ramone said.

"It's them being ridiculous," Horst replied.

"Let me have a go," Wallace said, holding his hand up to Bev. "Why don't we all sit down over a pint and discuss this?"

"Ahem." Paul shook his head.

"You can have pints, I'll…well, I suppose I'll listen," Wallace replied with a nervous smile.

Bev hadn't expected them to agree to it, but the siblings sat on opposite sides of the table, crossing their arms over their chests in an almost identical manner.

"Now, why don't we start at the beginning?" Wallace said. "Ramone, why don't you go first?"

"Simple. I was the chosen sculptor for Kaiser Tuckey up until two years ago. I'd been a faithful servant to him for ten years. Then my dastardly brother showed up and happened to bring a canvas. Left it lying around so Kaiser would see it. The next thing I know, Horst has my job, my house, my livelihood, and I'm expelled to this nothing little village with scraps of commissions to live on."

Bev frowned. She hadn't had a clue that Ramone was in dire need of money.

"That's not what happened at all," Horst said to Wallace. "My sibling invited me to stay, said they were having trouble with their art. They felt stilted and jammed up, like something was blocking their creativity. So I came with some samples to help inspire them. Mr. Tuckey happened to see one, and he liked my style."

"And fired me!"

"You were already on the brink of being fired," Horst replied. "You hadn't made a piece of art in six months. Hence why you contacted me to come help."

"And were you two…?" Wallace considered his words. "Are you more creative together?"

"Yes," Horst said as Ramone said, "No."

"Well, that's clear as mud," Bev muttered.

"When we were children, we'd often work together on projects," Horst said. "I can't sculpt to save my life, and Ramone's skill with paint leaves a lot to be desired." He gestured to the vase on the table. "Look at this. Uneven lines, no clear vision. But the detail on the sculpted pieces is exquisite."

Bev didn't know enough about art to really say whether he was telling the truth, but Ramone seemed to take offense.

"If my skill is so bad, how did I get hired in the first place?" Ramone snorted.

"That's not what I said."

"That's exactly what you said!"

"All right, all right," Wallace said with his hands up. "So we've aired the reason for the grievance. How are we planning on resolving it?"

Nobody said anything.

"I don't want to fight with you, Ramone," Horst said. "I actually… Well, I miss you, dear sibling. And if I'm being honest, I think there's something amiss with that manor. I haven't felt creatively full since setting foot there. In fact, I've been more productive in the past few days, sitting in my room staring out the window, than in the past two years."

Ramone shifted, but Bev cleared her throat. "Didn't you also admit that you'd finally figured out what you were going to sculpt for the town fountain, Ramone?"

"Perhaps," they muttered through tight lips.

"Then perhaps being in proximity of each other is what you need," Wallace said, toying with his ring. "You know, I've heard about this sort of thing with siblings. A need for them to be near each other. Almost like magic."

The two artists stared at the clergyman with dubious expressions. "We don't have magic," Ramone replied.

"Don't you?" Wallace said, twisting the ring back and forth so quickly it was almost distracting to Bev. "There's magic in art. You create something from nothing. And it stands to reason that if you and Horst were so close in your youth, being in each other's presence is necessary to reach your full potential."

Bev quirked a brow. That was certainly a stretch. She didn't believe for a second that either Comely sibling was—

"Oh, Horst!" Ramone rose, their face covered in tears. "How could I have been so blind?"

Horst was crying as well as he raced around the table. "My dear sibling!"

"Really?" Bev said, perhaps a little too loudly. "That worked?"

Wallace chuckled and walked to Bev to give the siblings time to cry in peace. "You seem surprised, Bev. I am clergy, after all. It's my job to help mend fences."

Bev felt a little tickle in her mind, and glanced down at that infernal ring that had been distracting her. No, not distracting…tugging at her mind. "Wallace, what's in that ring of yours?"

His brows rose, surprised. "You… You can feel it?"

Bev nodded. "There's something in there, isn't it?"

"Not many people can tell, I'm impressed." He chuckled. "It's just a bit of magic. Helps me get to the bottom of what's really bothering people without the effort of having to draw it out of them." He glanced over his shoulder. "For these two, they wanted to know they needed each other equally. Horst was on the road to forgiveness, and Ramone needed a little tug." He beamed. "All in the spirit of reconciliation."

"Is that sort of magic…legal?" Bev asked.

He gave her a nervous smile. "Perhaps not strictly, but I figure it's being used in the service of good, so it can't be held against me. Though I haven't exactly flaunted it in front of a queen's soldier to test that theory." He tilted his head.

Bev nodded slowly. That certainly put a new spin on the blackmail angle. Wallace couldn't possibly be so brazen as to blackmail the butchers while using illegal magic of his own, could he?

Almost on cue, Wallace cleared his throat, perhaps realizing he shouldn't have been so loose with the truth. "And if there are…"

"I'm not in the business of sharing secrets," Bev said. "Yours are safe with me."

The siblings broke apart, but not too far, with Ramone announcing, "I insist you leave this place and stay at my house. We must continue our great healing."

"Agreed, dear sibling," Horst replied with the same breathy tone. "But I'll need help. I've made lots of art in my time here."

"You…have?" Bev frowned. "What kind of art?"

~

"Oh…my…"

Horst clearly had left the inn much more than Bev had seen, because almost every inch of his room was covered in sketches, drawings, and paintings, all portraying a snowy Pigsend, of the people coming and going, Etheldra's tea shop, the bakery—Bev stopped counting after a while. Clearly, the banging Abigail had mentioned was the artist hanging up his work. Bev didn't exactly appreciate the new holes in her wall, but decided to leave it alone.

"Impressive." Bernie walked to the first painting.

"Where did you get all this paper?" Bev asked. "And paint? I haven't seen you leave the inn at all."

"I brought it with me," he said, carefully pulling the nails off the wall. "I'd been on sabbatical in a last-ditch effort to find inspiration so I didn't lose my job with Mr. Tuckey. But as I said, this is the first time I've felt inspired." He smiled at Ramone. "I must've known you were right down the road."

"Dear sibling, we will never be parted again," Ramone said with a sigh.

"Quite the turn," Bev muttered, pulling another nail off the wall and gently placing the landscape of a snowed-in Pigsend village on top of the rest as Wallace came up beside her to admire the work, too. "Are you sure that ring didn't have any persuasive abilities, either?"

Wallace chuckled, eyeing a portrait of himself and Paul reading by the fire. "I fear I've said too much about its abilities as it is."

So, yes. Bev glanced at the artists, hoping that once the spell wore off, they wouldn't go back to hating one another.

"Usually, the push is enough to heal things," Wallace said, under his breath. "And they rarely go back to their tiffs. Now, will they fight over something else? Probably." He chuckled. "That's the nature of these things, unfortunately. But for the moment, there's peace. And that's good enough for me."

He walked the portrait over to Horst, asking if he could keep it. "I've never seen my husband looking so handsome."

"Of course, of course. They're just ditties," Horst said with a smile that seemed odd after all the short-clipped gruffness. "I'm sure I'll have more to paint soon."

"Wow, I didn't think anyone liked my playing," Collin said, holding a painting of him laughing and playing the lute. "I didn't even think you'd seen me playing?"

"I peeked down that first night," Horst said. "You are quite talented, Collin. Don't let anyone tell you differently, especially that angry old woman."

"Angry old…?" Ramone turned to Bev.

"Etheldra Daws," Bev said.

"Ah, yes, ignore her. She wouldn't know good art if it bit her in the face," Ramone said with a sniff. "Brother, this? This is the best thing I've ever seen you do." He held up a painting of Vellora and Estera arguing in the backyard. "Look at the emotion, the drama. You've captured the butcher's temper perfectly."

Bev didn't think Vellora would appreciate the interpretation of her angry face, so she kept looking around the room. She found a painting of Allen and Vicky at the shop holding hands and another of Mayor Hendry walking down a snowy road.

"When did you get out and see all this?" Bev asked.

"I waited until the front room was cleared," Horst said. "Took a walk around the town once a day to get inspired and clear my head." He nodded to the painting of Vellora and Ida. "The butchers, in particular, drew my focus. They have such energy about them right now."

Bev inspected the painting again, ready to compliment him on the way he painted Vellora when she spotted a shadowy figure leaving their backyard.

"What's this?" Bev asked, pointing to the figure. "And when did you paint this?"

"On the first day. I was watching the butcher shop and saw them talking," Horst said.

"And this shadow?" Bev asked, pointing to the figure. "Did you see who this was?"

"No, I figured it was a farmer or someone dropping off a delivery," Horst said with a shrug. "I didn't get a good look. Most of the time, my paintings are from memory anyway."

Bev inspected the painting more closely, searching for a familiar cloak or dressing. "Was it a man or woman? Tall or short? Did they come inside the inn or keep walking? Have you seen them again?"

He shrugged, looking at the painting with a frown. "They were wearing a cloak over their head, so I didn't get a good look. Why?"

Bev plastered on a smile. "I'm sure Ida and Vellora would love to have this."

"Take it, please," he said. "I've got plenty more ideas now that I've got my beloved sibling nearby."

The rest of the art was packed into Horst's traveling bag. Even though the sun had long since set, the moon was high and bright, and Ramone insisted that their sibling come stay with them that night. Bev loaded them up with the remnants of the rosemary bread and triple-checked that Ramone didn't want to stay in the spare bedroom until morning.

"We have much to create," Ramone said with a smile. "And with any luck, my dear sibling will have a host of new material to bring to his master's home for the solstice."

"I already feel more inspired than I have in months," Horst replied. "Thank you, Bev, for everything you've done to heal this terrible rift between my sibling and me. You are truly a masterful host."

"I didn't do a thing," Bev said—and that was true. "But I'm glad to see you two happy."

Horst turned to go then stopped and came back to her. "Oh, I do remember one thing. That shadowy person had come from the farmlands to the west and returned that way."

Bev started. "They did?"

Horst nodded. "Must've been going far, because they were dressed to travel." He paused. "I hope that was helpful. If I remember anything else, I'll let you know."

Bev didn't have time to think too much about the new turn of events as Collin came up to stand next to her. He held two paintings, but couldn't stop staring at the one of himself.

"Art truly is magic," he whispered.

"How so?" Bev asked.

"Well, I was considering selling my lute after this week," he said. "But here… I look so happy playing my instrument. At peace. Whole, even. I don't think there's anything else in the world that could make me feel this way."

Bev gazed down at the painting, noting the way the light reflected in his eyes and the ease of his smile. "Horst is right. You shouldn't let one person's opinion get you down. Especially when it comes to art. It's all subjective, you know."

He nodded, watching the two siblings on the other side of the room. "I can't believe how quickly Wallace got them to make up. One minute, fighting like cats and dogs, the next, off on an artistic adventure in the snow together. How did he do it?"

"You'll have to ask the cleric," Bev said. "He's very persuasive when he wants to be, I suppose."

"But to be so persuasive," Collin said. "I'm eager to know how that's possible. Do you think he slipped something into their drinks?"

"If he did, I'm sure the siblings will wake up tomorrow and be at each other's throats," Bev said with a chuckle. "But they'll be in Ramone's house, not mine, so not quite my concern."

The bard nodded. "Have a good night, Bev. Hopefully, the snow melts in the morning."

"You know, every time I say that, I wake up with another inch on the ground."