Assassin's Bond (Chains of Honor, Book 3) by Lindsay Buroker

Author:Lindsay Buroker [Buroker, Lindsay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lindsay Buroker

10

There weren’t as many taverns and boarding houses along the waterfront as in larger cities, and with his magic, Yanko located Dak’s familiar aura. Dak had chosen a pub called the Drunken Duck, claiming a small table in the back for himself. It was crowded when Yanko walked in, with no other tables free, but he imagined Dak had thrown a few elbows or glowered with his single baleful eye and won himself a spot. There weren’t any other Turgonians that Yanko could see, but nobody seemed inclined to pay attention to Dak.

A man was sticking small flags into a big map of the nation that had been painted on the back wall, and he had the room’s attention. People jeered, groaned, or cheered as the flags went in. The man held a newspaper folded in one hand and glanced at it while he worked.

Yanko paused. Was that map a real-time representation of the fighting going on in the country?

He longed to jump onto a table so he could see more than the northern mountains and seas, but he was reluctant to draw attention to himself. It had startled him when the port-authority officer guessed he was moksu simply by looking at him. He couldn’t imagine why—it wasn’t as if he was dressed in fine silks and gold jewelry—but it had been a reminder to lie low. The last thing he needed was to be captured by a gang of thugs and shipped off to that remote island.

Admittedly, the potential thugs in the tavern weren’t as intimidating as some. Maybe after Yanko had spent so much time around Turgonians, his own people seemed diminished, but he saw a lot of skin stretched tight over cheekbones and hands with every tendon visible. None of the tables held bowls of food, and the beer and rice wine appeared watered down. Nobody in the entire tavern, perhaps the entire city, was well-fed.

Sadness and frustration tightened Yanko’s throat at what was happening to his people. Maybe the nation hadn’t been ideal under the Great Chief’s rule, but it had been better than this.

He headed toward Dak, vowing to take a good look at that map as soon as the room settled. Dak grunted when Yanko sat in an empty seat at his small table.

“I see you missed me terribly in the hour we were parted,” Yanko said, forcing levity into his tone. Railing about his feelings to Dak wouldn’t get him anywhere. He liked Dak, but he could never let himself forget that Turgonians would prefer it if Nuria broke itself apart instead of remaining a force to contest them in battles.

Dak grunted again. He had secured a mug of beer, though he hadn’t drained much of the pale beverage yet. Yanko wondered if he was waiting for some Turgonian contact. Could he have such a person in a city they hadn’t anticipated visiting? And if so, could he have reached out to the person so quickly?

“Are we waiting for something?” Yanko asked.

Dak eyed him sidelong.

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