Into the Hourglass by King Emily R

Author:King, Emily R.
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542043946
Published: 2019-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The Lazy Lizard smells of stale seaweed and spilled grog. A stairway by the entrance leads to the upper level, the staircase unlit and uninviting. We follow the candlelight and the sultry music into the open dining area.

Tables are set in the center of the tavern. I locate one near the outskirts of the room and cross to it, evading eye contact with the bartender, barmaid, and seated patrons. Radella hisses in my pocket as we pass the bar, at what or whom I cannot tell.

The slower music switches to a swinging beat. Onstage, in a tub full of water, a female merrow sings a melody different from her peers’ summons of enchantment. She lies on her back, gripping the sides of the tub with her slim green fingers and black nails. Her opaque tail fin drapes over the bottom of the tub, and her hair cascades over her shoulders and outside the basin. Her tresses are duller when dry, gray green like the northern hills of Wyeth, and the scales of her lower body glimmer from green to blue to indigo with an undertone of violet. Her ears stick out like fins, and her onyx eyes gaze emptily into the audience. Outside the tub, also on the small stage, two elves play a toe-tapping beat on drums.

Jamison has paused in the alcove. I go ahead of him, assuming he will follow, but he is stalled in the doorway, fixated on the merrow. Laverick pulls him along to the table. He slides onto my bench and she sits across from us. He hasn’t removed his focus from the merrow. Her tune is different than the one the merrows sang to call us to the sea, and none of the other patrons appear influenced by her voice.

I raise my hood and set my hand on Jamison’s knee. “Is she enchanting you?”

“No, but I’ve no trust that she won’t.” He grips my hand so hard his knuckles bleed of color.

At the next table, an elven gentleman in satin, the first elf I have seen with gray hair, keeps company with a lass in an olive gown. Other groups are scattered throughout the dining area, some in parties of three or four. As far as I can see, we are the only humans.

A barmaid arrives at our table to take our order. Radella hisses at her, and I sit back, startled by the girl’s bare feet and shapeless burlap sheath. Her most stunning feature is her long silver hair that hangs to the floor. She squints her pale-gold eyes at us.

“Did you go out alone?” asks the barmaid. “We don’t serve unattended humans.”

“We’re waiting for someone,” I say. “First Mate Osric of the Undertow.”

“Oh, Osric! He’s so handsome, isn’t he handsome? I’ll bring you some whiskies. And what can I get your pixie friend?”

Radella hisses at her. The barmaid woofs gruffly like a dog in return and storms away.

“Did you hear her bark?” asks Laverick, her tone touched by amazement. “I think she might be a selkie.

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