The Child of the Dragon Gods by Susan Trombley

Author:Susan Trombley [Trombley, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-07-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Once I called you Father, now I call you enemy

Your cruelty unbinds my own,

And I will outmatch you…

—Tome of Sundering, Vengeance

Derek and Tolmac arrived at the Sated Maiden just before dinner bells tolled through the town. The rough hewn logs that formed the facade of the large inn contrasted with the elegant, aged stone buildings surrounding it. Crammed between two grand old dames of architecture, the raw wooden beams and shake-shingled facing looked like a scruffy young upstart. A poorly painted sign with the picture of a young lady wrapped in a blanket that left little to the imagination swung in the breeze. The sounds of raucous laughter warred with the scent of seared meat and fermented grain.

A crowd of strange creatures weaving in and out of the knotted oaken doors provided evidence of the popularity of the inn, or at least of the tavern on the first floor. Derek heard music starting up just as they entered and was intrigued to discover a small dais in the tavern where two winged women plucked at massive wooden harps and sang in a high, trilling language unfamiliar to him. The females wore diaphanous gowns and little else. Their wings gleamed white, as did their hair, which flowed down to ankles that were not human but the rough scaly skin of bird talons that plucked the lower strings of the harps.

The large black eyes in their beautiful faces scanned the audience and Derek suppressed a shudder. There was something unnatural in their darting gaze, an emotionless intelligence that calculated with lightning speed and acted without remorse. He turned his back on the dais and the females but remained uncomfortably aware of their presence and the trilling of their song.

The tavern was crowded like so many others in every place he had ever been. Large men, or what at first appeared to be men until closer inspection, laughed or argued in overloud voices. Others thumped mugs of ale onto scarred tables that looked as if they survived one war already and were capable of surviving a thousand more. A barrel-chested tavern keeper cleaned the bar with a dirty rag. Of course, this tavern keeper was more barrel-chested than any other Derek had ever met, or at least the equine lower half of him was. The centaur towered over both Derek and Tolmac as they requested lodgings and enquired about their companions.

One front hoof pawed at the planking floorboards as the tavern keeper considered their questions. "Hm, the cat people came in earlier.” The bearded centaur scratched absentmindedly at the apron that was the only thing covering his bare chest. “They rented three of my best rooms, and they’re probably up there now since they ordered baths.”

He tossed his head and Derek was reminded of Panzer. He missed that damn horse.

The tavern keeper, unaware of the direction of Derek’s thoughts, continued. “Very clean, those cat creatures. As for the murks you asked about, I saw them but not since earlier today, they left this morning and haven’t returned.

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