Page 17 of Court of Treachery

The group followed suit—Harper scrambling to copy them—before supping deeply from the ale within. Harper groaned on the first mouthful. It was far sweeter than Tam’s sour brews. She gulped another mouthful eagerly.

“Steady on, Harper, or you’ll be drunk before we eat,” Aedon said, laughing. She grinned at him, emboldened, but he only laughed harder.

Their ales were almost gone by the time their dinner arrived—chunks of boar meat and vegetables in a bowl of steaming stew, and a hunk of bread. The companions fell into silence, each tearing through their food as quickly as they could chew. Harper savoured the rich, honeyed bread—only a day old and hardly stale—dipped into the stew. Juicy. Tender. Rich. Hot grease ran down her chin as she tore from a particularly large chunk of meat. It dripped into the stew below. She closed her eyes in bliss.

When Harper finished, she threw her meagre scraps—a chunk of bone with a shred of meat remaining—to the hounds sprawling before the hearth. They fought over it, cracking the bones and gobbling up the leftover marrow within. The companions collectively slumped back in their chairs with satisfied groans, nursing refilled tankards, as the swell of conversation flowed around them.

“Are we safe here?” she dared to ask, keeping her voice low. Though Brand and Erika constantly scoured their surroundings for the first sign of any threat, Harper had never seen the four of them so relaxed.

“As safe as we can be,” Brand murmured in reply, continuing to examine the closest patrons. “The Kingsguard turn a blind eye to these places, so they’re frequented by the likes of us—and worse—as well as honest traders. They’re good places for us to come. We hear a lot more out here than we do in the cities, where we’re hounded by the red cloaks.”

Harper nodded and glanced around. Now she could see their fellow patrons up close. Their cloaks were on the tattered end of their lives, and under each bristled a hint of weapons—the bottom of a scabbard, the haft of an axe. Long, tangled hair wasrestrained in braids and ties, pulled back from faces that bore shadows and scars.

“I can’t understand half of them,” she said, annoyed. Their voices were hidden amongst their own cacophony, and it seemed half of them did not speak the Common Tongue.

“If you spoke Pelenori, you would understand most of it. It matters not. We can listen and hear what you cannot, but I reckon you will still find many interesting titbits. Plenty of folk speak in the Common Tongue. Keep your ears open.”

Harper did as Brand suggested, listening to snippets of conversations—when she could understand them—whilst nursing her second tankard and trying to still her wandering mind, freed by the drink. All spoke of looming war, the closure of trade routes south through the mountains to the dwarves and beyond, and the threat of a dark force, but Harper could understand no more of their words.

When conversation turned to Tournai, an icy fear shuddered through her, and she stiffened. It would not do to dwell on Tournai, what had happened there—or a certain spymaster. But they did not speak of Aedon, or her, or the missing Dragonhearts, or even Dimitrius. The latest preoccupation was the weakening of the very king himself. Now, they only dared speak in murmurs, and Harper had to strain her ears to hear them. From Aedon’s unflinching stare into the fire and Brand’s set mouth and hard gaze into his tankard, she knew they also eavesdropped.

“The king and Tournai have been cursed? It is too fanciful to believe,” Erika muttered, full of her usual suspicion.

“Yet these are the most honest mouths in all of Pelenor, if only you can discern through the swill to find the truth,” Aedon replied.

“If their words be true, then it is troubling for my kin,” Ragnar said with a frown of worry.

“The goblins are always causing a fuss,” Aedon dismissed. “I’m sure your kin have all in hand, as they usually do. You know how the goblin-kin get rowdy time and again, before your jarls put them in their place.”

“Jarls?” Harper whispered.

“Dwarven lords,” Brand whispered back.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Ragnar said, though he seemed unconvinced.

“I’m always right.” Aedon winked at the dwarf.

“What concerns me more is the news from Tournai. What would be huge enough that the king be turned from seeking us for the theft of his Dragonhearts?” Erika asked with a scowl.

Aedon tempered. “I agree.Thoseare dark tidings, if they be true. What did you hear, Brand? You were closer than I.”

“A curse lays upon Tournai. Those of magical blood in the court waste away daily, their powers spent and gone. The queen is gravely ill, and they say King Toroth’s power wanes.”

Something hollowed within Harper at those words, and the thought of Dimitri there—he had been kind to her. He had ensured she had escaped. His actions muddied the hate she was supposed to feel for him and she did not know at all what to do with that tangle. Instead, she latched onto thoughts of Emyria. Emyria did not deserve to grow sick.

“He can barely control the Kingsguard, and rumours spread like wildfire. No one knows what passes, and in that unknown lay doubt, fear, and unrest. It is said that the common people will mass against him before too long.”

The companions shared long glances. What could they say to it? Tournai was too far away for them to be concerned with.

“Well,” Aedon said lightly. “At least that might turn them from our trail for a while.”

“We can only hope,” muttered Brand.

The merry atmosphere and raucous laughter of the inn faded into the background as they worried on this new information, until Aedon slapped the table and stood. “Come. We need to be far from here by dawn. Who knows who we may encounter upon the road if we dally too long. We stay our original course and head for Keldheim.”

“We’ll have to be extra careful. The goblins are sly, sneaky creatures.” Ragnar’s face contorted in an uncharacteristically hateful scowl. The flickering firelight threw deep shadows across the crevices of his face, making him appear even more angry. “We don’t want to encounter them if they are on the rise once more.”

“Duly noted. I dare say we’re not planning to. What’s the safest road in?” Aedon asked.

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