Page 81 of Dragon Fight

“Say no more,” Jerome said, clapping Ged on the shoulder. “My sons do the same damn thing after festival days. I better get on; I need to be earning a quid to lend their useless arses.”

“Like all good fathers do. Good day to you, Jerome.”

Ged winked at me and then drew closer, muttering to me in a low voice.

“Now you know why I gave you the kerchief. Hold it close to your face. It might stop the smell. Maybe…” He shrugged then walked on, leaving me to struggle along after him.

We continued along the street then turned down a laneway towards one of the tanneries.

A man with Ged’s strong boned face looked up as we approached, though his short, cropped hair was grizzled grey, and his big body was a little softer around the middle.

“Son!” He rushed over, grabbing Ged in a rough embrace before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “And which son do I have before me?”

“Will.”

“That our Ged?” a youngish man approached, happily setting down the scraper in his hands before wiping his hands on an already filthy apron and offering Ged one.

“Will,” Ged corrected with a frown. “Ged wouldn’t be shaking your filthy hand. Too high and mighty that one.” As if to cement his point, he gripped the other man’s hand. “How the fuck are ya, Billy?”

“Arms deep in shit, literally,” Billy said with a roll of his eyes. “Same as always.”

“So what brings you down to our end of the world?” Ged’s father asked. “Anything wrong with your mother?”

The look was a meaningful one, obviously having some kind of subtext.

“She’s the same,” Ged replied, “but there’s been an issue with some of the crops. Can we talk somewhere?”

“Nowhere away from the stink here.” Ged’s father looked past his son, to me. “Your boy alright?”

“Nope, used to the clean scents of the fields, this one, but he’ll survive. We’ll go to your office.”

“Now, Ged, what’s afoot?”Any pretence was dropped the moment we were inside the small room. While the stench was somewhat muted by the four walls, the atmosphere of the room was close, stale. “I’m assuming there actually haven’t been any birds from your mother?”

“None as far as I know,” Ged replied, as both he and his father sank down onto old wooden chairs. I perched my bottom on a nearby stool, his father keeping an eye on my every move out of the corner of his eye. “I’m on keep business.”

“Always are when you come down here as ‘Will’,” Ged’s father replied, then nodded to me. “And who’s this slip of a thing?”

“Lady Pippin Emberly—”

“Lady?” the man barked, looking from one to the other of us.

“May I present my father, Roland?”

I tugged down the kerchief, instantly regretting it when I did, the burn in my nose almost painful.

“Pleasure to meet you, Master Roland,” I replied. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.” I tugged the kerchief back up, plastering my hand across my face to try and block out the stench.

Roland waved his hand, indicating no offence was taken, but his eyes were narrowed on his son.

“What the hell have you got yourself into, bringing a lady down to these parts? Tell me she’s not some rich man’s wife you’ve spirited away?”

Ged let out a bark of laughter because, in some ways, that description was true, even as it wasn’t. Then he shook his head, and his father relaxed back in his chair.

“You would’ve caught word of a woman dragonrider?”

“The one so misshapen that the prince rejected her?” I winced at that descriptor, Roland echoing my expression when he realised what he’d said. “My apologies, milady.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “So, that’s what they’re saying?”

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