Thealos glanced over his shoulder at the Drugaen. Flent seemed a little unsure of himself. He was probably missing Sol more than he cared to admit. “I thought the same thing when I first went to Sol. It’s a wreck of a city, Flent. Even Dos-Aralon has gardens and flowers.”
“Who cares about bloody gardens. I miss the ale! The best ale in the world comes from Sheven-Ingen, and it costs a fortune up north or out this way.” He sighed. “Sol may not be pretty on the outside, but the beaches! Loved walking those beaches.” The Drugaen sniffed and shrugged. “But if I was going to move, I’d go find a shack in one of the Shoreland cities farther south, or maybe an island. Windrift is nice enough, I’ve heard.”
“If you’re an outlaw,” Sturnin muttered under his breath.
“The Shoreland?” Thealos said with a wince. “Sun, rain, and mosquitoes. It’s awful. Why not move to Dos-Aralon? It’s expensive, but the wages are better. There are even a few Drugaen settlements up there. Those that don’t want any part of the war with the Krag.”
Flent shook his head in disgust. “Can’t stand Inlanders.” He glanced at the knight and his eyebrows rose apologetically. “No offense, Sturnin. No offense. Every kind of folk passin’ through Sol has stopped by the Foxtale once or twice. But it’s the sailors I like. They’ve got stories and things to sell. The ocean is always cool – none of this banned sun baking your brains.” He glared up at the sky. “I’m not always going to unload barrels and toss out troublesome folk. Gonna buy my own ship some day.” He chuckled. “Won’t that be a first! A Drugaen galleon.”
Thealos grinned. He searched the taverns and brothels for a sign of the Catpaw Inn. From the slanting porches of homes, he saw a few curious and some angry stares. “The Port of Jan Lee has a beautiful harbor. Puts Sol to shame.”
“Never been there,” Flent said with a sniff. “But I guess that’s because your people won’t let others in.”
Thealos shook his head. “They let some people in, but I’m sure the ale merchants find the business rather poor,” he added with a grin. “It’s beautiful to see, but you would probably die of thirst in there, Flent.”
They turned the corner and started down the main street to the south, toward the entrance of the Iron Point Road. A dog stared at them, its sad eyes bemoaning the heat, and its tail wagged sluggishly. It yawned and then dropped its head back down on the deck. They stopped to rest by a wooden post near a chandler shop, and Thealos wiped the sweat from his neck. He scanned the street and discovered a well-painted sign bearing the name of the inn they were searching for.
Crossing the street and shoving open the door, Thealos blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the shade. Thick stone walls kept the main parlor cool. The smells of baking bread and lamp oil greeted them. The common room was half-empty, filled by a few loggers and a solitary woodsman in the far corner of the room, sipping from a cup. The woodsman nodded to them and went back to his meal.
“Not bad…not bad at all,” Flent mumbled, nodding with appreciation. “Better than Roye’s place.”
“Get us a table, Flent,” Sturnin said. “I’ll talk to the innkeeper and ask about the girl.” He brushed the dust from his upper arms and approached the man behind the bar counter.
Thealos quickly caught the knight’s shoulder and stepped around him. “I can do that, Sturnin.”
The knight paused, giving him a steady look. But he backed off. “I wouldn’t try slipping out the back, lad,” he said quietly. “I mean to see the Sleepwalker here.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” Thealos replied with an even tone. “But I doubt he would have left you a message, would he?”
The innkeeper was a gaunt man with friendly hazel eyes and a receding hairline that was well salted and wispy. He had crooked teeth but a warm smile. “You’re a long way from home, my friend,” he greeted with an easygoing grin. “If home is Avisahn.”
“Are you the owner?” Thealos asked, leaning against the counter.
He affirmed it with a nod. “My name is Talbin. You must be Thealos.” He kept his voice low. “Why don’t you join your friends and I’ll bring out some dinner for you. The girl you sent ahead has been fretting since she rode in.”
“She’s safe.” Thealos sighed with relief. “And Jaerod?”
“Ssshhh,” Talbin replied, wiping a mug clean with a towel. He glanced over Thealos’s shoulder and looked at the woodsman in the far corner. “He should be back tonight. I’ve got two men out looking for him.”
“Why?” Thealos said, concerned.
“Because that man over there is waiting around to kill him.”
*