“You recognize anyone ’ere?” Breck asks in a low voice.
“No.” I glance at the officials, one of whom catches my eye. Probably because aside from me, he’s the only other person who also has his hood up. A young, thin-faced man, he tips his head at me beneath the black folds of his cloak and shows his strong jaw and perfectly straight, shiny teeth in a smile I’m sure has dazzled a dozen barmaids. One of those teeth appears to be silver. I empty my eyes of emotion and look away.
“Who’s Colin talking with?” Breck says in my ear.
“Half the room and a tall dwarf.”
She grunts. “Figures.” She lifts her nose and sniffs. “Reeks like frightened mine workers and a traveller.”
I stare at her. She can smell them?
I’m about to ask what else she can smell, but our drinks arrive and Colin saunters over to join us, ignoring Breck’s disapproving expression. “They’re mine workers out for a bit o’ fun afore they head to the war front.” He points to the noisy group with the dwarf still standing on the table. “And that smaller guy hails from the traveller camps.”
I look at Breck. Impressive.
“See that kid near ’em?” Colin directs my attention to an exhausted-looking boy our age who can barely hold his head up. “He just got back from the front. Not too willing to talk about it though.”
Judging from the five empty pint glasses tipped over in front of him, I doubt he’s able to talk at all. The look on his tortured face says he’d likely cry anyway.
“One of his mates said they never saw any airships. It was the plagues that did ’em in,” Colin says. “Ravaging the coastal colonies below the western cliffs. They’re cut off from the rest of us so we’ve not ’eard much of it. But they said by the time King Odion’s generals and Bron showed up to wipe those colonies out, there was ’ardly nothin’ there to take. After that, the disease started takin’ out part o’ Bron’s army too.”
I shift in my seat, facing away from the soldier. “What kind of plagues?”
“Wouldn’t describe ’em. Just said they turned men ‘unearthly.’ Musta been pretty bad though, seeing as half his troop got wiped out.”
“Did he say where they came from?”
“See that dwarf?” Colin tips his chin to the guy who’s now reclined on the table with his head cocked, listening to his friends. “Goes by the name of Allen. Says the word among the travellers is that the plagues are the work of Draewulf.”
Breck coughs and nearly spits out her drink on us.
Colin and I both look at her.
“Dumb commoners will blame any superstition on Draewulf,” she says, as if sensing our questioning glances.
Colin smirks at me with a confiding air. “Breck’s scared of ’im. She even sings that ‘Sea of Elisedd’ ballad just to assure ’erself it ain’t real.”
“Am not!” Breck growls.
“Are too. Always ’ave been. Squirrelin’ around like—” He shifts to a mimicking, high-pitched voice. “ ‘I’m a squeamish girl who can’t handle talk ’bout Draewulf.’ Same as you been actin’ about that Luminescent Princess Rasha. Afraid one of ’em’s gonna steal yer soul.”
Breck hauls off with an awkwardly aimed hit that glances off Colin’s shoulder. It sends him tipping back off his chair, but he bounces back laughing. I look around to see if anyone’s noticed, but most are busy with their mutton and porridge.
Except for the strong-jawed, silver-toothed official across the room.
He’s eyeing Breck and me up and down, not even having the grace to glance at our faces this time. I shift closer to Colin. Coming here wasn’t a good idea.
Our food arrives. Warm plates of white-worm stew and crusty bread. Colin and Breck order more mead to go with it. I stick with my tankard of water.
“None for you?”
“Drink and I don’t suit each other,” I tell Breck.
“I’m bettin’ she gets a little too friendly.” Colin bats his eyelashes and makes kissy lips.
I snicker just as a shout erupts from the middle of the room, saving me from having to tell him to go to hulls.
“I’m tellin’ you, she’s Draewulf’s daughter,” one of the men from the rowdy group says. “Isobel, they call her.”
Breck’s head is up in an instant. She snaps at Colin to quit his slurping.
“Yes, except the Drust ambassador is real, and Draewulf’s not!” a blond-haired man yells from the table of court officials. He breaks into a cackle, and his friends join him. But they’re the only ones laughing. Everyone else just glares.
“Some say she’s a Mortisfaire. Can change your heart to stone,” the dwarf pipes up from his perch on the table. He leans over to a man beside him and pokes him in the chest three times, each with more emphasis. “With. One. Touch.”
I look at Colin and mouth, Stone?
He just shrugs.
“Maybe it’s not her touch, maybe it’s her looks,” someone yells. “I hear she’s somethin’ to behold, if ya know what I mean!”
“She can touch me if she wants!”