He gestured toward Morick, who had one of my best barmaids perched in his lap, and I glared at him. He just grinned at me with a total lack of shamelessness and took his time kissing her while I drummed my fingertips across the wooden bar top. A few customers crowded the counter, and I gave up and went behind the bar and served them since she was apparently too busy.
I’d just set the last cup on the bar and started to mop up a spill when Morick leaned both elbows on the bar and gave me his usual big grin. “I’ll take one of those, friend.”
I pointed at him, still clutching the dish towel in that hand. “Leave Cynia alone. She’s the only barmaid I have who does a decent job of cleaning. I don’t want you running her out of here.”
Morick looked innocent. “I would never. I think it’s true love with Cynia.”
I rubbed my hand over my face. Both entrepreneurship and leading a rebellion had turned out to be less glamorous than I’d imagined. It turned out that everything that involves other human beings was pretty much a pain in the ass.
“Please tell me about the brigands. Should we go talk to them? Should we go hurt them?” I wasn’t eager to find myself being strung up for thefts that I hadn’t even committed. They were sloppy. And I had a feeling they were stalking our route. I didn’t need imitators.
“I think we should start with talking, but no need to take any options off the table yet.” Nora sounded awfully bubbly given we were discussing murder. “Morick, tell him what you found.”
Morick nodded. “You know how we’ve always had the king’s gold melted down into new forms so it can’t be so easily tracked? That way the king’s anger won’t so easily rebound on the villages? Our new friends are sloppy.”
“What were they doing with the gold? Did they turn it back to the villages?”
Morick shook his head. “Weapons purchases.”
My blood ran cold. I meant what I’d told Honor about walking a fine line trying to avoid a full-on war, and I wasn’t eager to see others rush in and kick off bloodshed. There was no war that wasn’t soaked in innocent blood.
“But we tracked them down from their purchase trail and we know where our new friends are!” Nora said triumphantly. “We even have their names. Glora and Trek.”
“My life is being endangered by a Glora and Trek,” I said flatly.
Nothing could dull Nora’s enthusiasm. Sometimes I worried it all felt like a game to her.
I knew how easily my father would murder my friends if he thought it would make me more tractable. It was that line I walked that kept assassins from melting out of the shadows, slitting their throats, and leaving them on the wet cobblestones in the middle of the night. “We even managed to figure out where they’ve been living.”
Morick snorted. “If you can call it living.”
“Not everyone wants to live either onboard a ship or pickled in gin in a city, Mor,” Bryden clapped him on his shoulder.
I tried to keep the three of them on track. “Great. Lead on.”
Late that night, I padded along the quiet country roads, listening for any sounds. The Scourge had been less active lately at night, less dangerous, but I wasn’t dropping my guard. Nora flew over my shoulder, a small white bird darting this way and that. An owl swooped overhead, and Nora dove toward me. I growled and jumped onto my hind legs, snapping at the owl, which quickly wheeled in the opposite direction and swooped away looking innocent.
Nora transformed in mid-air, landing lightly on her feet, and pushed her long, dark hair back behind her ears. “It’s so much fun to fly except for predators.”
Morick pointed ahead of us, and I changed back too. The moonlight shone across the yellow fields that led toward a small house. I wanted to be human to talk to our new friends.
“Must be nice to be a dragon,” I said lightly. “The biggest predators there are.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Even Nora looked uncomfortable, and I thought nothing made Nora uncomfortable.
I bumped her shoulder with mine, trying to lighten the mood again. “I’m happy being a wolf. It suits me.”
Morick snorted. “Well, I’ll take the water-magic, but I’d prefer that girls didn’t often complain my ship’s quarters smells like fish.”
“Maybe the odor is not about your soul-creature,” Nora said, “and more about the quantity and quality of sex happening in your quarter.”
“Let’s not discuss Morick’s sex life,” Bryden said.
“Why not?” Morick disagreed. “I assume you’re all living vicariously, given how boring your own love lives are.”
“Some of us prefer to wait for true love,” Bryden chided Morick.
“That’s like skipping breakfast and lunch because you’re looking forward to a nice dinner,” Morick said, then, apparently having decided his argument wasn’t strong enough, added, “and snacks.”
“Let’s get quiet,” I cautioned as we stepped from the road into the field. The lights were all off in the house, but if these criminals wanted to live long, they’d better have some security measures in place.
They silenced instantly. I was pleased. We began to make our way through the grain toward the open clearing where a handful of cows grazed sleepily.
Silence lasted about fifteen seconds.
Morick looked around seriously. “What’s the point of a life of crime if you have to live surrounded by cows?”
“Some people prefer this,” Nora responded. “I’d love to leave the city behind someday, spend my days surrounded by trees and beauty and not people squawking at each other.”
“No thank you. I grew up in the country,” Morick said.
We all turned to look at him curiously.
“I wasn’t born like this, you know,” he said. “We all have a past. Though yours is probably all as boring as your love lives.”
We reached the house and broke in through one of the windows, taking turns climbing through into the dark, filthy living room.
We moved silently through their home, searching for the rest of the treasure that they had stolen. It didn’t take much searching, though. We found their cache of newly purchased weapons left lazily scattered through the house, swords and explosives scattered everywhere. If they wanted to eat at their kitchen table, they’d have to push aside both old plates with stale food and piles of gold.
They were a bunch of slobs. I could tell it offended Bryden. “Just because you’re a criminal doesn’t mean you can’t do your dishes,” he complained.
“Time to wake up our new friends. I’ve seen enough.” I said.
Just then all hell broke loose, and it became obvious that our new friends were awake as they crashed into the kitchen, swords drawn.
“Good morning,” Bryden said cheerfully as the big lump of a guy, Trek, went after him. Bryden threw a dirty dish into his face, where it shattered, and Trek stumbled back as Bryden launched one after the other. “Learn to pick up after yourself.”
Trek twisted away from him, wincing, then jumped and caught the chandelier in the kitchen. He slammed his legs toward me, and I ducked to one side, but it was unnecessary because the chandelier tore loose from the ceiling and he plummeted to the ground.
I would have laughed at him, except his female companion, Glora, was dancing in with her sword. I drew mine to match her, but Morick kicked her in the back of the knee and she buckled.