“Are ye going to move, or’m I needin’ to push ye out of my way?” said a voice behind them, and Tasia turned to see a short, irritated fat man, with far more hair lining his cheeks and upper lip than his bald head.
“Apologies, sir,” Tasia said, stepping quickly out of the way.
He gave her an odd look as he moved past, and Tasia realized her words had been far too formal for a place like this. A muttered “sorry” would’ve been more than sufficient.
“Let’s sit,” she said to Joslyn.
They wound through the maze of tables and stools until they came to a spot near the back, close to the kitchen. It was early yet, with only the two of them, the fat man, and three other patrons in the tavern, but Joslyn’s dark eyes darted from side to side before she sat down anyway. She chose a spot with her back to the wall, and as soon as she sat, her hand slipped under her over-large tunic. Tasia guessed that the guard was fingering the hilt of her sword, which made the Princess realize that in her haste to leave the palace, she’d forgotten to strap the dagger Joslyn had given her beneath the baker’s girl dress. Although she’d only started to wear it recently, its absence made her feel oddly naked.
Tasia waved the serving girl over to them. “Two ales and… what do you have to eat?”
“Salted pork and wild onion soup tonight,” the girl said, managing to sound both sleepy and mildly annoyed by the appearance of the new customers.
Tasia wrinkled her nose. It sounded awful.
“We’ll both take a serving,” she said.
“It’s three coppers a piece,” the girl said. “One for each ale, two for each dinner.”
Tasia nodded, but the girl didn’t head for the kitchen.
“What?” Tasia asked.
“You pay in advance,” the girl said.
Tasia reached into her riding boot and fished out a silver penny from the pouch she’d tucked inside. She could feel the royal ring in there, too, the one she always carried, just in case, when she left the palace for her adventures.
She set the silver coin on the table. “I don’t have any coppers. Will this do?”
The serving girl’s eyes widened, and she looked from the coin to the Princess as if perhaps someone was playing a joke on her. “We — I don’t know if we have enough coppers to give you the difference.”
Tasia shrugged. “Open a tab for us. I’m sure we’ll drink more before the night is through. You carry whiskey, don’t you?”
The girl nodded, her eyes still bug-sized.
“Then bring us some whiskeys after our meal. That should use up a few more coppers, shouldn’t it?”
The girl picked up the silver coin from the table and held it to her lips, giving Tasia one more glance before she bit down hard on it. She pulled it from her mouth and inspected the bite mark.
Sounding considerably cheerier, she said, “I’ll be right back with your meals and your ale.”
“Good,” Tasia said. The girl turned to leave, and on impulse, Tasia reached out and smacked her bottom. The Princess cackled with delight when the girl scurried away, shooting the stranger with the silver coin a surprised backward glance.
When the girl disappeared into the kitchen, Joslyn leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We’re attracting too much attention as it is. Don’t make it worse.”
“Too much attention? No one’s even in here.”
“Not quite no one,” said the guard. Her gaze shifted, looking beyond Tasia as she scanned the room. “The sailor behind you saw you slap the girl on her rear. The fruit merchant to his left made note of the silver penny in your boot. And the Imperial soldiers playing darts heard you ask for the whiskey.”
Tasia turned around. She saw the men playing darts, another talking to the companion beside him, a spoon poised above his bowl, and the fat man who’d told them to get out of his way. The latter glanced away as soon as he saw Tasia looking at him, picking up his tankard of ale.
“How do you know what they are — sailor or fruit merchant or soldier?”
“Because,” Joslyn said patiently, “the bald man has blackberry stains on his fingertips — I noticed them when he walked past us at the entryway. And since it’s too early in the season for blackberries here, he must have bought them rather than picked them. The soldier in the corner is wearing the standard issue boots of the Imperial Army. And I could smell the sea coming off the sailor as we passed him.”
The serving girl reappeared then, setting down a tray of food and ale between the Princess and the guard.
“So what brings ye to Port Lorsin?” she asked as she distributed the food.
“Just passing through on our way to the Central Steppes,” Tasia said with a practiced ease.
The girl made a face. “It’ll be cold up there. They say spring doesn’t arrive on the steppe until Mother Moon is halfway through her fourth cycle.”
Tasia grinned. “That’s what we’re hoping for. We’re bringing apa-apa wool from Terinto to sell. It’s the best wool in the world for blocking out the wind.” She turned towards Joslyn. “Isn’t that right, Jos?”
Joslyn nodded wordlessly.
The girl put her hands on her hips and studied the guard a moment before turning back to Tasia. “Your friend isn’t very talkative, then? Does she speak the common tongue?”
“Some,” Tasia said with a shrug. “When she wants to. She understands more than she lets on.”
The girl glanced at Joslyn again. “Lucky you. Traveling all this way with a fine specimen of a nomad woman to keep you warm when that desert sun goes down.”
“The apa-apa wool keeps me warm, not the nomad,” Tasia said.
“If you say so,” said the girl, and she winked at the Princess before turning back towards the kitchen.
Tasia giggled, pleased with her on-the-spot storytelling. “Did you see that? My slap on the bottom worked. She’s flirting with me to see if she can earn a little more of that silver coin! And checking along the way to see if you and I…” she pointed back and forth across the table between herself and the guard. “To see if we were… more than just traveling companions.”
Joslyn cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re hoping for? A serving girl to take your mind off Mylla?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” Joslyn said. “But in the army we used to have a nickname for girls who spread their legs quickly for any soldier with a bit of coin to spend.”
“What? Whores?”
“No. Saddle burners.”
“Saddle burners?”
“For the inevitable rash that would develop after a night with her. Would make riding on his horse rather uncomfortable.” She lifted a shoulder. “Or her horse, as the case may be.”
Tasia leaned forward across the table. “What, you have personal experience?”
Joslyn said nothing, just raised both eyebrows with a small smirk and sniffed her ale before taking a sip.
“You’re so infuriatingly… mysterious.” Tasia sighed. “But I suppose you’re right. About the serving girl, at least.” She picked up her ale and gulped down a mouthful. “Gods be good!” she exclaimed. “This tastes like donkey piss!”