“Fork Town has its issues,” Reya said. “No one usually bothers us, but we’re not supposed to bring the dragons into town in case it upsets people. They’re too closely associated with the war.”
“It’s a different crowd here every time too,” Errol said. “Pendarkans. Trurens. The occasional Soolen. I met a mercenary from the Far Plains in a tavern here once. She nearly sliced my ears off for smiling at her.”
“You don’t need to worry, though,” Reya said. “We’ve got your back.”
Tamri didn’t believe that for a second, but she raised her tankard in thanks anyway.
“All I know,” Taklin said, “is that His Chief Dragon Riding Lordship will make us go out to the stables to babysit the dragons if we don’t get moving. They’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.” He downed the rest of his ale in a single gulp. “To the Fork!”
8
The dragon riders took the job of giving Tamri a tour of their favorite taverns very seriously. Despite their apparent friendliness, she couldn’t fully relax around them. The physicality of their camaraderie was so different from her friendships with the kids she sometimes ran with in Pendark. You just weren’t supposed to touch people who weren’t family. If she tried to sling an arm around Pel’s shoulder the way Taklin did with Reya as they left the Waterlord’s End, he’d think she was trying to steal something and shove her into a canal.
The evening progressed in an overwhelming influx of new sights and sounds. Tamri took in everything in flashes. Firelight reflecting on glass steins, long drinks of warm ale, foam on Reya’s nose across an olivewood bar, the smells of rabbit stew and vomit. Then fiddlers on the brick platform in the Fork, sending wild music into the night. An inebriated Errol trying to dance with the mangled iron statue. A roughly dressed man with sandy hair muttering curses about Vertigon under his breath as he shoved past. Another with a scar that pulled his mouth into a grotesque smile, watching them with calculating eyes. Tamri tried to point him out to Taklin, but the dragon rider just shoved another drink in her hand and told her to relax.
Tamri stopped drinking at that point, holding on to the bottle to use as a weapon if the fellow with the smiling scar made a move. A sense of looseness and lightness already filled her, as if she didn’t need to be wary, and she didn’t trust the feeling one bit.
The ale Tamri had already consumed helped to dull the soreness in her muscles, but she deeply regretted it when the ache migrated to her head the following morning.
“Looks like someone had a proper Fork Town revel,” Taklin said when she joined the dragon riders for breakfast.
Tamri grimaced and pulled a loaf of bread toward her. Errol was fast asleep with his head on the table, and Reya looked slightly the worse for wear too. Fenn, Heath, and the princess were nowhere in sight.
“Eventful night?” Tamri asked Taklin blearily. He had become shamelessly enamored of no fewer than three different women at various points in the evening. She vaguely remembered one of the women being much more interested in Reya.
“I’ll say.” Taklin passed her a clay mug full of water. “Good thing we’re taking a proper Fork Town day off, though. My dragon won’t appreciate it if I hurl on her feathers.”
The most difficult stretch of their journey would begin the next morning. They all needed to be well rested when they crossed the mountains through Kurn Pass.
When they’d returned to their shared room at the inn last night, Reya had explained that most people stayed two nights in Fork Town because it was an ideal location for trade, the only major hub connecting Pendark and Soole in the south with Trure and Vertigon on the other side of the Linden Mountains. The tradition of spending the first night carousing made the place infamous, but commerce was the real reason it was a vital stopover.
The dragon riders carried lightweight Fireworks from Vertigon to trade: smaller versions of the glowing sticks they used to communicate, hot stones that stayed warm for a year, and little beads that would erupt into fiery flowers. Reya had assured Tamri she’d see many more wonders made with the Fire in Vertigon. Such things were too expensive for Tamri in Pendark, and she knew precious little about what Vertigon’s magical substance could do. That would change soon enough.
“What will the dragons do today?” Tamri asked as she sipped her water and waited for her head to stop throbbing.
“They’ll stick to the stables outside town,” Taklin said. “They don’t like moving more than necessary when they’re carrying Watermight.” He leaned back, stifling a yawn with his fist. “We’ll check on them in shifts throughout the day. Heath’s already out there.”
Tamri was surprised the Vertigonians weren’t more worried someone would try to take the Watermight stash. On the other hand, she supposed you’d have to be really stupid to try to steal from a dragon.
The others dispersed to shop and trade their Fire trinkets with the merchants who frequented Fork Town. Tamri had nothing to trade, of course. She was about to return to her room when Princess Selivia waltzed down the stairs and demanded that Tamri accompany her to the shops.
The princess wore a simple dress of burnished orange, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She seemed cheerier than the day before. Perhaps she and Heath had made up during the night. Fenn, the older red-haired woman, shadowed Selivia now, wearing a short sword on her broad hip. The princess’s long-time bodyguard stuck close by whenever Mav wasn’t around to protect her.
“I’m terribly sorry I abandoned you yesterday,” Selivia said as she swept Tamri up from the common room. “Did the dragon riders take care of you?”
“Yes, Princess. Taklin was especially friendly.”
“Oh good. I’m afraid I was a dreadful host.”
“It’s really okay.” Tamri certainly didn’t expect this sister to kings and queens to fret over her. She glanced at Fenn, but the bodyguard didn’t look surprised at the princess’s concern for a commoner she barely knew.
Late-morning sunshine greeted the trio as they left the inn. The crowds were out in force, shouting in half a dozen accents and sometimes brandishing weapons at perceived slights. The activity had a chaotic purposefulness, and it was difficult to keep track of any given altercation as they squeezed through the throng.
They crossed the main Fork, dodging the carriages and riders circling the brick platform, and found their way to a smaller side street lined with fine garment shops, wine purveyors, and even a goldsmith.
“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Tamri,” Selivia said as they strolled along the street. “But I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t bring many clothes with you.”
“Oh, I was told to pack light.” Tamri hefted the burlap sack she carried on her back. She didn’t mention that it contained all the clothes she owned.
“Did Heath make you—never mind.” Selivia smoothed back her hair. “You’re from a terribly hot city, but it’ll be cold in Vertigon. Let me buy you some warmer things.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Please! It will be my present to make up for not accompanying you myself.”