“Exclusive, you say? The kind of exclusive that gets locked up in a dungeon?”
“Helps the Queen sleep easier,” he muttered. “The thought of playing host to a dragon was too much to bear.”
The lock snapped open and Mandell waved Gretchen toward the door.
“You’re not coming?” She eyed the dim room askance.
“I’ll be up into the early hours catering to the fancies of your benevolent rulers. You should count your blessings your part will be easier to play.”
Gretchen shrugged, strode through the door, then jumped when it slammed behind her. Without the torches, the room was near black, and she rummaged around in her pouch for something useful. She made a point of keeping a kit on her person at all times, and the charmed light bottle had come in handy on more than one occasion. When she’d left the tavern she hadn’t imagined being whisked away for more than a night, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had to ride out a few days in the same underwear. With a muttered incantation, a pool of light spread across the floor and squeaking rats scuttled in the dark corners to keep out of view. Another door stood on the far side of the room, this one unlocked.
The bright orange glow caught her off guard, and she held a forearm up to shield her eyes. A deep rumble, reminiscent of a chuckle, vibrated through the floor.
“Got his witch, I see.” The rumbling voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Gretchen squinted about the room to place it.
An orange dragon curled by a makeshift fire in the middle of the flagstones, looking at her expectantly. Gretchen blinked. It wasn’t every day one stumbled on a dragon, and from the lack of luster on his scales and the scars on his ears, that one had seen better days.
“Ah ha. So, you must be the big guy.” Gretchen cast around, her eyes falling on a pile of goblins sleeping on top of each other. “And who are they?”
“The supporting cast. They will play their part in the first of the trials.” The dragon’s eyes twinkled with something close to mirth. “My name is Viragh. And you, witchling?”
Gretchen sank to a stool by the fire and held her head in her hands. “Gretchen. Witch for hire.”
“You don’t seem happy to have earned a commission.” The rumbling chuckle resumed.
“Alls I know is, one minute I was having a quiet drink at The Salt and Bog,” Gretchen waved her arm, “the next, I’m being called hideous by the royal family and frog marched to a dungeon.”
“None of us can afford to be precious in the entertainment industry.” Viragh’s tail snaked across to rest on Gretchen’s shoulder. “I think you’ll find the bonuses more than fair.”
Gretchen frowned at the tail and scooted her stool further from the fire. “Bonuses?”
“Upon the successful rescue of the damsel in distress, with a heroic account of his deeds.” Viragh winked. “Which means we need to make it look believable.”
Gretchen screwed up her face and shook her head. “Now wouldn’t the damsel in question tell the little upstart that it was a setup?”
The chuckle turned to laughter, and Gretchen gripped the side of the stool. “She, of course, has no idea. We kidnapped the girl a month ago.”
“Hold up, there.” Gretchen stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re telling me you folks capture unsuspecting princesses, lock them away, and negotiate a fee to have a prince come and bust them out? What about the girl’s parents?”
Wisps of smoke escaped Viragh’s nostrils. “After hearing word that their precious daughter has been so valiantly rescued, they agree to a swift marriage and continued friendship between our monarchs.”
“That's the most messed up thing I’ve heard all week.” Gretchen held the bridge of her nose. “And that’s saying something after all the hoo-ha with that drunk dwarf gatecrashing that funeral.”
“Think of us as emissaries of peace in the lands.” Viragh puffed himself up, his head looming near the ceiling. “Without our matchmaking services, things would quickly fall into ruin. Bickering about dowries, squabbles about who is fit to marry whom… it would be disastrous.”
Gretchen opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it.
“Besides, our kind merits fair recognition for the part we play in maintaining a balance in these fair lands. These kinds of talents deserve to be fostered. Patrons of the arts are scarce these days—”
“All right. I get it.” Gretchen waved an arm. “Far be it from me to be a moral compass on this kind of thing. But what is it exactly that I’m supposed to do?”
“We have a script,” the dragon stretched his neck. “Completely choreographed. You’ll threaten him, then he cuts you down. Our job is to make it believable.”
“Cuts me down,” Gretchen narrowed her eyes. “And how likely is it that I’ll end up vanquished in the process?”
Viragh’s eyes darted, and he lowered his head to the floor.
“The company takes its employees' safety very seriously. Accidents are few and far between.”
“I’ll expect danger money, you hear?” Gretchen held her finger up in warning. “When I came up here, having a prince thrust his sword at me wasn’t what I had in mind. Well, maybe not quite what I had in mind, but you get what I’m saying. Ruse or no, if he expects to cut me down, I have no intention of sticking around to be stitched back together.”
“We have the very best in the illusion business at our disposal.” Viragh brushed a talon through the fire. “It will appear as though you went up in a puff of smoke.”
Gretchen grumbled and sank back on her stool pulling off her hat. She had her money on Viragh being the brains of the operation and Mandell being the friendly face for the customers. She lamented what she’d gotten herself into and wondered what state she’d find her house in when she got back. Viragh lifted his head when she cackled.
“Something amusing?”
“Well, at least Mulligan should have the liver out of his system by the time I get back.”
Viragh frowned but didn’t reply.
Chapter 3
Gretchen woke to a green face with pointed ears hovering over her. She sprang up from the haystack she’d curled up in and glared. “Now, who do you think you are there, fella? Waking a poor woman with that ugly mug, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
The goblin chortled and turned to the others speaking in a guttural tongue.
“They’re harmless.”
Gretchen bumped into Viragh as she backed away and jumped. “Didn’t anyone teach them how to be polite?” She ground her teeth at the mirthful rumble.
“Unlikely. They’re known to eat their mother in the nest soon after birth.”
Gretchen curled her lip. “Well, it’s probably a small blessing after having those things crawl out your belly.”
The door to the dungeon swung open, and Mandell wandered in muttering under his breath.
“We have a signed contract and will move out today. One last fancy though. They insisted on a wraith.”
The goblins muttered furiously, and Gretchen stepped aside as Viragh blew a cloud of smoke.