Chapter Sixteen #2
“True, and a fucking marvelous aphrodisiac.” My gaze darted to my host in time to catch a lascivious smile on that stunning face.
He was almost too pretty. Very much unlike my Asdren, who possessed a rugged masculinity.
“Sorry, I digressed. A missive informed me that an attractive elf with ginger root hair was met at the main gate. It was easy to add two and two and arrive at four. See, I have had you followed since you arrived at our gates. A raven flew out to meet us as we were pushing through some rough seas on our way home. The note was from Hyla Everwind, who is not only a dear family friend but served as my wet nurse for the first two years of my life. She sailed the seas with my father for many years afterwards, losing her leg to a shark that she fought off to save my life when I toddled off the side of the Cloud’s Shame as a toddler.
Father gave her a home, a job, and all the free rum she could handle, which is quite a lot of rum.
Oh, and he had her leg made for her by a wood elf gifted in woodworking. ”
Ah. Well, that explained a great deal. The man was as clever as a fox. “I see. So my hair gave me away.”
“It did, but do not think that you need to hack it off again. According to Hyla, it was quite striking. After her note about the redheaded, freckled elf who was too attractive for this shitty town, she relayed she had seen you again with the red hair gone. That, she said, was suspicious, so she sent a raven asking for my thoughts. I told her to follow you, and she has, everywhere, even to the bathatorium, which is how I knew where to send the mat boy with my note. Finding out your lineage was easy enough. Few elves have your hair coloring and many here know of your sire. They say you resemble him strongly. Two added to two makes four, as I said earlier. You see, we all know each other quite well here in the Quay, so when an elf such as you shows up asking questions about one of our own…”
“I understand. It was much the same in the bandit camps.” He nodded silently. “I have come from Celear.” That got me a soft tip of his head, satiny black hair sliding over his bare shoulder. “At the request of the Ivory King.”
“The bounty he placed upon my father is null and void. You may tell Grimmane that when you return to his side. My father died last winter in a violent gale that nearly claimed all on board. I have been the captain of the Cloud’s Shame since he was returned to the Stormhold.”
I caught the faint glimmer of pain in his eyes before it was gone. “I am sorry for your loss.” He inclined his head with an elegant flair. “It is not the bounty on your father or you.”
“Then what would bring you and the Sable Legion all the way from Celear to Quinn’s Quay if not for blood or money?
” He leaned forward seawater-colored eyes filled with questions.
“I’m curious as to what brings you to my little alehouse slash bordello.
I don’t think we fucked in the past. I would recall bedding a ginger root elf with such glorious green eyes.
Nor have I left you quickening with my bastard offspring.
Not that I do that on the regular, I’m quite careful about ensuring my spend only goes into the most willing of arses. Cuts down on by-blows and bastards.”
“I…no,” I stammered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I have a letter, sealed, hidden away to deliver to you.”
He sat back, the legs of his chair thudding to the floorboards. “Then let me see this letter from the king. And if I discover you are lying to me, I will have you tossed into the sea with an anchor for an anklet.”
I stood. The dragon in my underthings popped free of my clothing, wiggling out from under my breastplate to land on the table. Coelum shoved back so quickly that his chair toppled over. The two elves in his bed did not twitch.
“May the sea witches bless us,” Cadere whispered, his eyes wide.
Jaculi hissed then did his best to either cough up a scaleball or expel frost. A short, raspy hack was all he managed, which was not at all fearsome.
Coelum righted his chair, smiling now, widely, and sat back down. “Is that a dragonling?”
“It is, and it is mine, so do not offer to purchase him or take him from me,” I snarled, just like my wyrmling now making his way in an awkward sideways gait to the roasted pig.
“No, no, I would not dream of it,” he replied, his sight locked on Jaculi. “He is free to avail himself of the food. Where did you find him? Does he know Elven? Does he speak?”
“In a cave, yes, he knows Elven, and only to me via our minds.”
“I see. I have read of wyrmwardens but never imagined that I would meet one as these beasts are thought to be extinct. Does it have a name?”
“It does, but I am not sure he wishes me to share it with you.”
“Fair enough.” He sat back in his seat, enthralled by the dragonling trying to rip a front leg from a piglet.
The snarling taking place was quite fierce.
While Jaculi gorged, I slid my saddlebag from my shoulder and dug inside, lifting a small bit of leather laid over the bottom.
From there, I slid out a sheaf of vellum, dusty and water-spotted after the long trip, but still bearing Aelir’s personal seal.
Coelum eyed the letter with confusion before cracking the seal. “Sit. Eat. Nothing is poisoned.”
He rose from the table to move to the small fireplace.
There he stood, plum trousers slipping down lean hips, to read the letter from his brother.
I took a seat, filled a plate with fat black olives, pickles, and soft brown bread.
The silence was broken only by gentle snores and the sound of a dragon chewing pork.
That is the supposed prince?
Yes, he is.
You are sure?
Yes. He looks like King Aelir. The court mages will be able to ascertain his lineage with some rites that include rare regents.
Ah, yes, royal bloodlines glow brighter in ancient nodes.
I chewed, unsure of what a node was or how this small wyrm held so much knowledge for being recently hatched.
When the goddess said that dragons remember what the mountains have forgotten, she spoke true.
They came into this life possessed of wisdom that was vast and grew like the deep forests.
Through deep memory that was instinctual perhaps.
It was beyond my limited knowledge and best left to the arch druids back in Celear.
Coelum exhaled slowly, the missive in his now shaking hand. When he turned from the fire, his gaze met mine.
“This letter…” He held out the thick paper. “This is true?”
I had no knowledge of what had been said but assumed it was an explanation of the possibility of Coelum being nobility.
“The king believes it to be, yes. That is why I was tasked to find you.” I said around a half a dozen olives soaked in thick Sandrayan oil. My swallow was loud. The room was deathly quiet. Even Jaculi seemed to sense the import of the moment, for his chewing was subdued.
He nodded just once, handsome face set in stone then flung the letter to the table. It fluttered down to land beside a platter of plump figs, melon chunks, and a large blood orange. Obviously, the Cloud’s Shame had recently returned from the Black Sands.
“You stay here. Do not leave this room until directed to do so. I’ll send your partner up to join you,” Cadere stated with zero emotion, but his azure eyes were alive with feeling. He pointed a finger bearing a slim gold band at me. “I need to discuss this with my first mate.”
Off he went, plum trousers swirling about his ankles. I watched as the door opened and he spoke to Prescott in hushed tones before the door was closed once more. My sight met Jaculi’s. His snout and face were shiny from pork fat.
He seems upset.
Yes. Yes, he is upset.
Why are elves always so impassioned?
We are people that feel deeply, the queen once told me.
She is correct. I am not sure if that is a boon or a blight.
Neither am I.
A soft rapping at the lone circular window pulled my attention. Click sat on the sill. I rose and hurried around the bed to open the porthole. The raven flew in, landed on the table, and began feasting on plump grapes.
The door opened. Prescott strode in and walked to the bed where I stood, hand still on the window.
Without a word, he hoisted one and then the other unconscious naked males to his shoulders.
Off he went, silent as the night, turning sideways to fit through the doorway.
The door closed. I looked at my companions, one glutting on grapes while the other guarded the pig like a kennel hound guards a bone.
Just as I was about to scold Jaculi—for ravens are fond of meat as well—the door blew open.
Asdren rushed in, eyes round, meaty hands fisted.
“Chirp, you all right?” he asked, glancing about for an enemy to pummel. He was protective. That touched me. “Some elf woman with a peg leg told me I was to join you.”
“I am fine. Our host has been gracious. For a pirate.”
He lowered his fists before walking over to the table to shoo the dragon from the pig. Jaculi snapped and sputtered out a tiny bit of ice that melted within seconds. I heard Asdren’s stomach roar from across the room.
“Not sure we can cast stones being what we are, Chirp,” he answered.
“True. You may eat. I have had several of the offerings as have Click and Jaculi.” I moved around the bed to join him.
He sat, threw his beard over one shoulder, and broke a rib off the pig with a sharp crack.
I sat with my legs folded into a knot as he dove into the fare.
Jaculi took a seat to begin cleaning the grease from his scales like a well-fed cat.
Click moved from grapes to cheese, pecking at the small yellow cubes.
“What’s going on? Is he the lost elf we seek?” he asked before biting off a charred bit of pork.