Knightswrath (The Dragonkin Trilogy Book 2) by Michael Meyerhofer Page A
Authors: Michael Meyerhofer
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she had perfected the art of seeming to be someone else just by changing her demeanor and replacing her coy swagger with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes. So long as she styled her hair differently—in a plain braid, perhaps—its color would seem like a mere coincidence.
She bought a bowl of spiced stew and two cups of strong wine from a street vendor. The stew was good and the wine even better. She might have bought a third cup, but willpower told her to wait. As much as she wanted to stay as drunk as she’d been on the road, she did not dare in her current disguise—at least, not until she’d hidden her coin.
Three days. She could risk staying in the city no longer. Atheion was a big place, and she could move to a different district each day. Eventually, though, she would swindle enough noblemen and pick enough pockets that she would have to move on. But to where?
Hesod was out of the question. That city was in the hands of the Dhargots, making it no place for a woman—or any man who wasn’t a Dhargot or a sellsword, for that matter. Besides, everyone that she had known there—Queen Sharra, Captain Ailynn, and even Haesha, whose name she’d borrowed—was probably dead.
She buried her rage and considered her options. Lyos wasn’t far, and the city was still free, as far as she’d heard. But with the Dhargots surging east, that might not last long. She watched a few Noshan children run through the streets, waving at their father as he set out on a fishing boat. She wondered if the Dhargots would try to claim Atheion, too. It was certainly a fine target, nestled in a fertile valley in a time when many of the northern realms were reeling from food shortages. But even the Dhargots might not be so ambitious as to attempt extending their empire all the way to the midlands.
She made her way down Atheion’s streets then over a bridge that swayed like a ferry. She wished she hadn’t been so hostile toward that pompous Knight of the Crane. She needed a fresh start, and his fancy Isle sword, with its exquisite dragonbone hilt, might have fetched enough coin to start a tavern or a brothel of her own. But seeing him had only reminded her of the stories she’d heard about the courage and honor of Isle Knights and how none of them had arrived to prevent Hesod from being put to the sword.
Not their fault, I suppose. They’re on the other end of the damn continent! Besides, coin is coin.
She considered looking for the Knight, but she was not a cleric of Dyoni anymore. Meeting him again would require too much explanation and raise too much suspicion. Besides, she doubted even her talents could soothe his injured pride. But if she knew where the Knight was staying, she might slip in and steal the sword while he slept. Surely, Atheion did not have frequent visitors from the Lotus Isles. Finding him would be a simple matter of asking around.
Then again, even if she got into the Knight’s room undetected and evaded the suspicious Dwarr, she would have to contend with the wytch.
That platinum-haired Shel’ai watched over her bumbling Knight with a fierceness that seemed somewhere between a jealous but aloof lover and a mother wolf safeguarding her cubs. Haesha did not fear men or swords, but magic was another matter. She pushed the thought from her mind—at least for the moment.
She stopped to ask a passing merchant what inn he would recommend, mostly to practice the halting, nervous voice of her new identity. The man answered, and she thanked him without even robbing him.
When she reached the inn, Noshan guards stood outside. She tensed but reminded herself that they could not have been there for her. Not yet. Nevertheless, she decided to move on. She found a less fancy but adequate inn just down the street. She paid for her room and went up to hide the bulk of her coins. Stashing them under the straw mattress would have been too obvious, so she used her stolen dagger to pry up a loose floorboard. She checked the
She bought a bowl of spiced stew and two cups of strong wine from a street vendor. The stew was good and the wine even better. She might have bought a third cup, but willpower told her to wait. As much as she wanted to stay as drunk as she’d been on the road, she did not dare in her current disguise—at least, not until she’d hidden her coin.
Three days. She could risk staying in the city no longer. Atheion was a big place, and she could move to a different district each day. Eventually, though, she would swindle enough noblemen and pick enough pockets that she would have to move on. But to where?
Hesod was out of the question. That city was in the hands of the Dhargots, making it no place for a woman—or any man who wasn’t a Dhargot or a sellsword, for that matter. Besides, everyone that she had known there—Queen Sharra, Captain Ailynn, and even Haesha, whose name she’d borrowed—was probably dead.
She buried her rage and considered her options. Lyos wasn’t far, and the city was still free, as far as she’d heard. But with the Dhargots surging east, that might not last long. She watched a few Noshan children run through the streets, waving at their father as he set out on a fishing boat. She wondered if the Dhargots would try to claim Atheion, too. It was certainly a fine target, nestled in a fertile valley in a time when many of the northern realms were reeling from food shortages. But even the Dhargots might not be so ambitious as to attempt extending their empire all the way to the midlands.
She made her way down Atheion’s streets then over a bridge that swayed like a ferry. She wished she hadn’t been so hostile toward that pompous Knight of the Crane. She needed a fresh start, and his fancy Isle sword, with its exquisite dragonbone hilt, might have fetched enough coin to start a tavern or a brothel of her own. But seeing him had only reminded her of the stories she’d heard about the courage and honor of Isle Knights and how none of them had arrived to prevent Hesod from being put to the sword.
Not their fault, I suppose. They’re on the other end of the damn continent! Besides, coin is coin.
She considered looking for the Knight, but she was not a cleric of Dyoni anymore. Meeting him again would require too much explanation and raise too much suspicion. Besides, she doubted even her talents could soothe his injured pride. But if she knew where the Knight was staying, she might slip in and steal the sword while he slept. Surely, Atheion did not have frequent visitors from the Lotus Isles. Finding him would be a simple matter of asking around.
Then again, even if she got into the Knight’s room undetected and evaded the suspicious Dwarr, she would have to contend with the wytch.
That platinum-haired Shel’ai watched over her bumbling Knight with a fierceness that seemed somewhere between a jealous but aloof lover and a mother wolf safeguarding her cubs. Haesha did not fear men or swords, but magic was another matter. She pushed the thought from her mind—at least for the moment.
She stopped to ask a passing merchant what inn he would recommend, mostly to practice the halting, nervous voice of her new identity. The man answered, and she thanked him without even robbing him.
When she reached the inn, Noshan guards stood outside. She tensed but reminded herself that they could not have been there for her. Not yet. Nevertheless, she decided to move on. She found a less fancy but adequate inn just down the street. She paid for her room and went up to hide the bulk of her coins. Stashing them under the straw mattress would have been too obvious, so she used her stolen dagger to pry up a loose floorboard. She checked the
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