The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey by Melissa Myers Page B

quick nod to her,
the coach was pulling away. She watched him leave the gates with a
bit of confusion. Why was he in such a hurry? Surely, he would take
an inn until he got another passenger. It surely wasn’t worth it to
him, to leave empty.
    She waved her hand lightly at the dust the
horses had stirred with their leaving, and coughed gently. With a
sigh, she cast a glance about her in hopes she would recognize some
part of Brannaford from her childhood trips to the market with her
father. Her eyes drifted across the gate behind her, and she felt
another sigh. Brannaford barely had a road the last time, let alone
a wall and gate. This part of town didn’t look anything like what
she remembered. She wasn’t even sure these buildings had been here
the last time. She remembered a general store and a stone inn at
the outskirts, but the buildings around her were wooden.
    She turned her attention to the inn behind
her, hoping for a helpful individual. Those hopes quickly died, as
she took in the rundown appearance of the building, and the even
more rundown appearance of the few individuals that sat quietly on
the porch, watching her with mild interest. One of them, a shaggy,
dirty looking fellow, was actually sharpening a knife as he
watched. When her eyes locked on him, he spat something into the
filthy boards before him. She blanched in disgust and turned back
to the gate.
    Surely there were guards posted there that
could offer advice or protection for that matter. She saw no signs
of guards, but saw a cart drawn by two plodding mules, moving ever
so slowly toward her. She felt her hopes rise as it neared. Perhaps
she could hire them to tote her trunks to the docks. She couldn’t
imagine how she was going to get them there otherwise, and she knew
she couldn’t drag them all the way there. She was also sure they
would be stolen if she went to hire someone to carry them. Her
hopes dimmed a bit as the cart creaked closer and she was able to
recognize the cart’s cargo: stacks and stacks of poultry cages
containing some very unhappy chickens. It was still better than
nothing, she thought, as she studied the driver. He seemed a decent
enough looking fellow and a typical farmer. His face was rough and
deeply tanned, but he didn’t have the dangerous look such as the
men behind her at the inn. He had a boy riding on the back of the
wagon who looked to be just slightly younger than she. Both he and
his father seemed on guard, and she didn’t miss the fact that both
had stout wooden cudgels beside them. Still, she had limited
choices, and they appeared to be the best of the ones she had. She
cleared her throat and called out to them. “Excuse me, good sir. I
wonder if I might hire your services.”
    The old man stopped the cart, his expression
full of suspicion as he took in the sight of her, her trunks, and
the array of men behind her now paying closer attention than she
would have liked. “What services would you be wanting, young miss?”
he asked, his eyes more on the men now, than her.
    “My coach dropped me at the gate, and I need
to get to the docks. It would be a simple enough matter if not for
my trunks. I wonder if you might have enough room on the back of
your cart to get me a bit closer.”
    The old man nodded with his focus remaining
keen on the inn’s occupants. “Aye, Thomas. Get her trunks up on the
cart. You girl go ahead and climb on up here.” The boy was moving
before he had finished speaking and already had a trunk loaded
before she could thank him. He was obviously in just as much of a
hurry as her coach driver had been. She took the hint herself and
climbed quickly onto the bench beside the old man. No sooner had
she settled on the seat, than he was clucking to the mules once
again.
    He kept his eye on the inn until they were
well past it and then glanced to her. “Not a good place your coach
left you in. Brannaford’s not a safe place no more. Used to be one
could trade without a worry here on