“May I get you a coffee? Or some ale? We have eggs with vegetables and bread?—”
“A coffee would be nice, thank you, sir,” Sonah said distractedly.
Sonah turned her attention back to the green-robed man. When the innkeeper returned with her coffee, she barely acknowledged him. She raised the steaming mug to her lips, her eyes still on her quarry, then yelped.
All eyes turned to her as she shot to her feet, cursing as her hand jerked and she hissed at the burn of coffee when it splashedon her hand. Her other hand flew to her stinging mouth, her eyes watering as she set the coffee down.
So much for remaining unseen.
The innkeeper rushed over. Before he could get to her, another man was beside her. Glancing up, Sonah swore again.
Soldier.
“Sonah?”
Sonah stiffened. Her eyes widened and she twisted, blood leeching from her face when she took a good look at the soldier.
Of all the ill luck. And on her very first solo quest.
“Fane?”
CHEVALA, LAKONIA
Days after discovering Sonah’s abandoned camp, Daris still had not found her. They’d stuck to the wooded areas and checked in the smaller villages as they made their way north, but no one had seen a blonde woman either alone or in the company of anyone traveling that way.
Frustrated, he called a halt an hour after dusk as they neared Chevela, a town south of the Pyranos Mountains. A few more days and they’d reach Messene, where he planned to stop and seek out the oracle’s guidance if he hadn’t found Sonah by then.
After stabling the horses, Jason led the way to the nearest tavern. Daris hung at the back of the group as they walked. He pulled off the leather eyepatch and rubbed at the scar over hiseye. Letting out a sigh as his muscles relaxed a bit, he fitted the patch back over his eye and followed his men into the tavern.
The low murmur of conversations greeted them as they filed inside. Taking a seat at the only vacant table, Daris glanced around again, his eye narrowing as he took in the hard look of the men in the establishment. There was no laughter, no jovial conversation. Even the way they drank their ale or ate their food seemed menacing.
Something was wrong here.
“Get you anything?” the barmaid asked in the common tongue. She had a scarf over her brown hair and she scratched at a rash marring the column of her neck. Her eyes darted around, first at Daris and his men, then the men at the tables closest to them.
Daris smiled warmly at the young woman and answered her in Greek, ordering pitchers of ale for the table and water for himself.
As the barmaid hustled away, Daris sat back in his chair.
There were four men at the table to his right. All of them wore similar clothes: dark, nondescript garments and hooded cloaks. Two of them had their hoods up, even though the tavern was warmed by a fire in the large hearth on the far side. On his left, a man wearing a black kerchief on his head watched him over the rim of his tankard.
When he caught Daris’s eye, he sneered at him, but didn’t look away.
“It’s about to get interesting, boys,” Jason muttered. The others shifted, bracing for what they all knew was coming.
A moment later, the barmaid returned with three pitchers. “I’ll be back with your water and tankards for the ale,” she mumbled. Before she turned away, Daris caught her wrist.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked the girl in a low voice.
Startled, the barmaid looked over at him; her face was pale. She gave herself away by glancing to his left before shaking her head quickly. “No, lord. Just busy. As you see.”
Daris let go of the girl and she hurried away.
Sitting back slowly, Daris shifted his gaze to his left and saw two men leaning forward, their eyes narrowed with scowls on their lips.
Daris turned his head to face them, staring them down. He kept his face neutral, unwilling to instigate, but fully prepared to engage if need be.
One man scoffed and broke the stare by taking a swig of his ale. Conversations resumed, and his men mumbled thanks when the girl returned with their tankards.
