I frown because I don’t remember a purse strapped to his talon. “Where?”
“Off the horsey, girl.” The woman drops noiselessly to the ground.
Furia backs up before wheeling on himself because we’re surrounded.
Give them my offer!
“I’ll match the king’s reward if you let me pass.”
The jungle goes quiet as though the leaves and insects are also holding their breath.
“You’ve got a hundred gold pieces?” the woman asks.
“Yes.” I glance upward, urging Morrgot to make it rain, but no coins drop from the sky.
Chiseled-face clucks words in a language I don’t understand.
“Lyrial thinks you’re bluffin’.”
I’m taking Morrgot’s prolonged silence as him gathering the coins. “I’m not.”
“Then a hundred for you and another fifty for the horse.”
“What?” My fingers slip along the reins. “That’s—”
Fine. Tell them that’s fine.
I cannot decide whether I’m more glad than worried that he’s around and not scrounging up money from his coffers. “You’ve got yourselves a deal. Now . . .”
More clucking erupts. Liana-hugger says, “We talked amongst ourselves, and we’ve agreed that you accepted too easily.”
“Because I have places to be.”Crows to collect.“You know what, my offer is one-twenty-five. Take it or leave it.”
What are you doing, Fallon?
“No deal.” Lyrial steps up to Liana-hugger’s side and seizes Furia’s reins, not hard enough to yank them from my hands, but hard enough that my stallion can no longer shift around restlessly. “But me and my brothers and sisters wonder, how is a round-eared whore so rich?”
“Whore?”
“We heard where you work, girl.” Liana’s lips are curled in disgust.
I huff in annoyance. “I work in a tavern, not a brothel.” Why does everyone believeBottom of the Jugis a pleasure house? It’s not like it’s calledBottoms and Jugs. The only bottom most patrons ever see is that of a bottle.
Fallon,Morrgot growls.
I disregard his growl. I’d like to see his reaction if anyone referred to his sky city as a dirty nest full of libidinous birds doing the naughty, however it is crows copulate. I’m still uncertain.
The whorls on Lyrial’s face rearrange themselves again. “How is a girl, who works in atavern”—I appreciate him insisting on that word—“so rich?”
“Affluent friends.”
“Affluent?” The curls of ink on his brow move.
Even though I want to be on my way, I clarify the word for the savages’ sake. “Affluent means rich.”
“How rich?”
“Rich rich.”
