Nodding to himself, he started toward the mouth of the alley. He paused when he noticed Ragnar and I had made no move to follow him.
He frowned back at us. “Well, come along now. We should get going so we can be back by sundown.”
“No need. You won’t find any food at Ivar’s house,” Ragnar said quietly.
Clearly perplexed, Steffon scratched his chin. “What are you talking about? You just said he took it all.”
“He did. But it’s not at his house anymore,” I said.
Steffon propped fisted hands on his waist. “Well, then all the more reason to get moving so we can catch up to him. He’s likely taking it to Milford so he can sell it at their market. They haven’t banned him there. Yet.”
Shifting on the crate, I exchanged a glance with Ragnar. I didn’t really know how to explain that my dragon had eaten some of the food, simply because none of the Riverwold townspeople—other than Nilsa—knew about him. And I didn’t think now was a wonderful time to terrify them with this information. Tensions were already so high.
But I didn’t much like half-truths, either. I’d played a part in this, and I should come clean, if only so Steffon understood the full weight of what we faced. The food was gone. There was no getting it back.
I cleared my throat. “Ivar sold a lot of it to a ship that just passed through. And the rest of it, well…you know how my brother has been keeping four adolescent dragons.”
Steffon paled. “Everyone in the Isles knows about that. What does that have to do with Ivar? Don’t tell me he stole a dragon, too. We’ll have to evacuate the town.” He wrung his hands. “He’ll try to—”
“The dragon is mine,” I said firmly.
“What?”
“I’m the one with the dragon. Not Ivar,” I repeated, standing. “And he’s been with me for years, following me around the Isles while I wander from town to town with my Traveling Tavern. He’s always stayed out of sight until now, but as he gets older, his courage grows with him. And well, he found Ivar’s cart of stolen food, then ate it all. I suppose he was a little hungry…”
Ragnar’s lips twitched; merriment danced in his eyes. A part of me saw the humor in it, too, but I knew Steffon too well to laugh about this right in front of him. His shadows were very agitated, whipping around his body like angry black wasps.
For a long moment, Steffon didn’t answer. I braced myself for his rebuke. But eventually, his shoulders slumped, the shadows stilled, and he sighed. “Well, at least someone got to enjoy the food. I’m afraid itdoesmean I’ll have to call off the festival, though. I suppose it’s for the best with the way the weather’s been. It’s just not fated to happen this year.”
“Wait.” I took a step toward him. “You’re not angry about the dragon?”
Steffon’s expression softened. “Lilia, I’ve known about your dragon for years now. We all have. We’ve seen him soaring through the sky every time you’ve arrived for Yule. Didn’t take much to put two and two together.”
“I thought everyone in Riverwold was terrified of the dragons.”
He shrugged. “They were, but I think they’re coming around to it now. It’s been a few years and nothing terrible has happened yet. Besides, we all love you and know you’d never do anything to put anyone in danger. And if you care for that dragon, well, he can’t be so bad, now can he?”
“Oh.” I found myself looking over my shoulder at Ragnar, searching for his gaze. He smiled encouragingly.
“Anyway.” Steffon sighed. “I best get this over with.”
I touched his arm. “No, wait. Don’t cancel Yule just yet. We can sort this out.”
“Unless your dragon can give us back that food, I don’t see how we can possibly continue on.”
“We still have all our performers,” I tried. “Plus, there’s all the merchants selling ribbons, smoking pipes, candles, clothes, and books. I even saw someone with a blacksmith stand. There are some gorgeous metal sculptures for sale.”
“The feast is the most important part of Yule,” he said sadly. “And while I know it’s not the end of the world, it wouldn’t be the same without your ale, Lilia. Everyone gets so lively and happy, clanking their tankards and dancing to the music.”
I nodded. “I’m working on the ale. Don’t you worry about that. As far as the food is concerned…let me call in a favor from a friend of mine. I think I can get enough food for Yule if you and Nilsa can manage to keep people fed until then.”
Steffon took a few halting steps toward me, then grasped my hands. Imploringly, he searched my eyes, his shadows coming alive again. “You can do this, truly?”
“I think so, Steffon. I’ll do my best.” After all, it was partially my fault.
“May Freya bless you,” he murmured. A beaming smile stretched across his lips. With a quick kiss on my forehead, he released my hands and started to bustle toward the mouth of the alley, calling out behind him, “I’ll reassure everyone that the festival will go on. Yule may be saved after all!”
Once he’d vanished around the corner, Ragnar stepped up to my side, folding his arms. “That was quite the promise you made. Can you really get enough food for Yule?”
