Page 51

“No, but if you’re looking directly at Omni, I’m sure Revel can figure out the words.”

“Is that right?” A few rays of sun came through the mist, and I pushed the hood off my head. “That’s good to know.”

We passed a tall barn with a rust-colored sliding door. A crooked sign with the hand-painted letters Smithy hung on a post outside. Black iron cooking pots and hand tools were stacked outside on a crude wooden table. The pounding of iron and a hot red glow blasted through the open doors. “I just realized there are no horses in Norvale. I wish there were. I’d love to trot around town on the back of a horse,” I said.

“You know how to ride?” she asked skeptically.

“Nope, only been on a few ponies at the local carnival. Does anyone have a horse?”

“Not since I’ve been born, though my dad had one when he was younger. They were too hard to keep here in Norvale. Barns were used for drying fish and herbs and keeping animals that gave milk or eggs. Besides, Valians used dragons for battle and for distance travel. At least, back when they were still flyers. They breed horses in Lowengate, where Austri was born, but since no one dares take a cargo ship across the Blackforge Sea anymore, the last horses here died out and were never replaced. People use donkeys and oxen for carts and around their farms.”

We reached a small farm where crops of amaranth and vegetables were growing in neatly plowed lines. The house looked bigger than most, and its window frames were painted blue. Lyric noticed me admiring it.

“That’s Revel’s place,” she said. Her casual proclamation produced far too significant of a reaction in me. She pressed back a smile.

“What? I was just going to say ‘That’s why the roof is taller than most cottages.’ Otherwise, I couldn’t care less. I haven’t seen him since that day in the village when⁠—”

“When you saved everyone from a horrible death?” she asked. “Well done, my friend.”

“That might be an exaggeration, and I’m just glad I could help. But there must be some way to get rid of those awful fish. I thought the Valian were expert fishermen.”

“They were, but when Calista cursed the Blackforge, first with the Kraken and then the Krakatow, the whole character of the sea changed. It became too dangerous and unpredictable to cross.”

“I wonder if that would change once you get rid of the Krakatow,” I said.

She shrugged. “We’ll never know because there’s no way to get rid of them.” We turned the corner. The Black Dragon’s sign had seen better days. I was sure the black dragon holding the pint of ale in his talons was at one point much crisper, but constant moisture and weather had faded the sign so badly the dragon was a bluish gray, and the pint of ale had lost most of its frothy top. The place was the very definition of a hole in the wall. In fact, the small wooden door that led into the tavern was round, like the door you’d expect on a hobbit house. I chuckled to myself thinking about the contortions Revel would have to put himself into to get through the hobbit-sized opening. On the other hand, the round opening seemed the perfect match for Austri. His distinctive laugh met us as we stepped inside.

It was still a few hours before dusk, but the place was packed. A few people turned from their drinks just long enough to find out who’d entered. Since my five-second warning during the last sea surge, I’d found that the townsfolk stared at me with less curiosity and worry. I even earned many more hellos and smiles now.

I glanced down as something crunched under my boots. Grit. The floor was covered with it, and the yeasty smell of ale was almost strong enough to overpower the smell of sweat in the room. Conversations, laughter and even a few terse arguments drowned out the fiddle player, a man with exceptionally long fingers who sat on a stool near the bar. His tune was hard to hear, but it sounded pleasant and folksy, like something you could dance to if you’d had enough ale. A few candles sputtered on iron wall sconces, but the damp air inside the tavern kept the flames at a minimum, which, in turn, kept the whole room bathed in shadows. Each table had its own lantern, but not all of them were lit.

A large man with enough hair and beard to make a grizzly bear jealous stood behind the bar counter, filling pewter steins. The tavern was furnished with heavy wooden furniture that looked splintery and uninviting. And in the middle of all the dark shadows, gritty floor and primitive furniture, a wall decoration of brightly painted sunflowers stood out like a chocolate chip cookie in a bowl of broccoli. It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense with the rest of the ambience in the room, but it made me smile. I loved inconsistencies, and the sunflowers were definitely that.

A cheer thundered through the dark tavern, pulling our attention to the end of the room where a lantern hung over a dartboard on the wall. Austri’s fiery red hair glowed in the lantern light as he walked to the board and pulled three darts free. “And I’ll take that wager in ale.” He held up the darts. “One for each.”

The crowd around the dartboard parted. Austri’s red hair dimmed in comparison to Madigan’s snow-white locks. Lyric and I walked across the debris-covered floor to our two friends. Austri’s face broke wide with a grin when he spotted us.

“Oy, would you look who came,” Austri chortled. He waved us over to a table in the back corner. Madigan joined us.

“Uh, before you sit, Madi, don’t forget this is your round, and grab two extra for Lyric and Rafi.” He flashed a smug grin.

Madigan looked pointedly at me. I nodded. “I’ll give it a try, and if I don’t like it, you can have mine.”

“Fair enough.” Madigan went off to get the ale.

“Haven’t seen ya, Rafi,” Austri said.

“That’s because you’re always holed up in this crummy tavern,” Lyric noted.

“Ah, you exaggerate, Lyric. I leave the bar at least once a day.” He laughed loudly at his own remark.

Madigan returned with two fists full of pints. She lowered them to the table. I lifted the drink to my nose and took a sniff of the foamy top before pressing my lips to the rim. One short sip and I winced. It was far more bitter than I expected. I also hadn’t expected to have an audience for my virgin sip of Black Dragon ale. The trio stared at me just as they had from my shelf all those years.

“Well?” Lyric already had a foam moustache, which she cleaned with a flick of her tongue.

“Uh, it’s not chocolate milk, or coffee, or, for that matter, beer—a drink that I’m not fond of either.”

I smiled at Madigan and pushed the tankard her direction.