Something of a distraction along the road. Now there was none, and Charm drew closer by the hour. I had to face the fact that trouble beckoned.
The bulk of the Annals, which my companions believed to be in my possession, remained in Imperial hands. They had been captured at Queen's Bridge, an old defeat that still stings. I was promised their return shortly before the crisis in the Barrowland. But that crisis prevented their delivery. Afterward, there was nothing to do but go fetch them myself.
Chapter Three: A TAVERN IN TAGLIOS
Willow scrunched a little more comfortably into his chair. The girls giggled and dared one another to touch his cornsilk hair. The one with the most promising eyes reached, ran her fingers down its length. Willow looked across the room, winked at Cordy Mather.
This was the life—till their fathers and brothers got wise. This was every man's dream—with the same old lethal risks a-sneaking. If it kept on, and did not catch up, he'd soon weigh four hundred pounds and be the happiest slug in Taglios.
Who would have thought it? A simple tavern in a straitlaced burg like this. A hole in the wall like those that graced every other street corner back home, here such a novelty they couldn't help getting rich. If the priests didn't get over their inertia and shove a stick into the spokes.
Of course, it helped them being exotic outlanders that the whole city wanted to see. Even those priests. And their little chickies. Especially their little brown daughters.
A long, insane journey getting here, but worth every dreadful step now.
He folded his hands upon his chest and let the girls take what liberties they wanted. He could handle it. He could put up with it.
He watched Cordy tap another barrel of the bitter, third-rate green beer he'd brewed. These Taglian fools paid three times what it was worth. What kind of a place never ran into beer before? Hell. The kind of place guys with no special talents and itchy feet dream of finding.