Warriors of Wind and Ash (Merciless Dragons #2)

The boy’s eyes widen. He snatches the bauble from my claws and points emphatically to the west. “That way.”

“We can tell you things too!” The other children gather around me. “Do you have any more questions?”

I feel small fingers nudging into my pockets, so I bat them away. “Let’s head for the Capital,” I tell Hinarax.

“But we need supplies first. Food, and other things,” he protests. “Surely we have time for a few purchases.”

“Oh, very well.” I stride through the swarm of little ones, wishing I dared transform and frighten them into giving me space. Accompanied by their pattering feet and eager voices, we enter the village.

Several wooden tables line the main street. Fabric coverings stretched across poles provide shade for the humans and their wares.

“Fresh fish!” bawls a man loudly near my ear.

“Spiced nuts! Currant buns! Meat pies!” squawks a woman from a table across the street. “Two bits for a pie, one for a bun!”

I don’t know what a “bit” is, but she’s selling food. Food for which I do not need to hunt or forage. Food prepared by someone else, ready for the taking, as long as I exchange something for it. The sheer convenience is astounding.

Intrigued, I head for the woman’s table. “I’ll take these, and this, and all of these.” I gesture to most of the food she has laid out.

She peers at me, methodically chewing a wad of green weed. Her eyes linger on my necklaces. “That’ll be two dolems.”

I pull a gem-studded bracelet from my pocket. “Will this do?”

She gapes, and the wad of weed nearly tumbles from her mouth. She pokes the lump back into the side of her cheek and scowls. “You shittin’ me?”

I glance sideways at Hinarax.

“The soldiers used to say that,” he says eagerly. “She doesn’t believe you’re really offering her the bracelet in exchange for the food.”

“I assure you, I mean it,” I tell the woman. “This is my offer.”

She shakes her head. “That’s too much, lad. I ain’t got change for a piece like that.”

“Just take it, then,” I say. “Give us the food.”

“Please,” adds Hinarax.

By now, several adult humans have drawn closer, lured by the haggling and perhaps by the glitter of gemstones. With a suspicious glance at her fellow villagers, the woman snatches the bracelet from me and tucks it into the front of her brown dress.

“You can have it all,” she says. “I’ll wrap it up for you. But mind you eat the pies before sunset. Won’t be no good later than that.”

“Since we apparently overpaid, do you happen to have an extra pair of boots for my friend here?” Hinarax inquires.

“What?” I mutter. “No.”

“You’ll need them, trust me,” he whispers.

The woman nods. “Might have an old pair of Wirram’s boots somewhere about. Wait here.”

She ducks into a weatherbeaten building that looks as if one good nudge from a dragon’s wingtip would topple it. After a few moments she returns with a pair of floppy brown boots. “Here you are.”

“I’ll take those,” says Hinarax quickly. “You can have these.” He sits down on the street, pulls off the black boots, and puts on the worn brown ones.

“Traitor,” I say. “You want those because they look more comfortable.”

He grins up at me, and I shake my head with a brief answering grin.

I pull on the black boots while Hinarax fumbles over the laces of his. Finally he pays one of the bystanders a gold ring to tie them for him, while the vendor packs up the food we purchased, half of it in a large basket, and half in a cloth bag. I claim one of the meat pies and bite into it. To my pleasure and astonishment, it tastes similar to the stew Serylla made for me during the Mordvorren.