"What if you'd never seen a dragon bond with someone after his draakin died, would you know it then?"
"What do you mean?" She frowned at him.
"I mean," he said, "that if you haven't seen it, you only know it happens because you've been told it does."
"You're saying that just because I can't see people being reborn, doesn't mean it's not happening?"
"Exactly," he said. "If a draakin died, you'd make sure to find someone for the dragon to bond, rather than assuming he or she can't. That's how I feel. I was raised to think a certain way and I'd prefer not to take the chance that my mother and the priests are wrong."
"But I have seen dragons bond again."
"That's why we need faith to believe in some things," he said reasonably.
"We might have to agree to disagree on this."
"I agree with that." He laughed, but felt uneasy. What they had was so new and fragile, and he wondered what they had in common apart from a love of dragons. He hadn't given Euru all that much thought until recently, but now he had, he wasn't going to compromise. People could think as they wished, and he would do the same.
"Are those the men?" Laynin asked, breaking through his thoughts.
Travin's head jerked up. Sure enough, the three men were leaving the tavern and heading in the opposite direction. He let out a sharp breath, relieved he wouldn't have to deal with them again so soon.
"Did you give that one a black eye?" Laynin nudged him with her elbow.
"I might have done." He tried to suppress a smile. "Just remember he started it."
"What are you doing back here?" Borvin's voice boomed out from just inside the door. "I told you you're not welcome."
"Tavern keeper Borvin." Laynin let go of Travin's hand and stepped forward.
"Kindly stay out of this, draakin," Borvin said, polite but blunt. He gave her a shallow bow before turning to Travin. "I made myself clear, did I not?"
Laynin, visibly annoyed at being told to stay out of it, said, "We'd hoped you'd calmed down enough to see reason by now."
Borvin's brow furrowed so deeply his forehead seemed to fold into itself. "Now see here—"
"This is nothing to do with her," Travin said, stepping between them. "The man I was fighting threw the first punch. They'd turned up just to make trouble."
"Aye, and they wouldn't have, had you and your kind not been there stirring the pot to begin with."
"My kind?" Travin echoed. "I've worked hard entertaining your customers for over a year. Some of them come here to hear me sing."
"Not anymore they don't," Borvin said firmly. "Don't think I can't find someone else." He shook a finger a centimetre from Travin's nose.
He was sorely tempted to swat it away.
"You didn't have a bard here for a year before me," he said instead.
"And still people came to eat and drink." Borvin replied, stepping back. "They'll do that with or without you."
"You still owe me for last night," Travin pointed out.
Borvin growled, but reached into his pocket for a handful of braids. He pushed it all at Travin and turned to reenter the tavern.
"That was unpleasant," Laynin remarked, stepping around him and glaring at the door as it closed. "I wonder if he realises how many draakin would stop coming here if I asked them to."
Silence fell for a moment before Travin said, "None of them?"
She sighed. "Probably. They do like it here. But I can stop coming."
"Don't do that on my account." He looked down onto his palm. Borvin had given him enough to keep him comfortably for a few weeks. "In fact, you should go and eat. I just remembered there is something I need to do." He glanced down at his worn boots and shrugged.
She looked as though she was going to argue, but closed her mouth. "All right. I'll see you around then." She leaned in to kiss him, but he turned his face so she caught his cheek instead.
"Yes, I'll see you later." His blasé tone was deliberate, even though seeing the hurt look on her face filled him with guilt. He'd made his choice. A clean break was the only fair thing.
"Right. Bye then." She lingered for a moment longer, then nodded, turned and walked away, hips swinging.
He almost called out after her, but literally bit his tongue to keep from doing so. This was the right thing to do, whether he liked it or not. He cursed Borvin and those men, but tucked the braids into his pocket and started toward his lodgings.
24
Laynin ate sparingly, casting looks in Borvin's direction. He pointedly ignored her. He might have asked her to leave had she not been draakin. Both of them were aware of it, that was obvious from his stiff back every time he passed her table. He did that more times than could possibly have been necessary. If he was hoping she'd leave, she'd disappointed him for an hour or so.
Sami, who smiled warmly and took her empty plate with a thank you, was still welcoming. Or perhaps Borvin didn't confide in his staff. They'd notice soon enough, when Travin didn't turn up to perform.
Laynin shot Borvin a long look before heading out the door. The idea of confronting him was tempting. Between Travin brushing her off, and the further punishment she might receive if Borvin complained to Ara, she decided against it.
She might be a draakin, but Tsaisa was still a relatively small place. Like it or not, that meant not making too many waves. She preferred not to have people be polite to her from behind clenched teeth, and she didn't want to end up having to kill sheep for all of the dragons, or whatever punishment Ara might decide upon.
In many ways, humans have not changed since I was a dragonet, Risper remarked.
Because some of us try to avoid trouble? she asked.
While others seek it, he said. Anger and misunderstanding have fuelled many a battle. The worst is the desire to avoid seeing the perspective of others.
She huffed her agreement and looked back toward the tavern. Some people have narrow minds.
Indeed, he agreed, and some fuel the fire of other people's fear.
That's true. She imagined that was what the leader of those three men had done. He'd found scared friends and goaded them into taking on the priest and his cohort. And then she'd jumped to take Travin's side out of concern for his safety, as well as his job. At least she didn't come out swinging as they apparently had.
Are you suggesting I stay out of Travin's business?
Whether you choose to involve yourself or not is your choice. You have ever done as you please. He sounded amused, rather than scolding.
But? she prompted.
Borvin is scared. He seems unlikely to change his mind.
You were watching that?
You were agitated, I thought it prudent to listen in.
She considered this for a moment. I suppose that's fair enough. Travin won't change his mind either, will he?
It seems unlikely. He is almost as stubborn as you are.
She laughed. That is saying something.
Indeed, he agreed, with no hint of malice at all.
Have you ever— She stopped mid-thought, seeing Travin step out from behind an old house, a bag on his back, another looking like it contained his guitar over one shoulder.
"Going somewhere?" she called out, trotting to catch up.
He shrugged with his shoulder which wasn't supporting his instrument. "I thought my time here was done. I might as well not hang around longer than necessary." His eyes didn't meet hers as he spoke.
Her heart skipped. "Just like that?" she asked, incredulous. "Were you going to say goodbye?"
She stopped and thought back to their moment outside the tavern. "You already did. That's what that was, wasn't it?"
"I thought it would be easier that way," he replied. "On everyone," he added before she could speak.
"I see." She'd been a fool to think the night before had meant anything to him. All the Gods only knew how many times she'd spent a night with someone she didn't care deeply for. She drew in a breath to try to still her mind. There weren
't really that many, certainly less than Zannis or Luthin.
"I could speak to Ara," she said softly. "Maybe she'd give you some work at the hall. You're still a hopeful, after all."
He gave a short laugh. "I think we both know she'd be happier if I was gone. I don't think the fight would help my cause much anyway. There are plenty of candidates for draakin who are more worthy than I am."
"That's not up to you to decide," Laynin said. "The dragons choose."
"I can choose to leave," he said curtly. "I have that right still, don't I?"
She leaned back, surprised at his curt tone. "Yes, you do. You're free to do as you please. I just thought…"
"Thought what?" he asked brows knitted.
"I thought you wanted to bond a dragon more than anything," she said quickly, in case he assumed she was suggesting he cared about her. He evidently didn't. Perhaps she'd been nothing but a bit of fun. For all she knew, he'd planned to move on anyway.
"People change," he said. "I've come to realise there are more important things in life than dragons."
She gaped at him. "Like what?"
"Like my soul. And my freedom. I can go anywhere. I'm not stuck in Tsaisa."
"You have a short memory," she said dryly. "Remember that flight we made down south? I can go places too, with Risper."
"Is the blood out from under your fingernails yet?" he asked. "Or have you forgotten you're grounded because of that journey?"
"As if I could forget," she said sourly. "I can go north any time."
"I don't believe you. I think Ara has you tied here, bound to Tsaisa as you are to Risper."
"I don't regret a moment of it," she retorted.
"Maybe not now, but some day you might."
She clenched and unclenched her hands. "This isn't about me. It's about you running away because things are a bit rough at the moment."
She ignored his snort. "They'll settle down. Borvin might calm down and if he doesn't there are alternatives."
He took a step closer. "You don't understand," he said slowly. "Tsaisa isn't my home. It was never intended to be. The idea of bonding was a nice dream, but it was a silly one. It was never going to happen. I have accepted that, and now I'm moving on."
"You're going south, aren't you?" she asked, cocking her head and challenging him to deny it. "You're going to fight on their side."
"You mean, on the side of my kind?" he said bitterly. "I might just do that. Maybe I'll meet those men again. This time with a sword in my hand. Or my magic."
For a moment she was breathless with surprise at his anger.
"You could die," she said eventually. "It's not too late to change your mind and stay. It's safer here than down there. Mostly," she added, taking in his bruises. "There must be other things you can—"
"I'm leaving," he said firmly. "Nothing you can say would change my mind. Give my regards to Risper and excuse me." He stepped to the side and made to move around her.
"All the Gods, Risper was right," she snapped.
"Risper talked about me?" For a moment he looked like the dragon-obsessed man he'd been the day before.
"He said you were stubborn," she replied. "I don't think you want to leave, you're just doing it to spite Borvin."
He raised his eyebrows. "Am I?"
"Yes. Do you really think he'll care that much?"
"I don't expect he will," Travin replied. "I don't expect anyone will."
"So you're going to go and get yourself killed because you think people in Tsaisa don't care? Have you got sea mist inside your head?"
"Maybe I do, but I'm not staying, so you might as well save your breath. I don't care if you think I'm a… a hazing fool. I'm going south, come what may."
"A hazing—" she shrugged. The word would do as well as any. "You think Euru will keep you safe?"
"In this life or the next," he replied.
She was out of arguments. If he wanted to go and get himself killed, there was nothing she could do about it. She could have Risper detain him, but what would that achieve? More ire from Ara and from him. He wouldn't thank her for it, even if he lived to see the end of whatever was to come.
"All right." She threw her hands in the air. "If that's what you have to do, I suppose I'll wish you well. Goodbye." She turned and started away.
"Laynin," he called out after her.
She turned back, hands on her hips. "What?"
He took a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. Last night was nice. I…I don't want you to think it was just a bit of fun. It meant something. I mean, to me it did."
"Not to me," she lied, "it was just one night, nothing special. I've practically forgotten it already." The expression on his face gave her a stab of guilt, but she walked away and forced herself not to look back.
25
"And then he just left," Laynin said. She flopped down onto Zannis' bed and exhaled gustily. "Over something so silly." She understood where he was coming from with his beliefs. Mostly. But she was frustrated they had made him feel as though he had to leave.
Zannis made a rude noise and kept brushing her hair. "You know what I think? I think it's his loss. Forget about him, there are plenty more men in Tsaisa, much less the kingdoms. Or women. Maybe you should try that some time." Her reflection in the mirror grinned.
"Maybe I should stick to Risper," Laynin said with a sigh.
"If that's your preference," Zannis said, shrugging and resuming brushing her hair.
"Zannis!" Laynin laughed and shook her head. "You know what I mean."
"Do I?" Zannis feigned innocence.
"Will you be serious for just a few minutes?"
Zannis lowered her brush and turned around. "I'm sorry. He was handsome and seemed nice enough. I'm sure he could have been a great draakin, but he's not worth crying over. He's gone. Now, let's go and get something to eat. I can smell bread baking from here."
She sniffed the air and looked pointedly at Laynin. "Come on, you can't mope forever."
"I know." Laynin surprised herself by needing to wipe a tear from her cheek. "It's just the last few days have been difficult and…" She found another tear sliding down her face.
"Oh, don't cry." Zannis was beside her and pulling her into her arms. "I know you're worried about your family, and the problems in the south, and then this, but don't cry, please."
"I'm not crying," Laynin insisted, holding back a sob.
Zannis patted her back and muttered soothing words while Laynin's body shook. She didn't make a sound, she just let her distress flow down her face and soak the front of her friend's shirt.
Finally, she drew back, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face.
"I'm sorry," she said, sniffing. "I didn't mean to dump all this on you."
"What are friends for?" Zannis asked, smiling brightly. "I know I'm not a good friend some of the time. I get caught up in my own things, but I'm here for you, all right?"
"I know." Laynin nodded. "Let's go and eat. That bread does smell delicious."
As she rose, Zannis asked, "Was he good?"
Laynin frowned. "Who?"
"Travin. I heard he spent the night with you. Was he good?"
"That's none of your business," Laynin replied tartly. She lifted her chin and walked out the door.
"So, he was that good. No wonder you were crying."
"I wasn't crying."
"The wet spot on my shirt says otherwise. Speaking of those—"
"Zannis, I'm not telling you anything. You're incorrigible."
Zannis linked arms with her. "That's why you love me so much," she declared.
"Interesting theory," Laynin teased, "it's as good as any I suppose."
"You wound me," Zannis laughed.
"Excuse me," a voice interrupted their banter. "A have a message for Ara Lucretia. Where may I find her?" The carrier was red-faced and looked weary. He must have ridden from the way station at the next town over, to the Dragonhall. For urgent messages, delivery on horseback wa
s the only option for people without a dragon.
"I'll take it to her," Laynin offered.
The messenger looked doubtful for a moment, but handed her a rolled scroll of paper and nodded his thanks.
"I'm sure she won't mind if you eat before you leave," Laynin said. "Zannis can show you where."
"Thank you, I think I will." He looked relieved. Whoever he'd come from, he'd likely been riding for some time.
Zannis tucked her arm through his arm and smiled. "This way then. I'll save you something," she told Laynin over her shoulder.
"All right." Laynin headed off toward Ara's office in the Dragonhall. Thankfully, it was on the ground level, not far from the kitchen.
She knocked on the door and pushed it open. Ara sat at her desk, a pile of paper in front of her.
"A message came for you." She handed the scroll over and stood with her hands behind her back, watching Ara unroll it and frown.
"Is it about the troops coming west?" she asked.
Ara's frown deepened as she looked up. "You're not supposed to know about that," she said, sounding more resigned than angry.
Laynin shrugged. "Sorry. Good news travels quickly."
"Good news," Ara repeated, snorting softly. "It's far from that." She tossed the scroll onto the desk. "Since apparently you already know, King Drexin wants to house troops in Tsaisa and use the dragons to carry messages."
Laynin remembered the messenger's weary face and nodded slowly. "It makes sense. Dragons are faster than anything else at getting around."
"Except gossip," Ara said dryly.
"Except that," Laynin agreed. "So, are you going to let them stay here?"
"I can't keep the king out of Tsaisa," Ara replied, "I don't have that kind of power. But as long as all we do is deliver messages, then I can't see that would hurt." She seemed to make up her mind as she spoke.
Laynin eyed the scroll and wondered if the king had given her any choice. All the Gods knew kings could be pushy. Borvin, on the other hand, was going to be ecstatic. The influx of people to Tsaisa would keep the Dragon's Shell hopping for weeks, maybe months if they were here that long. The king might bring a handful of bards with him too. Either way, Travin might have been out of a job.
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