Free The Dragon's Lair by Elizabeth Haydon

the sacks, and mounted again.
    " Het ," he said to the horses. The team lunged forward, dragging the wagon, then smoothly began the journey east toward the Inn.
    "How are you feeling, Amariel?" Ven asked as they slid down below the sides of the wagon, trying to get comfortable.
    "Like one of the fish in that cart."
    "Oh," Ven said. "I'm sorry it's been a difficult morning. But it will get easier once we're on our way."
    "It had better," said the merrow. "For your sake."
    Ven couldn't help but smile. "At least you're not going human," he said. "You still sound very merrow to me."
    "Thank goodness for that," Amariel said. "Just make certain no one but you touches my cap."
    "I will," Ven promised.
    The wagon rumbled east into the rising sun. As it climbed higher in the sky the birdsong became louder and the warm wind picked up, rustling the bags and the children's hair. Amariel smoothed the scales that had once formed her tail, looking nervous as they grew drier.
    "I hope when I return to the sea this will go back to being the way it was," she said. "I really did have a very beautiful tail."
    "Yes, you did, and I'm sure you will again," Ven said. "Try not to worry."
    "Don't tell me what to do," said the merrow. "I'll worry if I want to. It's not your tail. Hmmph."
    In the distance a dog began to bark. A moment later, another joined in, then another. Ven shifted to his side and peered between the slats in the wagon.
    Up ahead to the south he saw the gleaming walls of the White Fern Inn.
    Mr. Whiting, the owner, was standing in the middle of the lush green front lawn, whitewashing the sign. He put down his brush, then turned and looked in the direction of the wagon.
    Ven's stomach sank.
    Mr. Whiting is one of the most evil men I have ever met, maybe the most evil. He accused me of theft and murder and had me arrested and locked up in the palace dungeon while the king was away on a state visit. His guard dogs are evil as well. They about tore my friend Nick to shreds on his way home from town one night. Mr. Whiting used them to frighten people away from the Crossroads Inn so that his own place would always be full. He even got Vincent Cadwalder, the steward of Hare Warren, to work with him against Mrs. Snodgrass. I find that strangest of all, since Cadwalder's own parents were murdered at the crossroads when he was a baby, and Mrs. Snodgrass took him in. She has been as much a substitute mother to him as she is to everyone else who lives in Hare Warren or Mouse Lodge .
    Mr. Whiting had to pay to repair the damage his dogs did to the Crossroads Inn, and has been warned by the constable to stay away from it, and from me. The fact that Mrs. Snodgrass did not take everything he owned, or, worse yet, have her husband visit him along with the crew of the Serelinda, shows what a forgiving and kind woman she is. She even forgave Cadwalder, whom she had taken care of all his life .
    I am not as forgiving as Mrs. Snodgrass .
    I still don't understand why Mr. Whiting is not in jail .
    The muscular dogs barked even louder as the wagon came nearer to the White Fern Inn. They chased each other around in their pen, faster and faster, becoming one great swirl of black and brown fur and snarling teeth. One of them sent up a baying howl, and the others joined in, filling the air with the sound of unnatural screaming.
    The horses slowed their pace. Ven could hear Tuck speaking softly to them, encouraging them forward.
    Ven reached over and took Amariel's hand. It was shaking.
    "Don't worry," he whispered. "They're behind a fence."
    "Don't speak, children," Tuck said.
    Ven jumped. His words to Amariel had been as soft as he could make them. He was not sure she had even heard him over the hoofbeats, the creaking of the wagon, and the noise of the howling dogs. Tuck's ears are very sensitive , he thought. It must be a Lirin trait, because McLean has it, too .
    The wagon rolled on, even more slowly. Ven lay as low as he could behind the sacks of food and