Free Dragon-Ridden by T.A. White

wave of his arms. “Any friend of Jost’s is a friend of mine. He saved
my life once, you know.”
    “Really?” Tate asked. She shot a
glance at Jost. “I’d really like to hear that story some day.”
    Jost grinned at her but shook his
head. “Perhaps some other time. Today we celebrate, because tomorrow the
Marauder sails with the morning tide.”
    Trent’s mouth dropped open, and
even Danny looked surprised at their captain’s news. Ricky sighed and shook his
head. He said his goodbyes and after a few more minutes of idle chat, bid them
safe journey. With surprising agility for such a big man, he made his way back
to the kitchen, hopefully for the dessert he’d promised them.
    “So soon? I thought we’d be here
another week.” Tate bit her lip nervously. The food she’d eaten twisted in her
stomach.
    She hadn’t finished making plans.
She wasn’t ready. She’d been counting on that week to get everything into
place. Why now? Her earlier paranoia came back full force. Was Jost trying to
stop her?
    “We picked up another contract that
requires us to leave immediately,” he said, his eyes steady on Tate’s. “I’d
hoped to be here a little longer, but business awaits. Ryu will be staying
behind to take care of other matters.”
    Tate ducked her head and scraped
her spoon along her plate. She’d already eaten everything. All that remained
was some of the broth.
    What was she going to do? Did she
take the chance and leave, knowing Ryu was lurking somewhere in the city? Or
did she try to make it to the next port? It’d be dangerous, but she’d made it
eight months, a few more weeks shouldn’t be too bad. She’d just make sure she
was extra careful— keep either Danny or Riply around her at all times.
    Tate liked that plan. Aurelia was
nice, but she didn’t want to run around without having some form of a plan.
    Trent stuffed his mouth with a
piece of bread, his cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk’s. He looked even more
disappointed in the turn of events than Tate. Danny took a long sip of his beer
and shot a glance at Jost whose laugh boomed out of his chest. If there hadn’t
been a noise dampener at their table, they’d probably have drawn the notice of
the entire tavern.
    “Don’t look so glum. We’ll circle
back to Aurelia in a few week’s time,” he told them.
    “It won’t be the same,” Trent
muttered. “The Donza Festival will be over.”
    A steely glint came into Jost’s
eye. He didn’t tolerate insubordination. From anyone. Ever. “Oh?” he asked
arching one brow. His voice had taken on that quiet lethality it sometimes had
when he was angered.
    Trent didn’t say anything else and
kept his gaze focused on his hands.
    “Is there a problem, boy?” Jost
asked.
    Trent shook his head and said in a
small voice, “No, sir.”
    “Good.” Jost looked over at the
rest of them. “This is a ship, and though I allow some leeway, I will not
tolerate anyone questioning my orders. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” they chorused.
    Danny patted Trent on the shoulder
in commiseration. It was never fun to receive a dressing down in public. Though
Jost was relaxed as captains went, he was not a friend, and Trent had made a
mistake in thinking he could speak to him as one. The discipline and morale of
the ship required that Jost maintain its hierarchy.
    “Enough about business,” Jost said
gesturing a serving wench over. “Get us a round of Flaming Crickets.”
    “Oh boy,” Tate muttered. It was
going to be an interesting night.

Chapter Four
     
    The flaming drinks were just the
first of many. When Jost climbed on top of the bar to sing a ribald version of Rosy’s
Fancy , the rest held a mug up and sang along on the chorus. More and more
crewmembers filtered in as the night past until they made up the majority of
the patrons.
    Someone got a knife-throwing
contest started, and they devised a drinking game off of it. Tate had already
downed two Flaming Crickets and one Painted