Free Fireborn Champion by AB Bradley

repeating the Ten Wisdoms of the Sinner for strength.
    They reached a building much like the rest with a sign brandishing a twisted, three-pronged weapon.   “Ah, here we are.” Sander spun on his heel and spread his arms with a grin. “Welcome to the Dancing Harpoon, Skaard’s shittiest of taverns. Follow my lead. The people in there’re going to be far less friendly than the ones out here.”
    Iron’s heart sunk. He took a deep breath and bounded up the steps after his master. Sander reached the door and ripped it open, and they stepped inside.
    The Dancing Harpoon’s main room filled fully half the structure. At the far end, a bar lined with barrels easily large enough to fit a well-fed man formed a wall separating the main room from the rest of the inn. Thick pillars supported the roof on either side, their wood carved into intricate designs of mythical sea creatures. At one time, the carvings probably impressed the inn’s guests. Now, nicks, splinters, and carved curse words made them records of years of drunken nights. Harpoon-shaped lanterns lit the room in a warm glow, and the low, constant thrum of patrons relaxed the atmosphere.  
    Iron sniffed the air. A hint of vomit wafted from the floorboards. Lovely.
    Sander headed to a long table. At one end, six men hunched over the wood with dented cups filled with foaming liquid. They spoke in low laughs and grumbles, their drinks sloshing on hairy blond knuckles.
    Iron grabbed his master’s arm. “Not that table.”  
    “But—”
    “Please, Sander. I’ve had enough of these people. We shouldn’t be trying to make friends anyway, remember?”
    Sander smirked and headed to a smaller table tucked against the wall. The table sat just far enough between two lanterns to avoid most of their flickering light. Iron took a deep breath and pressed his hands flat against the warped wood. “I wish we could leave today. There wouldn’t be so many people on a ship, would there? Maybe once the danger—”
    “ Ethe Rabwi veranon omshawaii ,” Sander cut in.
    Iron cleared his throat and thought back to his lessons. His master loved Rabwi because only a few remote tribes skirting the Simmering Sands spoke the tongue, so using it would keep their words a mystery to any curious listeners in the North. Iron nodded and glanced around. It looked like a few of the patrons had looked their way, their beady eyes glinting in lamplight. He didn’t know if they really did look suspicious or if it was just the way people naturally appeared in the wider world.  
    “ Ethe Rabwi ,” Iron said with a nod, switching to the tongue. “How many days will we stay here until it’s safe? It smells awful inside.”
    Sander hung an arm on the back of his seat. “Eh, probably two or three. We can lay low and be fine. Skaard is a free land. Free lands aren’t exactly known for their strict law enforcement, no matter what the Council of Ice and Steel wants people to believe.”
    “But how do you know it’s safe here?” Iron’s narrowed stare cast about. “It looks opposite that.”
    “The more dangerous a place looks, the more likely the authorities don’t often frequent it. Besides, I’ve met the owner before. He’s no friend to the city watch.”
    Iron rolled his eyes as he leaned against the back of his seat. “Like you knew Thyra? What did she mean when she said there’s a reason you haven’t come around? And why is everyone so afraid of King Sol and his alps? And what was that Godfall she was talking about?”
    “It was easier to worship the Six when the priests could all…” He leaned closer to Iron. “…Do what we can. And that cursed king is no ordinary heretic. He’s something much darker, and the alp that serve him aren’t just powerful warriors. They are wicked, wicked creatures, Iron. Pray you never meet one.”
    “Have you?”
    Sander gave him a blank stare. “That’s not important.”
    “You have then, but you just don’t want to tell me. How am I