Free The Fork-Tongue Charmers by Paul Durham Page A

gambling.
    â€œRound six!” barked a man at the center of the crowd.
    His thick hair was the color of steel and tied into a ponytail that stretched down his back. One eyelid sagged at half mast, a hollow, empty socket peeking out from under it. He held six fingers in the air.
    â€œGet your bets in now,” he shouted. Gold grommets and silver shims began to change hands. “All right, spin the lads six times apiece!”
    Leathery hands grabbed each blindfolded fighter and began to turn them in circles.
    â€œWait!” he called out, and Rye started in alarm.
    The ringleader pinched his dead eye shut and usedthe other to examine Rye, Quinn, and Shady.
    â€œWhat’s going on around here? I’ve never seen so many children or animals in one tavern,” he grumbled. “And not one looks to be of the edible sort. Animal or child.”
    Rye took a step back.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I’m looking for a little girl.”
    â€œIs Fletcher Flood running an orphanage now?”
    â€œShe has red hair. Carries a pink rag doll wherever she goes. She’s loud—”
    â€œWait a moment. Pickle?” he asked.
    â€œNo, her name’s Lottie,” Rye began, “although I can see why someone might—”
    â€œYes, yes, Pickle. You know her?” the man asked.
    â€œEr, yes,” Rye said, shocked. “She’s my sister.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you say so? In that case, come, come.” He waved a hand. “Out of the way, you deck rats.”
    As the sailors moved aside, Rye spotted the three-year-old on the shoulders of a hulking brute at the back of the crowd, her perch giving her a bird’s-eye view of the fighting. Lottie’s face beamed when she spotted Rye, and she slapped the sailor on his bald head with Mona Monster until he lowered her to the floor.
    Lottie rushed forward and threw her arms around Rye’s waist with such force she nearly knocked her down. Rye kissed Lottie on her tuft of hair that always smelled like straw and syrup drippings, and for amoment it brought her back to the bed they shared on Mud Puddle Lane.
    Lottie pulled herself away and demanded, “Come,” tugging Rye by the sleeve to be sure there was no misunderstanding.
    She picked up a wire birdcage and hurried to the Mermaid’s Nook, placing it on the table with Abby and Bramble.
    â€œMy baby blue dragon,” Lottie announced proudly as she opened its little door and reached inside.
    Rye and Quinn exchanged curious glances.
    â€œLottie was very proud to finally learn to use her chamber pot,” Abby explained. “So for Silvermas we got her this . . . a baby blue dragon. As promised.”
    Lottie extended both hands. “Newtie!” she proclaimed.
    A rather small speckled lizard cocked its head and looked up at them. It seemed perfectly at ease in her hands.
    â€œIt’s so little,” Rye said.
    â€œAnd brown,” Quinn added.
    â€œHim’s just a baby ,” Lottie said with a roll of her eyes, as if she’d explained this a dozen times already.
    â€œYes, Riley,” Abby said, nudging her gently. “It’s just a baby.”
    â€œHe no be blue until he’s older ,” Lottie explained.
    â€œOh, of course,” Rye said.
    â€œ Much older,” Abby clarified.
    Shady licked his lips at the sight of the little creature.
    â€œNo, no, Shady,” Lottie said crossly, shaking a finger. “Mice good. Newtie—no eat him.”
    â€œWhere did you find such a handsome dragon?” Rye said, looking at their mother and playing along. She had to admit, she’d never seen a lizard quite like this one in the bogs. He seemed to glisten in the light and had folds of skin, like fins, under each of his front legs.
    â€œYour uncle came across him. He’s always had a strange fascination with exotic pets.”
    â€œI bartered for him in Throcking,” Bramble said proudly. “The