Free The Destroyer Book 3 by Michael-Scott Earle Page B

unwrapped my head and showed them my face. I had decided to let my beard and hair grow long, but it would not fool anyone who knew me. "About that food?"
    "Down the main avenue. First right. Left side. Lizard Breath Inn. What is your business here?" The first man beckoned me to follow him toward the gate and the light of the torches on the fence posts.
    "Meeting a friend. Rock business." Rock could be taken to mean either gems or salt. That was the only reason people came here: to mine or to trade.
    The men nodded and opened the gate to let me pass. For a second the two exchanged glances and I thought they would try to extort me, but the second passed and they closed the gate without another word. Only the creak of the salt-crusted hinges marked my passage.
    The road was made of dried, crusted mud, but the wood homes lining the street had stone foundations built up out of the dirt. The light from the sputtering torches lining the street reflected off the salt coating the ground and the houses, making everything sparkle.
    I heard heartbeats and gentle breathing inside of each home and I imagined that most citizens here were getting as much rest as they could before waking up early to dig in the mines. I had never worked in a mine, but had freed many people who had slaved in them under the Elvens. While all of us had suffered as slaves, those men and women had a dead look in their eyes that was unchanged by freedom. They had lost themselves somewhere in the dark depths of the earth.
    They were very effective in my army.
    I heard the voices and laughter of the Lizard Breath Inn before I saw the place. The building was two stories high, and not at all stable. The corners were made of stacked, roughly-hewn stones. One side was a little uneven and it caused the inn to lean. A salt speckled post extended from the mud on that side in some futile attempt to prop up the structure in case the wind decided to change direction.
    I pushed through a set of thin wooden doors to enter the lobby of the inn. The hinges squealed loudly, announcing my entrance and causing the conversations to halt as the patrons looked up at me. I took a few steps on a threadbare, salt-covered rug while I memorized the position of everyone in the room, their size, and if they were a threat. None were. A fat old man sitting by the door stopped me.
    "No weapons." He pointed at my spear and then thumbed toward a table where a few small picks, a bare rusty short sword, and various clubs were piled in a heap. I nodded at the man, leaned my weapon against the wood, and walked across the room to the long bar that separated what I guessed was the innkeeper and his daughter from the rest of the patrons.
    "You're new." The innkeeper may have been the son of the man by the door. He looked very similar, only thirty pounds lighter and greasier. I sat on a surprisingly sturdy stool and sighed in an attempt at weariness.
    "Been traveling for a long time. From the Green Mountains. Water?" I shrugged off my pack and set it on the ground next to me.
    "Metal?" He shot his daughter an angry glare when she tried to fill my request. His look stopped her like an arrow through a rabbit's heart.
    "What will you take?" the Elvens had traded in various forms of metal and artwork. It made sense to keep some traditions.
    "Water is free with food." He nodded at the girl and she quickly filled up the cup that had been dangling in between her fingers.
    "What are you serving? I'll need a room as well." I noticed that the conversations behind me resumed.
    "Lizard steaks with mushrooms. Also have fish stew. Rooms are an iron piece a night. Two meals are included, with water. Anything else and you have to pay extra." He peered at his daughter with an evil smirk. She hastily turned away and made busy with cleaning what looked like the only pair of glasses left in the place. I now assumed that she probably wasn't his daughter. Or he was a really sick fucker.
    "I'll take a room for three nights. The