Free Rebel Skyforce (Mad Tinker Chronicles) by J.S. Morin Page B

countrified.
    Dan gave her a withering look. “Amateur pipers on every corner, warbling out the same tired ditty without end. Kids dressed in feathered hats, pretending to be dragons—”
    “Serpents,” Madlin corrected.
    “It’s all the same to them. None of them has seen a real dragon; no one gets to be eight years old still believing they’re real. Food’s not half bad for Khesh, but it’s all sugary and it’ll sour my stomach if I eat much more of it. I’d just rather have a bit of a good time fleecing the locals at cards.”
    “What do you need me along for, then?”
    “Tanner’s too good, and I’m sick of following him everywhere anyway. I need someone of age to get me in and swap drinks with me. I’ll order whatever you like, so long as you get me whiskey or ale—I’ll let you know which before the serving girl comes ‘round.”
    “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to hang around me?” Madlin asked. Perhaps the direct approach would get Dan to falter and reveal his intentions.
    Dan rubbed at the side of his face. “Not sure how to break this to you, but I see plenty of you these days. I’m not dog tired of you like I am with Tanner, but unless you get up and dance on the tables, I don’t expect to see anything I haven’t already outta you.”
    Madlin frowned. “I don’t dance.”
    “Doesn’t surprise me,” Dan replied.

    Rooms were impossible to find in Bouo during festivals, but certain sums of money shifted the impossible through unlikely and plausible, and into the realm of the done deal. Five rooms on an upper floor and space in the adjoining carriage house for their wagons, and Madlin’s caravan was settled at the Silverhorse Inn. They’d paid triple the usual rate and had to bribe the occupants to vacate, but with Madlin’s money and Tanner doing the talking, it had been arranged.
    Madlin threw the satchel with her personal belongings onto the bed and slammed the door shut behind her. The room was cozy for the price it had commanded, but it was all hers. It had been far too long since the last time she had accommodations all to herself in Tellurak. It had doubled their expenses to take on an additional two rooms so that no one but the guards were sharing, but it was worth every fonn.
    Cares left aside for the moment, Madlin collapsed onto the bed crossways and luxuriated in the feel of a proper mattress beneath her. The music from the Serpent’s Tribute festival wafted in through the slats in the windows, though she had chosen a room that backed onto a little-used side street that was barely more than an alley. It was just as well; pure silence wouldn’t have been any greater comfort.
    Madlin’s unwinding was cut short by a quick series of raps on her door. For a moment, the thought of ignoring the summons and pretending she wasn’t there crossed her mind, but the moment passed. She stretched as she rose, and checked to see which tagalong had come first to claim her, Jamile or Dan.
    When she opened the door, she found the young warlock waiting patiently, his hands clasped behind his back.
    “What’ve you got back there?” Madlin asked.
    Dan looked puzzled for a moment, then held his hands out in front of him, palms up. “Nothing. By the winds, you’re paranoid.”
    “My father always said that was a lazy man’s word for cautious.”
    “There’s caution, then there’s worrying about what your bodyguard has behind his back,” Dan said.
    “Oh, so you’re my bodyguard now?” Madlin asked. “When did I hire you?”
    “About the time we wandered into Kheshi territory armed, and you had promised me a sizable fortune in gold that you hadn’t delivered yet.”
    “Does that mean I can leave my pistol behind? You’ll be there to defend my life and honor?”
    “Do what you want with your honor, but I’m seeing you alive to Tinker’s Island if I have to burn Bouo to the ground to do it.”
    Madlin checked that the pistol was loose in its holster. “Guess I’ll