A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (21 page)

The giggle he heard before escaped her lips once again.

“Bridgeway to the West”

—inscription on the Tearbridge

S
tew nudged Tallen’s shoulder, insisting on another apple to follow the one used to coax him across the gangplank.

“I don’t have any more.” Tallen pushed the palfrey’s nose away. “Why I kept you of all father’s horses, I’ll never understand. You know you’re a girl’s horse.”

Stew snorted.

“The stable at Lilly’s Pad has a wonderful paddock.” Sergeant Hall scratched Stew’s neck. “You’ll be able to stretch those legs there, old boy.”

“Let’s be on.” Boris swung into the seat of his black stallion, his steel-shod hooves clattering against the concrete of the pier. Boris clucked his tongue, and the horse quick stepped toward the main avenue leading to where the River Road passed through West Bridgedale.

Tallen took stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle. Stew trotted forward to catch up with the Bluecloak horses. The dwarves rode on spotted ponies. Tallen pulled back on the reins, casting his eyes over his shoulder.

“Am I to jog behind you, Milord?”

Maddi stood upon the pier with her arms folded.

“You brought no horse on board.” Tallen’s face reddened, and he extended a hand. “You don’t look like too much to add to old Stew.” He kicked his foot out of the stirrup. “Come on, before we lose them.”

Slapping her gloved hand into his, Maddi hoisted herself up. After settling in, she gave him back his stirrup and wrapped her arms around his torso. Tallen tapped Stew’s reins. The horse skittered once upon the cobblestones, but soon adjusted to the girl’s added weight.

They caught up to the others at the junction with the River Road. Around the corner of a tall manor, Tallen glimpsed the bridge that gave the town its name.

Spanning the Snowbourne Fork on three concrete and stone pylons, Aelron’s Bridge leaped into the sky in long arcs of bronze between the huge columns driven into riverbed. Several pieces sparkled reddish-brown, newly placed along the metal arches. However, most of them ran with long streaks of faded green.

His nose filled with Maddi’s jasmine scent, Tallen pointed at the yard-wide bars of bronze. “The streaks are why most people call it Tearbridge. Not that I’ve seen it before, myself. I just read about it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Tallen gave Stew free rein, and the old horse slowed for a drink at the sparkling fountain in the center of the intersection. The lowering sun bounced off the water as it sprayed into the clear pool. The rays glittered off the Tearbridge too, although Tallen had difficulty focusing on anything other than Maddi’s hands resting on his waist.

“Tallen!” Jaerd turned his horse back from the others, who continued down a side street curving off from the River Road. “Stay close!” He trotted back toward them.

Tallen frowned at his brother. “You stay close!” He spurred Stew forward. “We’re the ones riding double.”

Jaerd nodded his head. “Fair enough. I did not realize Maddi had no horse on board the
Shasta
. My mistake.” He frowned. “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

“You were.” Tallen smiled. “You just called for me, remember?”

Jaerd waved them forward, turning his own horse about. “Come on. Let’s be on to Lilly’s. I hear it’s quite the place.”

Tallen clucked his tongue to urge Stew forward, and he noticed that Sergeant Hall lingered at the edge of the square on his thick-legged horse. The soldier looked away quickly, but Tallen knew the man had been watching over him as well. Brawny sniffed in Tallen’s direction, and then loped after the sergeant.

“There you are.” Magus Britt met them where a side street left the River Road. “You do dawdle from time to time.”

Lilly’s Pad sat on an entire city block, not far from the northernmost pier along the Snowbourne. It rose three stories into the air, with several outbuildings including an elegant stable with a well-tended, ringed paddock. A large garden of both flowers and vegetables grew in a plot. Cheerful candles lit the windows, and the wide double doors stood open and inviting. The rest of their party waited for them.

Boris made a gesture toward Corporal Magrudy. “You and your squad are dismissed, Corporal. Report to the local garrison for barracks. We will pick you up when we return westward.” Boris frowned. “I hope no later than Midsummer.”

“Aye, Milord.” Magrudy saluted, fist over heart. He repeated the gesture to Sergeant Hall, before urging his horse back the way they had come. His squad followed close behind.

Maddi hopped down from behind Tallen, his heart leaping with regret as her hands slipped away. “Your bony nag is breaking my backside.”

“He’s not bony,” Tallen said in a mockingly sweet tone to Stew. He swung out of the saddle. “He’s just…seasoned.”

Maddi walked away, shaking her head. Tallen could not help but notice that her bruised backside looked no worse for wear.

The dwarves had disappeared inside at the first opportunity, but Boris and Magus Britt waited with Hall at the door. At Boris’ insistence, the sergeant barked at Brawny and pointed at the stable. The big dog trotted inside, his head and tail hanging. Jaerd passed off his reins to a stableboy, and Tallen did the same, watching the others disappear through the doorway.

“Is it the food or the hospitality that gives this place its reputation?”

“Both, as I understand.” Jaerd led him toward the door. “I’ve only passed through Bridgedale, so I’ve never been here before.” He shrugged. “But I
have
heard of it, so that must say something.”

Tallen stepped through the door, and the first thing to greet him was the scent of fresh rushes scattered about – light and sweet on the nose. Behind that hung the distant smell of roasting meat from the kitchen.

Lamb with rosemary and garlic.

Dozens of lamps and candles, resting on richly carved tables of dark, warm wood, kept the dining room comfortably lit. A few well-dressed patrons sat in hushed groups. A wide bar lined the back wall, and behind it hung the largest glass mirror Tallen had ever seen. Placed in neat rows in front of it were bottles from vintages and distillers of which Tallen had only heard lavish tales, some with labels in languages he did not recognize.

Tallen followed Maddi toward the bar, while a maid led the dwarves up the wide staircase along the back wall. He heard her mention something about hot baths.

“Why, the Earl of Mourne has returned to my humble Pad! And he has brought my favorite gentlemen with him.” The brassy voice preceded the buxom woman who entered from the swinging door behind the bar. “And some new friends, as well. And here I am unprepared and looking of the dregs.” She fussed with the mound of fire-red hair stacked upon her head.

“You are lovely as always, Mistress Lilly.” Boris offered a short bow.

“Indeed.” Sergeant Hall’s eyes passed over the woman without restraint. Lilly smiled in return. “You are as beautiful as the new spring in bloom, just as you have always been.”

Mistress Lilly giggled, an oddly girlish sound from a woman with such a strong frame. “Why, My Lord Earl. Bringing the enlisted men into a place too expensive for junior officers.” She covered her mouth in mock startlement. “Whatever would the nobility think?”

Boris chuckled. “I am the nobility, my dear.” He shrugged, still maintaining his grin. “Besides, Hall won the hunting contest. The prize was a night here. I am bound by the rules of the gamble.”

“Really? Then I am ever so glad he won.” Lilly cast her eyes up at the man who towered over her, one of the few men Tallen had met who might.

Hall grinned, his large, white teeth peeking out from behind stony lips. “It was all my luck, thanks to my good friend here.” He swung his meaty hand toward Tallen. “The chef who will become a wizard.”

“A chef?” Mistress Lilly raised one eyebrow in Tallen’s direction. “Wherever at, my dear young man?”

“You’ve likely not heard of it. It’s called the Sleeping Gryphon, way out in Dadric.”

The other eyebrow leaped onto Mistress Lilly’s forehead. “Why, the Gryphon is known from realm to realm as one of the finest establishments in the kingdom. It is certainly one of the oldest and most honored in our history.” She snapped at the bartender who stood silently behind her. “Some of the
rangeli
, the real Urian label, not the fake stuff they make down in Avaros.” She turned back to her guests. “The man may know oil and wine, but Vonstrass couldn’t distill almond to save his considerable ass.”

The bartender set out seven small glasses and poured a couple of fingers of the amber liquor into six. He gestured to Lilly. “For madame?”

“Since we have such honored guests tonight, I will join them. Go ahead, Julan.” Lilly bowed to her guests. Tallen brought a glass to his nose. The aroma met him long before it came close. The almond hint melded with an oaky scent that made his mouth water almost as much as the lamb that wafted from the kitchen.

The proprietor hoisted her glass. “To King Arathan and his worthy men!”

“King Arathan!” Jaerd and the Bluecloaks said in unison before tipping their drinks. Tallen mumbled the same, while Maddi closed her eyes, her lips moving slightly.

The
rangeli
soothed his tongue with a honey coat and coursed down the back of his throat, warming him from within as it dripped into his stomach.

“Nice,” he whispered, the bite of alcohol catching in his throat when he tried to breathe.

“Very,” Maddi said firmly and tipped her empty glass to the bartender. He poured her a second from the cobalt bottle, which she sipped more slowly than the last.

“We have but five tubs in our men’s bath,” Lilly said over her drink. “Maester Northtower paid well for first chance at them.” She nodded to Maddi. “There are open tubs in our ladies’ room, however, if you would care to join the pretty dwarf girl.”

“I think I will.” Maddi flashed her blue eyes at Tallen before disappearing up the staircase. His imagination spun with images of her slipping into a bath, and he quickly shifted his focus back to his glass.

“In the meantime, perhaps you gents might like another?” Lilly gestured to the bartender, who filled another round.

They managed another couple before the dwarves at last emerged, clean and trimmed. Either Yrik had not washed his pointy beard, or he had taken the time to oil it again before coming down. Tallen watched him more closely of late, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dwarf mage’s power. As yet, he had seen nothing.

The bath was warm and refreshing, and Tallen would have liked to linger. However, his stomach had other demands. He had craved the roasted lamb in the kitchens below the moment he caught his first whiff of it. Even after he had taken his comfortable chair in the dining room, he could not stop staring at the swinging door from whence the aroma drifted. Three waiters finally came through, each carrying an overloaded platter.

Tallen tore into the fresh, crusty bread, after dipping it in a peppered olive oil. Jaerd went straight to the roast lamb, as did Marrax Redarm. They both added a dollop of a creamy sauce that smelled of horseradish. Tallen chose the mint jelly instead, while Maddi took mostly from the heaping pile of roasted potatoes and peas. This time Tallen had no need to wrestle with his brother for the last rib. As soon as their platter started to look empty, another with a fresh rack replaced it.

“Say, youngsters,” Marrax said around a mouthful of peas. “Do you happen to know how many orcs it takes to wield an axe?”

Jaerd and Tallen looked at each other with a dubious expression. Maddi however, kept right on eating and answered, “I don’t know, how many?”

The wrinkled dwarf sergeant washed down his mouthful with a gulp from his wine. “Just one.” He began to snicker. “But he has a hard time getting his hand around the blade!” He broke into guffaws of laughter, slapping his thigh with his hand.

Maddi chuckled. “Good one.”

Dwarf humor.

From the look on Jaerd’s face, Tallen guessed it was not the first dwarven joke his brother had heard. He shook his head as he took another bite of the lamb to drown out the dwarf’s cackling.

Fresh strawberries and cream followed dinner, before a group of musicians filed into the common room and onto a small stage in the corner. Two kitchen boys came out and moved empty tables around to provide space in front. Tallen raised a fresh mug of ale to them when they began to play
Open the Door and Come on In
, a quick, fun song popular for years in the Western Realm.

A small crowd began to trickle into Lilly’s Pad, many in very fine dress and bedecked with jewels and jade encrusted gold bridges. One or two of the older patrons looked down their nose at the dwarves and soldiers. Some, however, seemed to recognize Boris. Tallen heard several whispers of “the Earl of Mourne”. At one point, once the ale had been flowing for a while, he heard someone say “the Bastard of Mourne”, followed by a conspiratorial chuckle.

What does that mean?

He did not have time to ponder it. Maddi suddenly leaned close and slipped her arm through his. One of the younger nobles had approached while Tallen listened to the crowd.