The Shattered Path

Chapter 27 - The Sleeping Dragon

Alara had wanted her own room at the Sleeping Dragon, but Lastes wouldn't allow her out of his sight and had insisted on sleeping on her floor. His presence was comforting, because she knew wizards from Raujorn were after her. But he had begun to grate on her nerves. Since they had fled Lankhastaer, life had been so different, and she missed her mother. They had sailed on a merchant ship to Trader's Isle and she had hoped to see her mother. Theseus had immediately bought passage on another ship, which had taken them to Sylvestyr. She hadn't been allowed to see her mother, even though they could almost see her warehouse on the docks from the deck of their departing ship. She blamed the nature priest for her having to flee, though she knew it wasn't his fault. He could have allowed her time to see her mother, though.

Another thing really got under her skin. They were headed north, but the priest wouldn't tell her where. She didn't want to leave home. Certainly, the Raujies frightened her silly and she hoped to never see another one. Yet, she missed the old wizard Syrs and hoped he was alright. During the three days they had spent in Sylvestyr, she had heard many rumors concerning the magic academy in Lankhastaer, which was now across the Shimmersea. Some said it had caught fire and others said it had been blasted to rubble by wizard's lightning. All of the rumors involved something bad happening there. Theseus had pointed out that all of the rumors had centered on damage to a structure and not to people, so she shouldn't trouble herself over friends who were probably unharmed. She didn't like the nature priest, or Draechai, or whatever he was. She would worry about anyone and everyone if she so chose. He might drag her across the world, but he wouldn't tell her who she could worry over.

Alara hadn't even been allowed to enter Sylvestyr. Lastes had insisted that she remain at this rickety inn north of the city, until they managed to find a ship heading to the right place. She was sick of it and the old drunkards who came to drink away the daytime hours. She didn't like the way they looked at her or the things they said.

Alara left her shutters open day and night, but she could not rid her room of the smell of unwashed men. It was likely some old sailor had died in this room. Maybe more than one. She was probably the first person to ever bathe while staying there and it seemed the stench of the customers from the past twenty years had soaked into the floorboards. When she awoke, she immediately moved to the window for fresh air. She had grown accustomed to the smell but she knew it was still there and it bothered her just the same.

The sun was low on the morning horizon, but many travelers walked, rode horses, or drove wagons along the muddy road, which had dried considerably since the previous day. She frowned at the wagon with the cage, still where it had been on the previous night. That fool was still asleep in his cage. She had overheard the rumors about the man's wrongful arrest and how his father had been murdered by a knight who was staying at the inn, as well. Her father had told her several times that it was none of their concern and that they shouldn't draw attention to themselves by meddling in such affairs. Of course, she had agreed with him, but she had slipped out there during the night nonetheless.

Under that shaggy black hair and scruffy beard, the prisoner had seemed quite handsome at first. Then he had said women knew nothing about honor! And he had refused to run away! After she had saved half of her dinner for him, too. Well, he could rot in his filthy cage and spend all day thinking about his silly honor. He had been right about one thing: she certainly didn't understand. But that did not mean she had no honor!

After she watched the sleeping prisoner in the wagon for a moment more, she reached out and pulled her shutters closed with a bang. She forgot about him as she changed from her night shirt to her white blouse and brown skirt. She would go to town today and buy some decent clothes, if she could convince her father to let her go. She was tired of washing and wearing the same outfit since they had fled Lankhastaer.