A Feast of Dragons - By Morgan Rice Page 0,13

choice of any woman in the kingdom.”

Erec looked back at him with equal intensity.

“I must see this girl again. I don’t care who she is.”

The Duke shook his head in disapproval, and they all continued walking, turning down street after street, passing through twisting, narrow alleyways. As they went, this neighborhood of Savaria became even seedier, the streets filled with drunken types, lined with filth, chickens and wild dogs roaming about. They passed tavern after tavern, the screams of patrons carrying out into the streets. Several drunks stumbled before them, and as night began to fall, the streets began to be lit by torches.

“Make way for the Duke!” screamed his lead attendant, rushing forward and finally pushing drunks out of the way. All up and down the streets unsavory types parted ways and watched, amazed, as the Duke passed, Erec beside him.

Finally, they arrived at a small, humble inn, built of stucco, with a pitched, slate roof. It looked as if it could hold maybe fifty patrons in its tavern below, with a few rooms for guests above. The front door was crooked, one window was broken, and its entry lamp hung crookedly, its torch flickering, the wax too low. Screams of drunks spilled out the windows, as they all they stopped before the door.

How could such a fine girl work in a place like this? Erec wondered, horrified, as he heard the shouts and jeers from inside. His heart broke as he thought of it, as he thought of the indignity she must suffer in such a place. It’s not fair, he thought. He felt determined to rescue her from it.

“Why do you come to the worst possible place to choose a bride?” the Duke asked, turning to Erec.

Brandt turned to him too.

“Last chance, my friend,” Brandt said. “There is a castle full of royal women waiting for you back there.”

But Erec shook his head, determined.

“Open the door,” he commanded.

One of the Duke’s men rushed forward and yanked it open. The smell of stale ale came out in waves, making him recoil.

Inside, drunken men were hunched over the bar, seated along wooden tables, screaming too loudly, laughing, jeering and jostling each other. They were crude types, Erec could see that at once, with bellies too large, cheeks unshaven, clothes unwashed. None of them warriors.

Erec took several steps in, searching the place for her. He could not possibly imagine that a woman like her could work in such a place. He wondered if maybe they had come to the wrong dwelling.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for a woman,” Erec said to the man standing beside him, tall and wide, with a big belly, unshaven.

“Are you then?” the man yelled out, mocking. “Well, you’ve come to the wrong place! This is not a brothel. Although there is one across the street—and I hear the women there are fine and plump!”

The man started laughing, too loudly, in Erec’s face, and several of his fellows joined in.

“It is not a brothel I seek,” Erec answered, unamused, “but a single woman, one who works here.”

“You must mean then the innkeeper’s servant,” called out someone else, another large, drunk man. “She’s probably in the back somewhere, scrubbing the floors. Too bad—I wish she were up here, on my lap!”

The men all screamed out in laughter, overwhelmed with their own jokes, and Erec reddened at the thought of it. He felt ashamed for her. For her to have to serve all of these types—it was an indignity that was too much for him to contemplate.

“And you are?” came another voice.

A man stepped forward, wider than the others, with a dark beard and eyes, a deep scowl, a wide jaw, accompanied by several seedy men. He had more muscle on him than fat, and he approached Erec threateningly, clearly territorial.

“Are you trying to steal my servant girl?” he demanded. “Out with you then!”

He stepped forward and reached out to grab Erec.

But Erec, hardened by years of training, the kingdom’s greatest knight, had reflexes beyond what this man could imagine. The moment his hands touched Erec, he sprang into action, grabbing his wrist in a lock, spinning the man around with lightning speed, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and shoving him across the room.

The big man went flying like a cannonball, and he took several men out with him, all of them crashing to the floor of the small place like bowling pins.

The entire room grew silent, as every man stopped and watched.

“FIGHT! FIGHT!” the