Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,11

and a sigh, and went completely stiff. It was very convincing.

“’S his best one,” Dave said proudly. He reached down and tickled Pie’s belly, which resulted in a squirming, chirruping dragon. It was bizarrely endearing, watching the massive orc grin around his tusks at his pet.

Calarian wandered over, holding out a finger, and Pie lighted onto it before flying in slow circles around his head and landing again. “A real dragon,” he said, awestruck. “Wait til I tell my friends!” He chucked a finger under Pie’s chin. “You’re going to feature in my next campaign. I’ll change it up. We’ll make a new game. We’ll call it... Houses and Dragons!” He frowned. “No, wait. That doesn’t sound right. Anyway, I’ll think of something.”

“He’s very, um... impressive,” Scott offered, edging closer again as if unsure of his welcome. “And I wasn’t being, you know,” he said to Ada. “I have friends who are dwarves.”

“Doubtful,” she sniffed, but she seemed less likely to take her axe to Scott’s throat, at least for now, and the palpable tension in the air eased.

“Doubtful he’d have friends at all,” Grub muttered under his breath.

Loth elbowed him in the side. “Why Grub, that was positively cruel! I’m very impressed,” he added quietly and was rewarded with another one of those actual smiles. (Not that a smile from Grub was a reward, he reminded himself. That would imply that he cared, and he absolutely didn’t. Loth hadn’t cared for anyone or anything in years, and he didn’t miss it at all.)

Pie chittered and chirped at Dave, who tilted his head as though he understood, and dumped the dragon back into the pocket of Loth’s scarf. “’E wants to ride with you,” he said.

Loth let Pie settle in, not inclined to argue with the orc. Besides, he thought as Pie purred from the warm confines of his scarf; they did say dragons were lucky.

Delacourt was at the arse-end of the kingdom. The residents there had been perversely proud of the fact. Loth had been in worse towns, but never more remote ones. If the Kingdom of Aguillon was roughly the shape of a potato scallop, then Delacourt was on the tip of a very unnecessary appendage at the top end of it. Loth had an idea that those were called peninsulas on maps, not appendages, but he’d leave that to the cartographers.

Loth was from Callier. He’d had to leave quickly through no fault of his own. A total misunderstanding involving a game of cards, a double or nothing bet, and an extra ace that had somehow appeared in the pack—and he’d jumped on the first ship leaving the harbour. A week later, his stomach still queasy, he’d staggered off the gangplank in Delacourt. He’d always figured that when it was time to return, he’d be going by ship again, not by road. Because Loth was no fan of the sea, but he was also no fan of saddle sores, the cold, hunger pangs, and The Wilds.

They’d crossed into The Wilds that afternoon. Loth couldn’t even say that he was aware of when it had happened—there were no signs proclaiming it—but turned out that entering The Wilds was like entering a cold lake. One step, and then another step, until suddenly you were in completely over your head.

The Wilds was... desolate. The trees were sparse and scrubby, and those that grew had been twisted into oddly terrifying shapes by the wind. There was a strange smell in their air: muddy, a little salty, as though even the living trees themselves were half-rotted. There was an oppressive stillness in the air, and Loth hadn’t seen any wildlife in at least a few hours, not even a rabbit, although something howled in the distance. Even Ada looked concerned.

“Scott,” Loth asked as they prepared camp for the night, “are you certain the map said to go through The Wilds? Because I’m pretty sure that’s the Swamp of Death I can smell from here.”

“Oh, yes, my Graceling,” Scott said, trying to make a fire with a stack of damp wood. “Ser Factor was adamant nobody would follow us this close to the Swamp of Death. As long as we stick to the road, we’ll be fine.”

“Huh.” Loth put his hands on his hips and squinted behind him in the gathering gloom. “And where’s the road, Scott?”

Scott hurried to stand beside him and looked behind them. And then in front of them. And then behind them again.

“Huh,” he echoed. He chewed his lip, and