Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,4

him.

Still, despite Scott’s enthusiasm for talking about himself, Loth did manage to learn the names of the others. Ada was the dwarf, which he’d picked up in the cells, and Dave was the orc. The teenage elf was called Calarian. Ada had joined the quest because Scott had promised to pay her. Dave didn’t seem exactly sure of why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing. Calarian’s mum had thrown him out of home, telling him to stop sitting around playing Houses and Humans and get out and find a job.

“What happened to the collectivist part of collectivist anarchists?” Grub muttered.

“I heard that!” Calarian sneered. “I have exceptional hearing!”

“Of course you do. You have ears shaped like a bat’s,” Loth muttered.

“I quit!” Calarian said. “I’m going home!”

“You can’t leave! An elf adds class, it’ll sound good in the ballads,” Scott insisted. “The fearless leader and his brave band of merry men.” He flinched as Ada cleared her throat loudly. “Persons.”

Personally, Loth thought brave was a stretch. Merry was pushing it as well. Calarian was whining about the sun ruining his complexion, Ada looked ready to murder Scott at any given moment, (although that seemed to be the effect Scott had on people generally), and Dave vacillated between confusion as to why he was here and elation that there were two of them and he’d got it right.

And Grub? He was downright sulking.

“Listen,” Loth said, turning his head so that only Grub could hear his words, “I know you wanted to play the prince, but let me do it, alright? I’ve got the better look for it.”

Grub simmered at a low boil behind him. “You seem awfully sure I’m not the prince!” he hissed in Loth’s ear.

Loth snorted. “Of course I’m sure.” He gestured to the empty street behind them. “If you were the prince, my dear Grub, then why the hell is there nobody chasing us?”

He had the reward of Grub’s silence for the rest of the ride out of town.

Chapter Two

The rescue party had arrived shortly after dawn, which struck Loth as odd. Odd, and inconvenient, because for all the accommodations were terrible in dungeons, the breakfasts were usually decent, and now he’d missed his. “I’m hungry,” he muttered.

Grub made a noncommittal sound, probably still brooding.

Loth let him sulk, more interested in the matter at hand—that was to say, his lack of breakfast. “Tell me, Scott, where are we stopping?”

Scott startled at being addressed. “Stopping?”

They were about an hour’s ride from town now, and there was no sign of pursuit, so Loth didn’t think his request was particularly egregious.

“For a meal. My royal disposition is quite delicate. If I don’t eat soon I may faint, and that will definitely slow us down.”

“Or we could roll you into the reeds and leave you behind,” Grub muttered, and my, wasn’t he an annoying little tick of a thing? Speaking of ticks…

“Also, I believe my young saddle mate is infested with something,” Loth announced. “He’s done nothing but scratch and squirm since we started riding. Probably caught something while making time with his barnyard friends.”

“I have not! I’m just itchy from the straw!”

“Hmmm. Regardless, I think we should stop somewhere with fresh water and rinse the lad off. And maybe eat?” Loth wasn’t silly, and knew who was really in charge despite Scott’s posturing, so he addressed this last to Ada.

She gave a curt nod. “There’s food in the cart. We left it near the river.”

Scott cleared his throat. “I have decided,” he declared, “that the prince is in need of sustenance. We shall make our way to the riverside.”

There was the tiniest breath of air on the back of Loth’s neck, almost as if Grub was laughing despite himself.

“Stellar leadership,” Loth murmured, and was rewarded with another puff of air, just above the drape of his scarf. His cellmate, while completely insufferable, was at least observant.

Their pace slowed as they turned off the road towards the snaking river.

The ride to the riverbank, and to the cart concealed behind a screen of bushes, was only a few more miles. Still, Loth was glad to get out of the saddle and stretch his aching muscles. It had been too long since he’d ridden. In all senses of the word, actually, but at the moment hunger was his primary concern.

He thought back to Delacourt and pondered on the wisdom of a dawn raid as he waited to be served his breakfast. It wasn’t the way these things were done. And