Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,9

sense of security first, he told himself. That was the only reason. It wasn’t because of that smile, no.

They stopped once or twice for Scott to pull out his map and squint at it before leading them forward. Loth had to admit he had his concerns when they rode down one path for an hour, before Ada pulled her horse up next to Scott’s and hissed at him under her breath. He then consulted the map, and wordlessly led them back the way they came, but Loth wasn’t too worried. As long as they had the map and Ada, they’d get where they were going, and so far it didn't seem like anyone was following them.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a low caterwauling, and at first, he glanced around to see if they’d picked up a stray cat, but no. The sound was coming from Dave. He could make out stray words as Dave... sang under his breath. If it could be called singing.

“What on earth?” he asked Ada in an undertone.

“Dave fancies himself a bard,” she sighed. “He doesn’t let the fact he can’t carry a tune in a bucket stop him.”

Loth listened closer.

“Riding through the woods with the princes, there were two of them, saving the kingdom, something something, a hero and an orc, a pretty elf and a cranky dwarf…” Dave groaned out as Ada scowled at him. He grinned cheerfully at Loth. “Startin’ the ballad. Scott says there’s gotta be ballads, and I’m the bard. I’ll be famous, I will.”

“Well, you’re certainly memorable,” Loth agreed because discretion was the better part of valour where seven feet of orc was concerned.

“And I’m certainly pretty,” Calarian agreed, tossing his shimmering mahogany hair over his shoulder.

They passed the afternoon like that, listening to Dave attempt to remember what he’d written, Scott interjecting with instructions like, “Don’t forget to mention that I’m handsome, will you?” and “Fearless. Make sure to mention fearless,” while Ada and Loth rolled their eyes.

When they stopped for a break, Grub took the chance to dismount and pull Loth’s scarf up so it covered his ears. He paused mid-movement. “Why does this scarf have pockets?” His voice was muffled.

“They’re very handy.”

Grub regarded him flatly and pulled the scarf away from his mouth. “They’re for stashing your pilfered items, aren’t they?”

“They’re for sentimental trifles, things I want to keep close.”

“Like whatever your sticky fingers have pinched most recently, you mean.” Grub pulled a silver chain with a locket out of one pocket, and a handful of foreign coins from another, holding them out in his palm like an accusation.

Loth reached out and snatched the scarf away. “Rifling through someone's pockets is just downright rude.”

“Says the pickpocket?”

Loth decided that he’d preferred Grub when he’d been hungry and silent. “Technically, I’m a scribe,” he corrected, fishing through the small pouches that ran the length of the scarf and pulling out a battered quill, waving it triumphantly. “See? Tools of my trade.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “You stole that, didn’t you?”

“You have such a suspicious mind!”

“And I’m sure you have very talented fingers.”

Loth leered. “I’ve never had any complaints. Want to find out firsthand?”

Grub flushed slightly. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Do I? Maybe my sheer attractiveness is making you reconsider your penchant for ponies, hmm?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and was rewarded with Grub blushing to the very tips of his ears and scowling. “I’m very attractive, Grub. You can say it. Go on, say it.”

Grub’s flush deepened. “Don’t try to change the subject. My point is, having a quill doesn’t make you a scribe, any more than having a map makes Scott a navigator.”

Loth frowned. “You’re very judgemental for a wanted man. By that logic, you’d probably argue that despite freeing you this isn’t a real rescue party because we don’t have…” Loth cast about desperately for an example. “A dragon.”

Dave stopped composing long enough to interrupt. “I have a dragon.”

Loth froze, then whirled on his heel. “We have a dragon?”

“A dragon?” Scott echoed, striding over. “Excellent! All quests need a dragon!”

Dave beamed. “Yeah. Had him since I was little.”

Loth was intrigued. A dragon was a rarity, and if he could get his hands on one… the possibilities were endless.

“Is he nearby?”

Dave nodded. “I’ll call him.” He let out a piercing whistle.

Loth shaded his face with one hand and tilted his head back, peering into the sky, while next to him Grub did the same. They both watched and waited,