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Authors: Alexandra Bracken
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got. One entire block was made up of pubs and taverns; we saw drunk patrons thrown out of one pub only to stumble into another right next door. There wasn’t a place of worship in sight.
“We’re going to get something to eat,” North explained, as we stood beneath a wooden sign that read THE STUBBORN DRAGON . “I’m hoping my friend is here tonight.”
“Please don’t drink,” I begged, but he didn’t hear me. Instead, he pushed a path for us through the crowd inside. Someone was banging an unidentifiable song on an out-of-tune piano. Occasionally North would recognize someone and give a curt nod or a smile. He reached back to take my hand, but instead I slipped it into the pocket of my dress.
“Waaaaayland, I thought you had abaaandoned us!” a woman purred. “Where did you find such a precious little doll? Got a sitting gig?”
“Just a friend, Anna,” North said in a smooth voice. “Speaking of friends, I heard a rumor that Master Owain has been around these parts. Has he been in tonight?”
“Why do you want to talk to him?” She pouted, sliding off our table.
North smiled. “Business. You know how it is.”
“I’d know if you told me more about—” she began, but never had a chance to finish.
“If it isn’t Wayland North, finally back to make an honest living!” came a voice behind us, a deep baritone. “That is, if you’re really here for business.”
The man was a great mass of muscles and stringy blond hair. He looked to be twice my age, with the beginnings of a beard, uneven and slightly darker than the hair on his head. A shirt of old, rusted chain mail covered his broad chest. He wore mismatched metal wrist guards that scraped along his side and snagged the frayed bottom of his wrinkled undershirt. When he grinned, his teeth gleamed in the faint light of the tavern like a wolf’s. If his eyes hadn’t betrayed how overjoyed he was to see North, I might have thought he was ready to devour us both whole.
“Honest is probably not the word I would have chosen, Owain, old friend.” North clasped the other man’s hand, and Owain pumped it up and down enthusiastically.
“Hah! So you haven’t heard yet!” Owain crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve gone straight. Only good, clean jobs for me now.”
“So, in other words,” North said, “you’re living in poverty?”
“When am I not?” Owain scoffed. “Seemed foolish of me to try to live like a knight but not work like one.”
“In that case, I’ll have to buy you dinner,” North said, motioning for him to sit down.
“Where have you been all this time?” Owain asked. “I thought about sending a few of my boys out to look for you, I was getting so worried.”
North chuckled into his mug. “Here and there and everywhere, as usual.”
“But your…” Owain made a strange gesture with his hands. “That’s all right?”
North snorted, and I knew what Owain was referring to.
“So he gets to know what’s wrong with you?” I asked bitterly.
“There is nothing to tell.” North hid his face behind his pint. “Owain, meet my lovely new assistant, Sydelle.”
“Pleasure, of course,” Owain said. He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned forward between us, so North disappeared behind his enormous frame.
“I sent that letter of application off,” he said. “But I got this short piece in reply saying the Wizard Guard isn’t in need of human services.”
“I told you that before you applied,” North said, and his voice was somehow stiff. “You’re not a wizard. If you want a position as a steward in the palace or a post along one of the roads, you’ll have to ask the most powerful wizard you know for a recommendation.”
“But, lad, that’s you.”
“And that’s terribly sad, my friend.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why is it sad?”
“What if I don’t want a do-nothing post?” Owain asked. “I don’t understand why it’s only the wizards that get to fight, even when a
“We’re going to get something to eat,” North explained, as we stood beneath a wooden sign that read THE STUBBORN DRAGON . “I’m hoping my friend is here tonight.”
“Please don’t drink,” I begged, but he didn’t hear me. Instead, he pushed a path for us through the crowd inside. Someone was banging an unidentifiable song on an out-of-tune piano. Occasionally North would recognize someone and give a curt nod or a smile. He reached back to take my hand, but instead I slipped it into the pocket of my dress.
“Waaaaayland, I thought you had abaaandoned us!” a woman purred. “Where did you find such a precious little doll? Got a sitting gig?”
“Just a friend, Anna,” North said in a smooth voice. “Speaking of friends, I heard a rumor that Master Owain has been around these parts. Has he been in tonight?”
“Why do you want to talk to him?” She pouted, sliding off our table.
North smiled. “Business. You know how it is.”
“I’d know if you told me more about—” she began, but never had a chance to finish.
“If it isn’t Wayland North, finally back to make an honest living!” came a voice behind us, a deep baritone. “That is, if you’re really here for business.”
The man was a great mass of muscles and stringy blond hair. He looked to be twice my age, with the beginnings of a beard, uneven and slightly darker than the hair on his head. A shirt of old, rusted chain mail covered his broad chest. He wore mismatched metal wrist guards that scraped along his side and snagged the frayed bottom of his wrinkled undershirt. When he grinned, his teeth gleamed in the faint light of the tavern like a wolf’s. If his eyes hadn’t betrayed how overjoyed he was to see North, I might have thought he was ready to devour us both whole.
“Honest is probably not the word I would have chosen, Owain, old friend.” North clasped the other man’s hand, and Owain pumped it up and down enthusiastically.
“Hah! So you haven’t heard yet!” Owain crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve gone straight. Only good, clean jobs for me now.”
“So, in other words,” North said, “you’re living in poverty?”
“When am I not?” Owain scoffed. “Seemed foolish of me to try to live like a knight but not work like one.”
“In that case, I’ll have to buy you dinner,” North said, motioning for him to sit down.
“Where have you been all this time?” Owain asked. “I thought about sending a few of my boys out to look for you, I was getting so worried.”
North chuckled into his mug. “Here and there and everywhere, as usual.”
“But your…” Owain made a strange gesture with his hands. “That’s all right?”
North snorted, and I knew what Owain was referring to.
“So he gets to know what’s wrong with you?” I asked bitterly.
“There is nothing to tell.” North hid his face behind his pint. “Owain, meet my lovely new assistant, Sydelle.”
“Pleasure, of course,” Owain said. He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned forward between us, so North disappeared behind his enormous frame.
“I sent that letter of application off,” he said. “But I got this short piece in reply saying the Wizard Guard isn’t in need of human services.”
“I told you that before you applied,” North said, and his voice was somehow stiff. “You’re not a wizard. If you want a position as a steward in the palace or a post along one of the roads, you’ll have to ask the most powerful wizard you know for a recommendation.”
“But, lad, that’s you.”
“And that’s terribly sad, my friend.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why is it sad?”
“What if I don’t want a do-nothing post?” Owain asked. “I don’t understand why it’s only the wizards that get to fight, even when a
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