Dragon Prince 02 - The Star Scroll Read Free Page A

excellent policy—and doubtless the reason Audrite always looks so lovely.”
    “You might try his advice out on that new maid in the west wing,” Pol said, his eyes at their widest and most innocent. “I hear you haven’t had much luck so far.”
    Meath spluttered on a swallow of ale. “How did you know about—”
    Pol only laughed.
    Willa, Giamo’s wife, emerged from her kitchen then, wiping her hands on her apron and obviously intending to gather compliments from her exalted guest. The merchants had risen to leave, still arguing amiably over their silk. The young girl squealed, “Oh, Rialt, you’re terrible!” in response to some sally of her companion’s; the shipwrights laughed in response and raised their cups to him. All was warm good cheer—until one of the soldiers suddenly shoved his chair back and sprang to his feet, growling a difference of opinion that turned every head in the room. Meath saw the glint of steel and rose, his substantial frame instinctively placed between the soldiers and Pol. The merchants, caught between their table and the angry Gribains by the door, sent a look of frantic appeal to the Sunrunner, and he nodded reassurance.
    “Here, now,” Meath said casually. “You can settle this outside, can’t you?”
    Usually his height, his breadth of shoulder, and his rings made his point. But these were seasoned troopers, angry and resentful of any interference, even that of a faradhi. The bearded one who seemed to have started the quarrel snarled, “It’s no concern of yours, Sunrunner.”
    “Put the knife away,” Meath replied, his voice less pleasant now. The merchants were trying to slip past, silk swatches rustling in their clenched hands, and the girl had shrunk back in her chair.
    Willa marched forward, hands on hips. “How dare you threaten the peace of this inn?” she demanded. “And in the presence of—”
    Meath interrupted before she could identify Pol. “Get out of here before you make a very serious mistake, my friends.”
    The woman—their captain judging by the braid at her throat—drew her own knife. “You have a loud and offensive mouth, faradhi. And you are mistaken in using that tone to members of Prince Velden’s own guard.”
    The bearded man brought up his knife in obvious threat, sunlight through the windows striking silver off the blade, and the innkeeper’s wife shrieked a protest. The merchants tried to vanish behind a couple of chairs. And the knife sped through an abrupt silence toward Meath’s chest.
    “No!” a young voice cried. Meath rocked easily out of the knife’s path as a fountain of Sunrunner’s Fire rose from the middle of the soldiers’ table. They yelled and leaped back, and in that precious moment of their startlement Meath surged toward them. He slammed two into the wall and shoved the woman at the terrified merchants. Rialt shook off his girlfriend’s clutching hand, jumped to his feet, and launched himself at the bearded soldier. The three shipwrights, bulky muscles barely covered by thin shirts, hastily downed the last of their ale before leaping up to join the fight.
    By brawl’s end, Meath had a sore jaw and a shallow slit in his arm. Neither deterred him from overturning a table on top of the Gribain who was foolish enough not to stay where Rialt had kicked him. Two of the shipwrights were holding a second soldier so Rialt could take whatever punches he liked; Willa was engaged in tying up the unconscious woman with knotted napkins. The fourth soldier had gone headfirst into the brick hearth; the fifth sprawled on the floor, and the shipwright seated casually on the Gribain’s spine looked up with a grin at Meath.
    “Many thanks for the entertainment, my lord Sunrunner! I haven’t had so much fun since I worked over to the other port!”
    “My pleasure,” Meath answered, and looked around for Pol. The boy was administering ale to the white-faced girl. He was unhurt, and Meath felt relief shake his knees just a