A Muddle of Magic. Alexandra Rushe

to save his sorry hide. He fed the rowan a load of codswallop about rival vintners and was granted sanctuary.” She glanced at the rowan, the corners of her golden eyes crinkling in amusement. “Beven held the throne at the time, I believe.”

      “Korr,” the rowan said, his jaw tight. “The third rowan and damn near the last. Queen Sonia demanded Roon’s return, but Korr had already given his word. The Vals were furious. Imposed an embargo on wine to Finlara that lasted half a century.”

      “Bah,” said Gertie. “Who needs wine when you can drink ale?”

      “I agree. Unfortunately, the noble families of Finlara had developed a fondness for the grape. They were outraged by the embargo, and Korr was pilloried. According to the Annals of Finlara, he took the Walk early to escape the carping.”

      Gertie’s eyes grew round. “What’s this, you read?”

      The rowan flushed. “I’m not a complete lard brain, Gertie. A wise ruler learns from the mistakes of others.” He grimaced. “ʼTwould seem I should have paid closer attention to Korr’s folly.”

      “Don’t take it to heart,” Gertie said. “No one guessed the gal would ask for sanctuary.” She slid Glory a sly glance. “Even our seer.”

      “I’m sorry,” Raine stammered. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

      “You never do,” Brefreton said. “But it happens, all the same.”

      “ʼTis done, Bree. Stop berating the child.” The rowan bowed to Raine. “Welcome to Finlara, milady. Tomorrow night, I will host a banquet where I will announce that you have been granted sanctuary. You will attend.” He turned to Gertie. “I have the sudden urge to kill something. Want to go hunting at first light?”

      Gertie’s eyes lit up. “I’d like that.”

      Morven?

      Flame crouched at the head of the ramp, wings half spread, his spiked head swaying. He placed one large, clawed foot on the narrow plank, hissing in confusion when it swayed beneath his weight.

      Gertie chuckled and gave the rowan a nudge. “Brace yourself, Gorne. You’re in for a bit of a shock.”

      “What do you—” The rowan spied Flame and faltered. “That looks like a—no, it can’t be.”

      Morven? Flame threw his head back and roared.

      The rowan’s stallion screamed and reared in alarm. The king grabbed the reins to keep the animal from bolting, and his guards scrambled to seize their frightened mounts.

      “The critter seems flustered, pet,” Gertie said. “Best see to him.”

      Raine stepped out of the crowd and waved her arms to get Flame’s attention. The dragon spied her and thundered across the narrow bridge to the quay.

      “Kron, look at ʼim go,” a dark-haired warrior said. “For all the world like a big scaly chicken headed for the hen house.”

      Flame galumphed up to Raine and butted her on the shoulder with his great head. The skinny wooden thing tried to get away, Morven. Flame did not like it.

      “The skinny wooden thing is called a gangplank.” Raine scratched the dragon behind his horns. “It’s a kind of bridge. It may be wobbly, but it’s perfectly safe.”

      Flame does not like wobbles.

      “Tro,” the rowan said, looking thunderstruck. “It’s a dragon. What am I to do with a dragon?”

      Raven coughed. “Might I suggest you invest in mutton, sir?”

      “Mutton?”

      “For the dragon. Flame is partial to sheep, though he’s none too particular about what he eats. Still, sheep are cheaper than horses.”

      “Gods above and below,” said the rowan.

      “Don’t let it pother you, Gorne,” Gertie said. “A flagon of ale will set you to rights.”

      “I gave up drinking when I married Hedda.”

      “What? Why would you do a damn fool thing like that?”

      “I had my reasons.”

      “Raven told me as much, but I didn’t believe him.”

      The rowan regarded Flame with the expression of a man who’d reached his limits. “Perhaps my decision was hasty. I think I’ll have an ale with you, after all.”

      “You’ve made the right choice.” Gertie clapped him on the shoulder. “Race you. Last one to the Citadel is a frosted gog turd.”

      Dropping to all fours, the troll bounded away.

      Chapter 7

      The North Road

      “I’ll lose that wager, I daresay,” the rowan said, watching Gertie leave, “but it won’t be the first time Gertie has bested me.”

      “Sire?” Raven pointed to the street above the dock where a throng of curious villagers had gathered. “We’re attracting attention.”

      “Small wonder, eh?” The rowan held his nervous horse in check. “Orsyl. Gerik. Clear the streets before someone gets hurt.”

      “Yes, Your Majesty.” Two warriors sprang onto their horses and trotted off to do the king’s bidding.

      “Mauric,” the rowan said when the guards had gone, “your horse turned up a few weeks ago.”

      Mauric’s face lit up. “Goblin made it home? That is good news. Not that I doubted it. He’s a canny beast.”

      “Your mother was understandably upset when your horse arrived at the gates without you. She was convinced you were dead. She tells me you parted on uneasy terms. Some business about a dancing master?”

      “The man was a fawning bootlicker, sire. I sent him on his way with my boot up his rear. What of Goblin? He is well?”

      “Aye. A bit thin in the haunches and his mane and tail were full of burrs. Otherwise, he seems no worse for wear.”

      “I’ll have Clegg make a special mash for him. A little syrup in his oats should soon fatten him up.” Mauric frowned. “Or mayhap he needs worming. Do you think I should drench him, instead?”

      “Your horse is in fine fettle. Clegg set him aright. And, though you haven’t asked, your mother and sisters are in good health, as well.”

      “What? Oh, I’m glad of it.”

      “The Queen has taken a particular liking to Luanna.”

      “Has she?” Mauric’s expression was distracted. “That’s good.”

      The rowan sighed. “You’ll find Goblin in the village stables.”

      “You brought him? That was kind of you, sir. Will you excuse me?”

      Muttering a hasty promise to return, Mauric sprinted up the quay and down the street.

      The rowan leapt lightly astride his big stallion. “I’ve provided horses for the rest of you. You’ll also find a carriage in the stable, if you prefer not to ride.”

      “That was farsighted of you,” Glory said, narrowing her glorious eyes. “How is it you knew our number?”

      “Glonoff’s missive described your company in loving detail.” The rowan grimaced. “Except for the dragon. He made no mention of the dragon.”

      “I doubt he knows about Flame.” Brefreton twitched the folds of his cloak into place. “As for the offer of a horse, I thank you, but there was no need to trouble yourself on my account.” He turned to Raven. “Can you and Mauric see to the dragon and the girl without me?”

      “Of course.”