Here There Be Dragons - 5

Okay, any and all comments are appreciated!

Quick recap: The young man Chance has entered the small town and is looking for an inn; Jot the dragon, who can basically turn invisible and change size, is hiding in Chance's pack.

*Rated 12+ for some brief language.

Here There Be Dragons

The inn door swung open. No one took much notice of us (which, since I was in the pack and had turned invisible, I expected anyway). A young man, dressed in patched clothes and sporting a cloak and large pack (that was very still, mind you) generally doesn’t attract much interest. A couple of people glanced at the longsword hanging at his side, but weapons were common in this land. Anyway, to their criticizing eyes, it no doubt looked too rusted to even be drawn from its scabbard.

Besides, their attention was focused on the far more enigmatic character at the other end of the room, standing by the fire. He had a wooden goblet in one hand and a slur to his voice to indicate the state of his mind.

“…and so the prince got hisself a real wench after all!” he said, evidently finishing a story. Laughs and cheers spread through the room while Chance found a seat in a dim-lighted corner. No one noticed as he shifted his pack to the floor, handling it carefully, as if worried that it might be harmed. Thoughtful lad.

“Eh George,” called a man from the crowd, “are you sure it was the prince and not yourself who ended up with the wench?”

The drunken man snarled. “Damn ye, Ryder! Always looking for a fight, you worthless scrag!”

Ryder shrugged. “At least I don’t drink myself stupid enough to not notice when someone’s picked your pocket!”

The atmosphere of the tavern suddenly grew very heated as George fumbled blearily with his belt and roared, “The cur’s right! That scurvin' Ryder musta stole it!”

Men rose and a jolly old brawl broke out. In the noise of it all, I heard Chance give a little sigh. He no doubt thought tavern fights to be beneath his standard of nobility manners (what naivety; sweet, really). He picked up the pack from the floor, supporting it securely, and rested it on his lap. Obviously he wanted to talk with me, so I shifted to poke my muzzle up and in a slightly muffled voice said cheerfully, “Well master, what do you propose now?”

He replied without looking down at me; I could just make out his buggy eyes scanning the room as he spoke. “I’m half-tempted to leave, but I doubt there are any other inns in this town.”

“There are always the stables,” I suggested helpfully.

“I’ve half a mind to stick you in there.”

“Now, now, Chance, don’t be doing anything rash. You wouldn’t want me to slip out for a bite and cause a stir, would you?”

“Quiet. Someone’s looking at me.”

Chance glanced cursorily to his right. I hazarded a glance, raising the pack lid by just a miniscule amount to see. There was an elderly man squinting at Chance, a large mug in his hand. He shook his head and muttered to himself, “Boys talking to bags…what—hiccough!—next.”

I ducked back down and chuckled; Chance evidently heard, for he suddenly dropped the pack none-too-lightly on the floor again. I hit the ground with a thud and a muffled, “Ow!” Chance didn’t seem to notice, and instead turned his attention back to the rest of the room, which was calming down. I poked out my head, watching the hullabaloo of legs from my position under the table. The innkeeper, a fat man with a booming voice, was quickly restoring order.

“George! Quit your yelping! Your wallet wasn’t stolen, you dropped it on the floor right by your feet!”

George, who looked as if his stomach made up for his lack of brains (my mouth started watering at the sight of his paunch), discovered that this was true and tipsily calmed down.

People began to settle down, forgetting that they had been accusing each other of being the thief and returning to their usual amiable selves. The instigator, Ryder, was subtly sneaking away from the light of the fire.

“Ryder! I see you slinking off! I tell you man, if you keep it up I’ll ban ye from the inn! Bad for business, not to mention my head.” And with several mutterings and oaths, the innkeeper stomped away.

“I’ll have none of this,” Ryder announced in seemingly mock pride. “The vagrant lot of you isn’t worth my time anyway.” He strode proudly from the door amid a chorus of protests and returned insults.

A certain tranquility settled over the inn now, as people quietly discussed the scene and gave their opinions of the scruffy man Ryder. I glanced up; Chance was keeping his eyes trained on the waitress until she came over, not paying attention to anything else. His persistency was admirable, and finally paid off.

“What can I do for you?” she asked languidly, eyeing him up and down. Her expression didn’t seem too impressed from what I saw; indeed, between the patched breeches and the stained tunic, he wasn’t exactly the highest clientele she’d gotten before.

“I’d like some food,” Chance replied.

“Fancy that,” the waitress retorted. “What kind?”

“Some bread, a little fruit, and a large bit of meat, please.”

“What kind?” she repeated.

“The reddest type you have.”

The waitress shrugged. “That’ll be seven coppers.”

“Seven?” Chance cried.

She fixed him with a stare. “Yes, seven. Red meat is worth a lot around here.”

Chance waved a weary hand. “Fine, fine, here.” He reached into his pack, muttered something that sounded rather like, “Bloody dragons,” and withdrew seven small copper coins. I let his hand go this time without a bite, though I admit the temptation was very strong. But since the waitress would most likely have noticed a bleeding stump where previously a pinky had been, I withheld from any retaliation. Chance’s hand smoothly retrieved the money, and the waitress snapped the coins from his unscarred palm before tripping daintily off.

“A fine cost you are,” Chance hissed as he bent by the floor, pretending to fiddle with something in his pack.

“You’re the one who employed my services,” I reminded him in a cheery voice.

“I almost wish I hadn’t.”

“Too late. I’m sticking with you ‘til our deed is done, unless you’d like to give me the steel and free me of my promise now.”

Chance sighed heavily. “I hope the journey will not be long.”

“Where’s that meat? I’m starved.”

“It’s coming.” Chance cast a wary glance at a nearby couple sitting at a neighboring table who were being a bit too conspicuous about not listening. “Keep quiet now, and no more talking.”

“I’m not the one who started this conversation.”

“Shh!”

The pack shuffled disconsolately before settling down with a strange thump, while Chance looked blithely around at the rest of the crowded room.

The food came in the hands of the waitress, who plunked the plate down without much ceremony. Chance ate the bread and fruit, glanced casually around, and when satisfied that he was unobserved, slipped the meat into his pack. My muffled cry of delight was instantly cut short by Chance hissing, “Stow it!”

A couple of men who were discussing business in an undertone glanced his way; he flashed them an overly-cheerful smile, hefted up his pack, and disappeared into the crowded place to find a room.

*****

Chance set the pack down on the floor, gently. “You can come out now. I’ve closed and locked everything.”

“Windows, too?”

“Yes. What do you think I meant by ‘everything’?”

“Just checking. You seem like the forgetful type.” I poked my head out and regarded him blandly.

“How so?” Chance asked indignantly, settling onto the bed and pulling off his worn boots.

“You just do.”

I crawled out of the pack and stretched luxuriously, sticking out my forked tongue to catch the odors and chemistry of the place. Cozy place; one bed, one table, two chairs, and a small block of wood that I took for a dresser of sorts. Smelled like sawdust, which was preferable to the hint of rat dung I could just detect.

The boy grunted and examined his footwear’s soles. “I’ll need to get some new boots as well.”

“You’re going to need a complete new wardrobe.” I leapt lightly onto the bed beside Chance and started scratching the sheets.

“Stop that,” Chance snapped.

“Make me.” I raised my upper lip to reveal glinting spikes of teeth. “This is good for my claws.”

“How?”

I didn’t bother answering; with a disdainful flick of the tail, I jumped down. “Shabby place,” I commented. “I’ve seen troll caves that are nicer.”

“You can sleep in the stable if you don’t like it,” Chance said, unbuckling his belt.

I snorted, making a little plume of smoke. “You wouldn’t let me out of your sight for a moment. Now, where’s my bed?”

Chance set one of the two pillows from the bed onto the floor. “Satisfied?”

“Not really, but I’ll make do.”

“Just don’t ruin it.”

No answer for him; I was already curled up, tucking my wings neatly by my side and wrapping my tail around the pillow. Much as I didn’t like to admit it, the pillow was more comfortable than my own cave floor.

Chance yawned; it had been a long, tiring day, poor boy. He sank down onto the bed and I watched as he let the welcoming warmth of slumber enclose…

Suddenly, my pillow on the floor seemed like second digs. I leapt up onto the bed and gently poked his stomach. He flew up, arms akimbo, and snapped at me, “What?”

I removed my claw and said, as plaintively as I could, “I’m just feeling a little cold. Would you mind if…?”

Chance groaned. “Whatever!”

“Many thanks, sir. I greatly appreciate it.” I slid under the covers beside Chance, instantly loving the warmth. “You won’t notice me, not at all; just make sure you don’t roll over here; I’m not going to hold account for my spikes. And if I hit you with a wing, it’s just because I was dreaming of flying and hunting—”

“Silent! Now!”

I decided to let him alone this time, as sleep deprivation could be explained for short tempers, and very soon I felt Chance’s body relax as he fell asleep. I, by contrast, stayed wide awake for most of the night, partly because I was pondering over our seemingly-futile quest, and partly because I was having second thoughts about not eating the boy.