Marlies ate some freshweed to mask her scent, waiting for it to take effect. Her years of being a Dragon Corps spy for Tonio and Zaarusha had taught her stealth. That beacon fire had been a clear warning. Anything could be waiting.
When the road and the inn’s grounds were clear, Marlies took Star into the stable yards, settling her into a stall, feeding and watering her and brushing her down. She scratched her mare’s nose. “Thank you, girl.” Her horse would never make it over the Western Alps, so she’d be going on foot from here. Star nuzzled her hand. Marlies gave her one last pat and, with stinging eyes, left the stables.
Ezaara was gone. As the daughter of a dragonet killer, she’d be facing scorn and prejudice. And Tomaaz and Hans would soon be in danger. She could lose everyone and still fail Zaarusha.
Zaarusha’s words sprang to mind, making her insides churn. You fled—that was an act of cowardice. She had no one but herself to blame, and who was she to complain? The queen had lost everyone she loved: her rider, Anakisha; her mated dragon, Syan; his rider, Yanir; her purple dragonet; and now, the latest blow, her son.
Marlies straightened her shoulders. She had to try, for her queen’s sake. And if she succeeded, somewhere out there, her silver-scaled Liesar was waiting. She slipped through the shadows to the back door of the inn and opened it a crack. Good, no one was around. She stepped inside. Now, to find Nick.
The kitchen door burst open, and a gangly figure bowled out, laden with platters. As the door swung shut behind him, his eyebrows shot up. “Marlies?” he whispered.
“Hello, Nick.” He was leaner, but his eyes still danced with merriment, and that ropey scar from a tharuk’s claws still twisted across his left cheek and down his neck. Twenty years ago, she’d managed to stop him bleeding out, but the result wasn’t pretty.
“Wait here a moment,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” As he opened the taproom door, the stench of rot wafted out. A guttural growl made her neck prickle.
Tharuks—here in Nick’s inn. Years ago, Nick had been a loyal dragon friend. Had he turned? Half her instincts screamed to flee, and the other half said to trust him. Paralyzed, Marlies hesitated.
The taproom door opened and Nick came back out. “Let’s get you a room before someone discovers you’re here.” He whisked her up the stairs and ushered her inside a room, closing the door behind him.
Weary, Marlies sank into a chair. “Since when do you serve them?”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Since they turned up two days ago, telling me they’d kill my family if I didn’t.”
Two days ago—when Zaarusha had come. Was he telling the truth? “How many trackers, mind-benders and grunts?”
He grinned. “Just like the old days. Always sharp, weren’t you?” His face grew serious. “Three tharuks: one tracker—a big mean-looking cur—and two dull-witted grunts. They’re rooming downstairs.” Nick leaned in. “A crow arrived yesterday and, since then, they’ve been asking around town after a tall dark-haired woman. They’ve checked every tavern in town.”
Marlies frowned. “Tharuks have trained crows to carry messages?”
“There was no message tube tied to the crow’s leg. My son, Urs, saw the tracker touching the crow’s head. He thinks tharuks can mind-meld with them.”
Strange. But then, why would Bill have been carrying a crow? And what about the bird that had swooped over her as she’d left Lush Valley? Bill’s malicious gaze still made her flesh crawl. Could it have been his bird that Urs had seen?
“I’m sorry, Marlies, but there’s worse news.” Nick shook his head. “Since the tracker melded with that bird, it has been sniffing all around the village. I think it’s got your scent.”
A chill skittered across Marlies’ shoulders. If tharuks took her, she’d never save Zaarusha’s son. She stood, pulling her rucksack back on her shoulders. “I have to leave.”
Nick put a hand on her arm. “Marlies, you look exhausted. Stay and rest. I’ll drop some woozy weed into the tharuks’ next ale.”
This was it: she either trusted Nick or she didn’t. Actually, she didn’t have much choice. She was as worn out as Hans’ holey old boots. She’d sleep with her dagger on her pillow tonight. Marlies slumped back in the chair. “And then what? I sneak out at the crack of dawn while they’re still out cold?”
“Let me think about it. I’ll meddle with their drinks, then bring you up some dinner. We can talk then.”
“Be careful, Nick. Don’t let them catch you.”
When Nick left, Marlies locked the door and checked the window. It was a bit squeaky, but, in a pinch, she could jump to the ground. Leaving her rucksack packed and her dagger unsheathed, she rested until Nick returned with a plate of dark stew and mashed potatoes.
“The two grunts are out like doused lamps, snoring in the taproom,” he said, passing her the plate. “The tracker’s big, though, so the woozy weed it took may take longer to work.”
Mouth watering, Marlies took a bite. “Oh, this is good,” she gestured at the plate. “How much woozy weed did you give the tracker?”
“A double dose, but it only drank half.”
“That might not be enough. I’ll need to leave early. What’s the fastest way over the pass?”
“The pass isn’t the fastest route. Urs and I discovered a tunnel. It’ll cut half a day off your journey and stop any crows or tharuks
