“Left-overs from breakfast,” the serving maid explained. “Four bits.”
Hand shaking with anticipation, Dumery pushed over four of his six coins and began eating. The thought of haggling didn’t even occur to him.
The rolls were still good, only slightly stale, but the apples weren’t anywhere near ripe, the white streaks on the cheese were an unpleasant mold, and the chicken was cold and greasy.
All the same, to Dumery it was all ineffably delicious. When he was done nothing remained on the platter but chicken bones and the stems and seeds of the apples.
He sat back, hands on his stomach, enjoying the sensation of repletion.
The serving maid reappeared at his side.
“Are you a warlock?” she asked. “You look so young!”
“No, I’m not a warlock,” Dumery replied, mystified. He stared up at her for a moment, then asked, “Should I be?”
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, well, most of the people who come here who have forgotten to eat for long periods are warlocks.”
“I didn’tforget,” Dumery said, flabberghasted by the very concept of forgetting to eat, “I just didn’t have any food!” He continued to stare up at her.
She stared back. Dumery grew uncomfortable.
“Why would... I mean, do a lot of warlocks come here?” he asked. He couldn’t see any reason they would; while the inn was pleasant enough, he saw nothing magical about it.
“Sometimes,” she replied.
“Why?” Dumery asked, puzzled.
She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “They don’t talk much. They’re always headed southeast, down the main highway. Usually they fly.”
This news did not set very well with Dumery. “Southeast, down the main highway” described his own intended route. The idea of encountering several warlocks along the way wasn’t appealing. If he couldn’t be a magician himself, he preferred not to deal with them at all until he could somehow hold his own.
“Just warlocks?” he asked. “What about wizards, or sorcerers?”
“No, just warlocks,” the woman said. “I’ve never even met a sorcerer, and it’s been years since a wizard’s stopped here.” She paused, then added, “I met a demonologist once when I was a little girl, but that wasn’t anywhere near here.”
“Oh,” Dumery said. He thought for a moment.
He couldn’t think of any reason that warlocks would want to travel the area, but then, he didn’t know much about warlockry.
It didn’t really concern him, he decided.
He would want to stay out of the way of any warlocks he encountered, of course-not just now, but always. Warlocks had a nasty reputation. Being a dragon-hunter and demanding piles of gold for dragon’s blood would give him a way to get back at wizards, but warlocks used no potions or spells; even a dragon-hunter wouldn’t impress them.
But on the other hand, they would have no reason to bother him. He was harmless enough, and his business wouldn’t interfere with theirs.
And now that he thought about his business, he had another question for the serving maid.
“Um...” Dumery said, “I’m looking for an apprenticeship to a dragon-hunter. Would you know of any around here who might be interested?”
The woman blinked, and thought for a moment.
“I don’t think I do,” she said. “Of course, there aren’t very many dragons right around here; they’re mostly to the east, up in the mountains. Or north. Or south. There are certainly dragon-hunters in Aldagmor, but I don’t know where.”
“Where’s Aldagmor?” Dumery asked.
She stared. “Here, of course!”
“I thought this was Sardiron,” Dumery said, puzzled.
“It is.”
“But you said...”
“The gods help you, boy, Aldagmor ispart of Sardiron! Or at least, it’s part of the Baronies of Sardiron.”
“Oh,” said Dumery. “It’s one of the Baronies?”
“The largest of them,” the woman replied.
“How many are there?” Dumery asked. “I mean, there are three Ethshars, and everyone knows that because it’s called the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, but how many baronies are there?”
“I have no idea,” she replied. “I think it varies-barons can divide their lands up between heirs, and sometimes a marriage will merge two of them. Right now, well, there’s Sardiron of the Waters, of course, where the Council meets, and there’s Tazmor, which is east of the mountains and the richest of them all, and Srigmor, in the north, except much of it’s abandoned, and The Passes, where the highways cross the mountains into Tazmor, and then there are all the Lesser Baronies along the river, Hakhai and Tselmin and Takranna and the rest...I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Dumery said again.
“We’re in the North Riding of Aldagmor here,” she volunteered, after a moment of awkward silence. “Though I think it’s actually more to the west than to the north of the others. You crossed the boundary about a mile back, if you came up the highway from the river-didn’t you see the marker stone?”
Dumery remembered where he had slept the night before. “I didn’t read it,” he admitted.
This was all very interesting, he thought, but they were getting further and further from what he really wanted to know.
“So you don’t know where I can find a dragon-hunter who needs an apprentice?”
he asked.
“No,” she said, “I’m afraid not.”
Dumery sighed, then asked his next question. “Do you know a man named Kensher Kinner’s son?”
She stared at him. “Why, yes,” she said. “He stayed here last night.”
“Hedid?” Dumery yelped.
“Yes, he did,” she confirmed. “He comes by about four times a year, and he has for as long as I can remember. Everyone along the road knows him; he always has a good word for everyone he sees. You’re not from around here, though; do you know him?”
“Sort of,” Dumery said, while cursing himself for not pressing on the night before. He had been so close!
“Well, he just left, oh, half an hour before you got here, at most. Maybe if you hurry, you can catch him on the road.”
“Maybe,” Dumery said, looking at the platter of chicken bones and wishing he’d stuffed the food in his pocket to eat on the road instead of wasting time at the inn. “I’d better get going.” He rose, put his last two bits in his purse, and headed for the door.
“Good luck!” the maid called after him as he rushed out. He didn’t take time to answer, A moment later, though, Dumery’s head re-appeared in the doorway. “Which road did he take?” he called.
The servant pointed. “That one,” she said, indicating the right fork.
That was in agreement with the gestured directions Dumery had gotten the night before. The boy nodded, turned, and ran.
Chapter Nineteen
Teneria turned and studied the bank again. “Do you think we’re getting close?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” the spriggan said. “Don’t care. Like you better.”
“To Sardiron of the Waters, or to the barge?” the boat’s owner asked.
“The barge,” Teneria replied.
“I doubt it,” the boatman said. “Those cattle barges are usually sylph-propelled; they can really move along.”
Teneria glanced at him, worried. “They can?”
“Oh, yes. I told you when I picked you up that we weren’t likely to catch him this side of Sardiron-the city, not the country, we’rein the Baronies. But it’s still a good long way to the city, and we probably won’t catch up, not unless you use magic.”
“AndI toldyou that I don’thave any magic that can move a boat any faster than you can row it or pole it.”