Chapter 2

The inn was called Princess of the Millennia and boasted the blue star emblem atop its door. It cost Noah twice as many coppers as it would've in his hometown of Quickrivers to leave Shadow at the stables. At least when he stepped inside, the place was clean and warm, with a fire roaring in the central hearth and an orange tomcat sleeping on the mantel.

In one corner, a group of men played dice and enjoyed their ale. Another group seated at a long table near the hearth had just started their meal. Noah's gaze would've normally roamed longingly over the meat pies and roasted chickens, but right now he wasn't hungry. Besides, he didn't have many coins to spare.

Noah chose a stool by the bar counter, gazing absently at the myriad liquor bottles on the shelves. A young man in a blue apron interrupted his wiping of the counter to pour him a pint before he could ask.

"You're from Laethi?"

"Who knows?" Noah answered before taking a swig. He sensed his reaction was being studied.

"Do you like it? Best ale in Veicira."

Frankly, it wasn't anything special. "It's great."

The bartender smiled. "Name's Enko, if you need anything. I'm the owner's son."

"Congratulations."

Enko's smile fading somewhat, he turned away to serve other customers.

As he sipped his ale, it occurred to Noah that he hadn't felt lonely in a long time. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to be an orphan. In Quickrivers, most people assumed he was Mikael T'Sherazee's son, or his adoptive son. Noah had been living with Mikael, his wife and four kids for about eight years now. Helping out with the horses, cutting firewood, tending the gardens. Selling his soul to a demon.

~ You make it sound bad when you say it like that. ~

Noah smiled. The point being, there hadn't been time to feel lonely. Although, things were different now, back home. Out of Mikael's four kids, only the two youngest still lived there. The two others had left a few months ago, one to join an actors troupe, the other on a spying mission for their magic cult. Noah wondered how that was going, anyway.

When Noah asked for another pint, he winced at the price.

"Best ale in Fellera," Enko said.

"So, if I order a third one, it'll be the best on the continent?" Noah sent a handful of coppers clattering across the counter.

Enko ignored this, simply collecting the coins. Scratching his beard, he asked, "So, what brings you to the city?"

"Sightseeing."

Raising a brow, Enko once again left Noah alone with his drink and his thoughts.

Hearing music, Noah whirled in his seat, craning his neck to find where it came from. A slender woman in a red dress sat in the far corner, plucking the strings of her zither. Though the din of talk and laughter made it difficult to appreciate her skill, Noah listened, sipping more ale. Drowning his thoughts in it much like the musician's tune got drowned by the noise.

This time, upon finishing his drink, one of the serving maids replaced his empty mug with a fresh one. "He told me to keep them coming." She pointed to Enko, who stood chatting with the cook in the kitchen's doorway.

Noah wanted to tell the girl that he didn't have enough to pay for it, but she was already off serving someone else. Then Noah got distracted by her very short blue dress, which revealed most of her long pale legs. No mother in Quickrivers would let her daughter wear this. Not that Noah was complaining.

Drinking more of the stuff compelled him to dig up the crumpled letter from inside his coat. He'd had it for more than a week and pretty much knew it by heart, but what the hell, his eyes raked over the fine script anyway.

Dear Noah,

I'm sorry for never writing before. I kept in touch with Lucy all those years, and I know you see her from time to time at the market, which is why I hoped she could deliver this letter to you.

I don't blame you if you hate me. But you should know a life with me would not have been better than the orphanage, and certainly no better than what you have now, which is, Lucy writes to me, a life with a good family. My line of work isn't exactly something I'm proud of, and certainly no place to raise a child. I never wanted to risk bringing you into my life.

But the identity of your father is known to me, after all I did give you his last name. Many times I wanted to tell you about him, or him about you, but I could never work up the courage to come back into either of your lives. His name is Victor Starborn, he is a well-known healer with an establishment on Castle Road in Veicira. I heard rumors he was ill, and I thought you should at least be given the chance to meet him before it's too late.

All my love,

Alexa

Noah watched a tear blurring the ink and hurriedly wiped under his eye, then shoved the piece of parchment deep in his pocket. He downed the rest of his drink, only to jump as the serving maid brought him another – the place was loud with laughter and the roll of dice, and her slippered feet were quiet as a cat's paws.

"Thanks, but this is the last one, all right?"

She just smiled. So much for not spending his money.

Hand wrapped around his fresh pint, his mind conjured up the hopeful glow on Lucy's face as she'd given him the letter. Lucy was maybe the only adult from the orphanage he didn't hate. He couldn't even hate her now that he knew she'd kept his mother's identity from him. His mother had obviously asked her to keep the secret, it wasn't the old woman's fault. That afternoon at the market, Noah had told Lucy he didn't care. He wouldn't go. Her expression had gone from hopeful to disappointed.

Well, clearly he did care after all, enough that he'd strayed from his northern course, only to wind up sitting in a fancy bar like a miserable idiot. What would Mikael think? He really needed to get his shit together. Tomorrow at dawn he'd ride off, and no more stupid detours.

When the girl brought him another drink, Noah couldn't hold back a laugh. "Would you please stop? Seriously, I don't want this."

She exchanged a nervous glance with Enko, who stood nearby with the orange tomcat in his arms. There was a loud thump-and-mewl as he released the cat.

"You have to pay for that," Enko said. "And the other ones too, of course."

"I don't have enough," Noah protested.

"Oh, come on." Enko crossed his arms over his apron. "You're a Laethi merchant, aren't you? Or your dad is one? You people fill your pockets with coins selling your junk even on a bad day. I know you can pay for my ale, don't mess with me."

"I'm not a merchant."

"Then what are you?"

"A traveler," Noah said. "Castle enthusiast."

Before Enko could reply, the door opened and everyone went quiet. The girl in the red dress stopped playing her zither. Noah swiveled round in time to see four men in matching uniforms come in – three in black and blue, one in black and gold.

"My name," the one in black and gold announced, "is Kemon Clay."

Hushed whispers disturbed the silence throughout the room. The captain of Fellera's army was called Tomas Clay. This must be his son. Noah had always thought that people who named their child after a god were pretentious. For northerners, Kemon was the god of war. Kemon Clay was just some kid in a fancy uniform.

"We seek the help of Master Victor Starborn. The healing house's door has been locked for the night. Do you lot know the whereabouts of this man? The queen herself sends us."

"I'm afraid you're too late, my lord," Enko said with a casualness that irked Noah.

"Her Majesty," Kemon went on, "is willing to pay very good coin. Surely, the healer should agree to a disturbance in his evening plans."

Noah rose from his seat. "No, he means you're too late as in Victor Starborn is dead."

Kemon's gaze came to rest on Noah. "And who are you?"

His head still spinning from getting up too quickly, Noah gripped the edge of the counter, hoping the gesture appeared casual. It probably didn't.

"I'm his son, actually."

"Victor Starborn's son?" Kemon stepped further inside the room.

"That's right," said Noah.

~ What are you doing? ~

Enko had a deep frown creasing his brow. "I didn't know Starborn had a son."

Yeah, neither did he.

Enko wasn't the only one to speak his mind. People whispered, and one in particular reached Noah's ears. "I did hear the healer had a penchant for Laethi whores."

Noah's fingers itched for his throwing knives. Instead he focused on Kemon, who made a show of ignoring the whispers. "Are you a healer as well, then?"

Noah turned his attention inward. Thoughts?

~ Healing? Yes we could, but . . . ~

"That depends," Noah said. "How much is the queen willing to pay?"

"A great deal. It won't be an issue, that is, if you can live up to your father's reputation, my good sir . . ."

"Noah Starborn."

"I assure you payment's not an issue, Master Noah," Kemon finished.

A bulky man in a heavily embroidered silver coat chose this moment to stir, his face pallid. "My lord," he addressed Kemon in a breathy voice. "Is Her Majesty ill? By the gods, don't leave us in such suspense. I couldn't bear it."

"Her Majesty is well," Kemon said, eliciting many relieved sighs. "'Tis her half-brother who is very sick."

Brother, cousin, jester or cat, Noah couldn't care less. He just relished the idea of leaving Veicira with a full coin purse. To everyone else, though, this information seemed shocking.

"The bastard?" asked the big man in the silver coat. "Why would Her Majesty make such a fuss for a bastard?"

"Well he's still her brother," a serving maid argued. "What? It's true, they had the same mother."

Kemon cleared his throat. "What the queen does is her business."

"Be quiet, people!" Noah exclaimed, throwing his arm around Kemon's shoulders like they were best friends. "He's right. Her Majesty, in her great wisdom and magnificence, has infinite compassion, even for her bastard brother. Who are we to judge what Her Majesty the Queen should or should not make a fuss about?"

"I don't know about the queen," Kemon said quietly, "but you're certainly making a fuss right now."

"Hmm. D'you reckon maybe we should leave now?" Noah asked.

"May I ask if you're drunk?" Kemon replied.

"You may not."

Enko stepped forward, chin jutted towards Noah. "This man still owes me."

Noah decided this was an appropriate time to unclasp his arm from Kemon's shoulders.

"Two silvers, nothing less," Enko said. "He ordered my finest ale."

I didn't order shit!

~ Agreed, this simply won't do. ~

Sighing, Kemon Clay fetched a coin pouch from his belt. As he did this, a serving maid jumped back with a scream. "Sir, you have a . . . a . . ." She pointed frantically at Enko's arm, where a large black spider was crawling up.

Other people saw the spider and scrambled away. Enko yelped and started shaking his arm violently.

"That is nasty!" the man in silver said in his breathy voice. Noah held back a grin, though it was an exercise of tremendous self-control.

Enko finally got rid of the spider, and he tried to crush it with his boot, but the spider disappeared between two barrels of ale. It didn't matter because two more spiders now crawled up Enko's legs, making him shout, "Get them off me! Get them off! Stupid useless cat!"

The girl who'd first noticed the spider now leapt to the cat's defense. "Fluffy's supposed to catch rats, not spiders!"

Then the cook stormed out of her kitchen, butcher's knife in hand, looking fearless and ready to strike. "Where's the damn rat?"

"There's no rat!" Enko despaired as the spiders clung to him despite his best efforts. "Get them off!" The cook brandished her knife. "No, don't stab me!"

A woman at a nearby table screamed.

Noah gave Kemon a nudge. "Shall we go now?"