Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles by Nat Russo Read Free Book Online Page B

leave or change positions. A portly barkeep, dressed in a dirty apron, pulled a tankard from a cupboard as Aelron stepped up to the bar.
    “Two crowns for the tankard and two more for what goes in it,” the barkeep said without looking up. “Two crowns a fill thereafter, any stall. Five crowns for a meal. Doesn’t include a tankard, though.”
    “Surprised all that dancing and singing is going on out there,” Aelron said. “It’s really pouring down.”
    “Canopy out there is keeping ‘em dry. No one’s going to miss the harvest festival because of some rain.”
    Aelron retrieved his coin pouch. Fifty Shandarian marks. That’s all his father had given him all those years ago.
    “Five marks for the meal,” Aelron said, getting hungrier with every coin he counted out. “And four for a full tankard.” He slid them over to the bartender.
    “You deaf?” the barkeep asked. “I said crowns . We don’t take those relics here.”
    Aelron examined the coppery coins in confusion. He had no idea what a crown was.
    “Come on,” Aelron said. “They must be worth something . The metal alone is—”
    “Isn’t worth the shite you took this morning. Turn around and leave the way you came. Come back with Pinnacle crowns. Whether they’re yours or someone else’s, I don’t give a shriller’s bunghole.”
    Why would the Pinnacle have its own currency? And why in the hells would everyone else be using it?
    Aelron’s ring—the one Master Nigel had given him—clanked against the counter as he scraped the coins back into their pouch. He’d been hoping to hang on to it longer. Maybe use it to barter for a mount. But it was the only thing of value he had. And food trumped transportation.
    Aelron slid the ring off his little finger and slapped it onto the counter.
    “What’s this worth?” Aelron asked.
    The bartender whistled. But rather than examining the ring, he stared into Aelron’s eyes, as if examining them instead.
    “Where’d you get this?” the bartender asked. “You’re no ranger. Don’t have the eyes.”
    “Gift.”
    The bartender brought the ring to within a few inches of his face and spun it around. “This is real.”
    “I know.”
    “You get it off that patrol that rode through earlier?”
    Aelron caught his breath. If there were rangers nearby, this may not end well.
    “Didn’t know there was one,” Aelron said. “Did a ranger a favor once. He gave me a ring in return.”
    A tipsy woman with long brown hair pushed Aelron aside and slammed an empty tankard on the counter, along with two silver coins. She wore a black dress that revealed more than it hid, and her acrid perfume rose above the roasting meats to stab Aelron right in the nose.
    “Crowns!” The woman said. “Now give me my crowns’ worth!”
    “Sounds like a gift you should keep, friend,” the barkeep said to Aelron, as he filled the woman’s tankard and took her crowns. He slid the ring back across the bar toward Aelron.
    “I look like the sort who wears jewelry to you?” Aelron asked. He slid the ring back to the bartender.
    The woman nudged Aelron and smiled. “You’re a handsome one. Come keep me company.” She indicated a bench near the side entrance.
    He looked her up and down, and her smile grew wider.
    “Like what you see?” she asked.
    Probably no weapons, but I can’t tell. She’s too far gone to make use of them anyway. And not enough muscle tone for a trained fighter.
    “Love every inch,” Aelron said. You win the prize tonight, madam. You picked a seat near an exit.
    As she shifted her weight, a glint of light reflected off something near her armpit. Aelron took the woman’s hand and brought it up to his lips, lifting her arm to see a metal clasp on her dress.
    Nothing dangerous.
    “Ooh, a charmer, you are,” the woman said. She stared at his lips for a moment that lingered longer than decency allowed, then walked back to her seat.
    “I’ll give you a meal and a full tankard,” the barkeep