Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine

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Revaramek took a few steps back as Tavaat and Beka opened the doors to the pub. Given that this was his first time being allowed indoors, he wanted to make a grand entrance. As soon as he had enough room, he bound forward, cackling in glee.

“I get to go inside!”

The dragon burst through the entryway, and Tavaat and Beka scrambled out his way. Revaramek’s cackle stopped as soon as he saw all the tables and chairs littering the floor within the building. He tried to stop himself, and skidded a few paces. His unsheathed claws gouged the smooth wooden floor before he stumbled, tripped, and flopped onto one of the tables. It shattered beneath him, blowing table legs out to his sides. Chairs toppled across the floor, upending other chairs.

With a pained grunt, Revaramek pushed himself back to his paws. He glanced at the broken remains of the table. “Mirelle will pay for that.”

“It’s her bar…” Tavaar pushed his muzzle into his hands, groaning.

Beka hopped up onto a long, polished wood counter lined with stools. “She’s gonna take that out of your pay, Tavaat.”

Revaramek shook himself. His scales clicked, and splinters fell from his underbelly. A few more prickled at him beneath his scales. “Which one of you wants to help me pull splinters from my underbelly?”

Beka raised a mug as if toasting him. “That sounds like a job for nobody!”

“Are you drinking already?” Revaramek glanced towards her, the irritants beneath his scales forgotten. “Where did you get that booze?”

“It’s ale, not booze.” Beka took a long swig, then wiped from her lips with the back of her hand. “And yes. I am.”

“I want ale.” Revaramek turned towards the long counter, and his tail caught the top of another chair and sent it tumbling through the air. It landed atop a table, knocking mugs and platters to the floor. The wooden clatter echoed through the spacious tavern. “Where’s my ale?”

“First, stop moving.” Tavaat jabbed the dragon’s haunch with a finger. “Your damn tail is gonna bring this whole place down. Lemme just…you hold…just don’t move!”

The dragon twisted his long neck to glare at the green and gray va’chaak. “I wish ale, subject. Where is ale?”

“Ale is nowhere until you give me a minute to move things out of your way.”

“Very well. You may clear a place for me.” Revaramek swished his tail against the floor, sweeping aside some of the wooden debris, and upending another chair.

“You’re not helping! Stop! Moving!”

Revaramek turned his bronze gaze to Beka. “He’s bossy. Why are you seated upon that long shelf?”

“It’s called the bar, and I’m trying to stay out of range of you and your tail.”

“I see.” Revaramek watched her a moment as she kicked her feet in the air, her green skirt swishing. He licked his muzzle, then lowered his head, wondering if he could-

“If you try and look up my skirt I’m going to kick you in the throat.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

While Tavaat pushed tables aside and stacked up chairs, Revaramek looked around the interior of the place. It was large and spacious, with dozens of tables and four times as many chairs. Semi-private booths ran along one wall. A hearth built of uneven gray stone blocks sat at the far end, dusted with soot. Nearby stringed instruments were displayed upon a semi-circular platform. More arched cross-beams supported the vaunted ceiling, carved with decorative knot work. Stairs in the corner lead to a balcony with an spiraling rail, and a few private rooms. Support beams carved with their own decorations buttressed the balcony, and brightly hued banners hung from them.

Revaramek stared at the support beams. He’d better be careful where he walked in here, it would be far too easy to bang his head on those. The thought made him ache. He lifted his head and rubbed at the base of a horn, grimacing. He could almost feel it, as though he’d dreamt the pain before.

“You alright?” Beka stared at him over her mug. “Look like you’re getting a headache or something.”

“I was.” The dragon snorted, shook his head, and set his paw down. “I was having one of those moments. Mirelle said it was drudge view, I think.”

“Déjà vu?” Beka giggled and took a sip.

“That’s the one.”

“That happen a lot?” Tavaat pushed another table away from the dragon, the legs squeaking against the floor.

“Sometimes.” Revaramek flexed his shrugs. “I dream vividly, and often I dream of the tales I’ve heard. But I think this time I just remembered banging my head on a bough.”

“Seems you can’t go anywhere without smashing something.” Tavaat dusted his hands off. “But giving you alcohol? Yeah, that can’t fail. Alright, that’s as much room as I can make. Just…stay on this side, alright?”

“Very well.” As soon as room was clear, Revaramek padded around, sniffing. Though the scents of stinking humans clung to the place, there were also other more interesting scents. Layers of wood, tobacco and herbal smoke, the aromas of roasted meats and vegetables, the smell of sweet drink, and hints of perfume.

“You look like a hound on the hunt.”

Revaramek lifted his head, flicking his ears back. “Where is my ale?”

“Over here.” Beka hopped off the counter, and went around behind it. Barrels and casks were racked along the wall. A variety of bottles lined several long shelves. Beka rattled around behind the counter, and soon produced several large bowls, pots, and pans. “Since I doubt you can drink from a mug, which of these best suits you?”

Revaramek padded over to the bar, and settled on his haunches alongside it. “The largest one.”

Beka flashed the dragon a grin, and took a pot to the nearby casks. “What kind of ale do you like, dragon? We have-”

“Strong.”

“Oooh, that’s how I like it too!” Beka positioned the pot beneath a barrel, opened the tap, and rich, golden ale poured into the vessel. The savory aroma swirled through the air almost immediately. “We have darker, but this is actually our strongest right now. It’s got a lot of fruit in the nose, a lot of sweetness, but a bit of tartness on the back end, too. Sort of like…” Beka returned to take a swig from her own mug, swished it around her mouth, and then smiled. “Candied apricots and tart berries.”

“It tastes like sugar and swamp fruit.” Tavaat snapped his teeth and hopped up on a stool near the dragon, adjusting his tail.

Beka returned to the fetch the pot full of ale when it was nearly full. She lifted it carefully, trying to avoid sloshing too much of it onto the floor. She carried it back and set it before the dragon. “Don’t listen to Tavaat. He doesn’t know anything about ale.”

“I know I don’t like that stuff.”

Beka smirked. “It’s too strong for him.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if Tavaat wasn’t right there. “He’s a booze wimp.”

“I am not.” Tavaat drummed his dull claw tips against the counter. “I’m happy to drink mead, or rum or anything else. But stuff you’re drinking just tastes-”

“Delicious?” Beka finished off her mug, and went to get more.

Revaramek sniffed at his pot of ale. It smelt sweet, a bit like the honey-iced cakes one of the maidens used to bring him. He licked away some of the cream-colored foam that clung to its surface, then lapped at the dark golden liquid. The taste was not quite as sweet as the aroma, but it again remained him of sugary sweet cakes, balanced by the tartness of nearly ripe berries. He’d never tasted ale like it, and he immediately wanted more.

“I concur with the girl.” The dragon licked froth from his nose. “This is delicious.”

“Hah!” Beka hopped back up on the counter. “Outvoted.”

“Whatever. I’m getting some mead.” Tavaat hopped off the stool and went around behind the bar.

Revaramek drank a more ale, then gazed around. “So Merille spends her days inside a giant, showy lair? The evidence of her villainy mounts…”

Beka giggled, shaking her head. “It’s hardly a lair. Isn’t that what you dragons live in?”

“Lairs are appropriate for dragons.” He gulped down a few more mouthfuls of the delicious ale. It warmed his long throat on the way down. “Because that’s always where your people are cornering us.”

“Is that where the dragonslayers cornered you, then? When they caught you?”

Revaremek’s belly twisted. A cold tine of fear pierced the dragon’s heart. Roiling anger spilled from the hole it made, like fire pouring into his blood. His claws unsheathed and he bared his fangs, spines flared. He took a breath, staring at the far wall.

“I would prefer you not mention that.”

“Oh…” Beka rolled her mug back and forth between her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…well…I just didn’t think. That’s terribly inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

Revaramek snarled and shook himself, wings rustling. He lashed his tail, its webbed spines all stood on end. “That is two more apologies than Mirelle offered when she pushed me about it.” He gave the girl a glance, his anger cooling a little. “I shall accept one of them.”

“Fair enough, Dragon.” Beka bumped her mug against his scaly shoulder. A little ale sloshed out and spilled down his scales. “Oops.”

The dragon arched his neck. “It is no matter.” He curled his neck to lick at his damp scales. “It is better than that foul piss-water you made me dump on my head.”

“I was helping you!” Beka giggled, kicking her feet in the air.

Tavaat returned with his own vessel of mead, and wriggled back onto a stool. “You were on fire, after all.”

“Nearly on fire.” Revaramek splayed his ears, his tail curling. “Though I don’t suppose you have somewhere I can bathe nearby.”

“I don’t think you’d fit in Mirelle’s tub.” Beka took a drink, then set her mug down. She leaned back onto her haunches atop the bar, staring at the dragon. “Besides, you owe us a story.”

“A debauched story?” Revaramek perked his ears.

Beka giggled, then shrugged. “A regular story. At least at first.” She smiled at the dragon, tilting head. “I suppose if it leads into something bawdy I wouldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Good to know.” Revaramek lapped at his ale. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl watching him. He lifted his head and licked froth from his muzzle. “You want to pet me, don’t you.”

“W-what?” Beka sat up straighter, a forced scowl darkening her face. “No!”

“It’s alright.” Revaramek flexed his wings. “I’ve seen that look before, on some of the maidens who used to visit. Some of them seemed nervous, others looked as if they couldn’t wait for a chance to pet a dragon. You look the latter.”

Beka leaned forward and picked up her mug. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Tavaat licked droplets of mead from his own green-scaled muzzle, smirking. “She definitely wants to pet you. She was talking about when we went to find you.”

Beka shot him a glare, her braid waving. “I told you that in confidence, you slimy salamander!”

“You can pet me if you want.” Revaramek lowered his head, stretching his neck towards her.

Beka turned back to the dragon, working her mug between her hands. “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” Revaramek cocked his head. Humans never understood anything. “It is a pleasant experience. Go on.”

“If you insist.”

The dragon held his head low for Beka. She reached out, and after a moment of hesitation, put her hand upon his nose, just between his nostrils. Her touch was warm and soft, her scent heavily tinted by the ale that had sloshed over her fingers earlier. Revaramek smiled, savoring the feeling. It had been quite a while since a human had touched him gently. He nuzzled against her palm, and Beka giggled.

“Your nose is all soft! It’s like well-worked leather.”

“Yes.” Revaramek flared his nostrils, playfully snorting against her hand. “But you can’t just put your hand there. That’s not petting. You have to rub it.”

Beka giggled louder. The sound didn’t seem so grating now. “I said nothing bawdy till later.”

Revaramek nuzzled her palm a little harder, this time rumbling a purr. “So you’ll give me a bawdy rub later, will you?”

Beka gasped and glared, but it was getting harder to tell when she was blushing, thanks to the drink’s affect. “Hah hah, dragon. I meant the story.” She ran her hand up his muzzle, towards his eyes, then back down. “Which you still owe me.”

Revaramek’s rumble grew. He tilted his head, leaning into her pleasant touch. “Your touch feels nice. You may continue to pet me.”

“Many thanks, Great Overlord.” Beka rolled her eyes, but ran her hand up over the dragon’s cheek. “You’re much warmer than I expected. And the scales of your face are almost soft. You do feel stickier than I expected, though.”

Revaramek hissed. The sound startled Beka and she yanked her head back. “I’m sticky because of that damn horse trough!” He cocked his head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you. Touch my frills now.”

Beka quirked a brow, but did as he suggested. She put a hand upon the spiky frill behind his left ear, and gently stroked it. Her softness was heavenly against the sensitive membranes between the gold-tipped spines, and the dragon gave a happy moan, leaning his head into her hand.

“You’d better just be enjoying this the traditional way, Dragon.” Beka smirked as she rubbed his frill a little harder.

“It would take more than a little frill-petting to get my excited, girl.” Revaramek narrowed his eyes to pleased bronze slits. He thrummed his happiness, a sound like tumbling stones.

“Good, cause I shouldn’t like to be manipulated into doing anything perverse.”

Tavaat gestured at the dragon’s hind quarters. “Not like he could hide it if he was, shall we say, enjoying himself.”

“I am enjoying myself, just not in that manner.” Revaramek let out a happy sigh as Beka caressed his frill in a slow circle. “Consider yourself lucky, Lizard. You should feel quite inadequate were I to become excited.”

“Typical male.” Beka lifted her other hand, rubbing both his ear frills.

“Oooohhrrrrnnn…” Revaramek murmured, warm, soothing pleasure radiating from both sides of his head. “That’s niiiiice.”

Tavaat laughed, his own little red frills perked in amusement. “I think if he enjoys himself any more, he’s either going to start kicking his hind leg like a dog, or fall asleep right here against the bar.”

Beka gradually withdrew her hands, fingers trailing down the dragon’s snout. “Oh no. No sleeping until he’s told us a story.”

Revaramek licked his muzzle, tasting the lingering traces of perfume and ale atop the stale water. He scrunched his muzzle. “I shall not sleep until I have bathed. I shall have to fly back to the marsh.”

Beka drained her mug, and hopped off the counter. “That marsh water can’t be much cleaner than what you dumped on your head. How about I get you some soaps and clothes and a few buckets of hot water, and you can wash yourself properly?” She walked to a door behind the bar, pushed it open, then glanced over her shoulder. “And you can tell us the story of this…gryphon party, or whatever else you want to tell us while you wash up.”

Revaramek sneered, baring a few fangs. “Sounds like too much work.”

Beka vanished through the door, only to return a few minutes later with her arms full of stacked pots and buckets. Clothes were draped over the top of them. “Fine, how about this. I’ll bathe you, if you’re going to be that big a baby about it.”

“Oh?” A smirk spread across Revaramek’s muzzle. “Now that sounds pleasing.”

Beka shook a finger at him. “Only your top half, though. I’m not going below the equator. And only in return for a story.”

“Deal.” The dragon arched his neck, smiling. “In fact that puts me in mind of a story. Though it gets a bit…bawdy at the end.”

“We’ll save that one for later, then. I want to hear about this gryphon party.”

Tavaat rested an elbow against the bar, his muzzle against his palm. “You’d better do that out back, or Mirelle will throw a fit when she sees soapy water all over her floor.”

“That’s a good point.” Beka took her buckets and bathing supplies around the counter. “Come on, Dragon. We’ve a spring out back we pump water from, and a hearth for the patio where I can heat it up.”

“Very well.” Revaramek lapped at the last of the ale in his drinking pot, then pushed himself to his paws. He followed the girl towards the large doors leading out back, and then paused to glance back at Tavaat. “Ale lizard!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Revaramek only smiled. “Fetch your overlord more ale. I’ve a tale to spin.”