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Well, the people in Lodra certainly have no issues with honesty. At least none of them are trying to kill me. Not yet, anyway.
“Wait. I just want to make sure that I’m in Lodra,” I say.
“Well, of course you are.”
I really made it…
“So go on then. Where have you come from, wary traveler?”
“Traveler? Me? No way. I am a prisoner, I escaped from captivity in Yadat.”
Both the eyes of humans and naga grow wide when I mention the cursed region.
“Yadat? You escaped from King Kriseri’s clutches?”
“Only by sheer determination.”
“Tell us how you did it! No one’s ever escaped and lived to tell the tale!”
“Is it really as bad as they say it is?”
I look up from my meal. Only then do I notice that almost every patron in the tavern has gathered close, for I’ve been too busy trying to eat. At the entrance, someone is beckoning for others to come in and hear what I have to say.
That’s when I realize that I have these people in the palm of my hands.
I should play it up, one voice in my head says.
No, don’t! It’s never a good idea to lie! another says.
It’s not lying! Besides, I have every right to do what I want as a free woman.
“Life was incredibly tough under King Kriseri,” I say, drawing myself up as if rehearsing a speech. “I was beaten and assaulted against my will each and every day. It was a nightmare, and to be honest, I don’t know how I made it out alive.”
“Did you really survive it all?”
I take a swig of water. “Well, I’m here, am I not?”
The more tales I tell, the more gatherers I have listening in. It feels like a reward to have my story heard, and I am certainly starting to relish in the respect that humans have here.
I have made it this far. It’s time to start living life on my terms. An hour passes where I answer questions and share more of my ordeal in Kriseri’s palace.
But during the hubbub of it all, I notice a patron sitting by his lonesome at a table on the opposite side of the inn.
Like everyone else, he is watching me. However, on his face is not the excited look of someone who wants to hear my stories, but rather an expression as if to tell me he has his eye on me.
A chill travels down my spine, signaling the end of my rambling.
“Okay, folks, the show’s over,” I blurt, rising to my feet.
“We have a room for you to stay overnight if you’d like?” the bartender offers.
“No, thank you. I better get going!”
I make a swift exit before anything else is said. As soon as I am outside, I’m hit with a wave of regret.
Why did I blabber so much? Anyone could have been listening in!
I’m unsure of where to go from here, but a split second later, that becomes the least of my worries.
