AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Perry closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling and bowed his head in the hopes Everard wouldn’t notice. In the quiet that followed, he laid a hand protectively over his flat belly. Deep down, he’d known, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to hear that his worst fear had come to pass.
2
Peregrine
1508
It was noon or close to it, judging by the length of the shadows cast by the waterfront stalls, and the port at the heart of Ljouwert was bustling. Men and women crowded the streets, some on the hunt for any of the fine spices, grains, or fabrics brought in from lands beyond the Wadden Sea; some simply out and about to enjoy their day; and some simply to gawk at the ships most recently moored, from which imported goods were being unloaded. The clatter of crates being hauled ashore and the smooth sound of rolling barrels undercut the murmur of conversation, and while Peregrine was too far back in the crowd to see any of the goods for himself, he could tell by the design of the ships what had arrived today: wine and grain from France, English woolen cloth, and sugar from Portugal. Farther ahead moored a passenger ship, and farther than that a ventjager from one of the Dutch herring busses currently at sea, the lattermost of which being his destination.
It was a pity he hadn’t left the cloister a half hour earlier—if he had, the crowd wouldn’t have been as thick, and he wouldn’t have had to duck around half as many codpieces.
Codpieces aside, Peregrine was adept at fitting into small and sometimes unusual spaces, being small and somewhat unusual himself, and as such had no problem advancing. The issue came when he arrived outside the passenger ship and found himself face to face with a dragon.
“Good day,” said the dragon in English. He blinked his purple eyes at Peregrine, then cocked his head to the side like a dog might when faced with something it couldn’t quite comprehend. The dragon’s hair, which he wore loose and to his shoulders, flopped over his brow and partially obscured one of his eyes. “And who might you be?”
“I am Peregrine, my lord,” Peregrine told him. How lucky he was that he’d been educated in languages. The dragon had no doubt noticed the emblem on his tattered tunic and pieced together that he was of the Pedigree, and it would not have done to ignore him.
“Have you seen my brother?” the dragon asked.
Peregrine had not. It was uncommon enough to see one dragon, let alone two.
“He’s quite a bit bigger than me, and taller than me as well,” the dragon went on, as if the description would jog Peregrine’s memory. “Not one for words, really, or art, or… well… anything, but he is quite strong, so if there were any altercations in the last few minutes, he may have gone to stick his nose in them. Have you seen any?”
“No, my lord.”
“Mm.” The dragon stuffed his hands into the pockets of his gown, which was made of a fanciful purple silk brocade with golden thread. Beneath he wore a plain doublet and hose of exceptional quality. “I see. Well, this adventure has gotten off to a great start. We weren’t supposed to be separated. If you see him, will you tell him his brother Alistair has forged on ahead and is waiting at the inn?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good boy.” The dragon—Alistair—patted him on the shoulder, causing Peregrine to go very still. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my lord.”
When Alistair said nothing more, Peregrine bowed his head and took a small step back with the intention of continuing on his way. Before he could, Alistair narrowed his eyes. “Oh, and by the way—what are you doing out of your cloister?”
Peregrine froze.
“I usually wouldn’t ask, seeing as how you’re not of my clan, but I must say it is rather unusual to see one of the Pedigree out and about, especially dressed as you are.” He gestured at Peregrine’s shoddy tunic. His hose was in similarly disastrous state, although the dragon didn’t seem to focus on it. “I haven’t the foggiest idea how Sapphire cloisters are run. Is this standard wear? It’s horrendous.”
“No, my lord.”
“Are you on the run, then?”
“No, my lord.” For every answer he gave, Peregrine’s heart beat faster. He had been nothing but truthful with this English dragon, but his scrutiny had begun to make him feel guilty all the same. “I would never run.”
“One should hope not. Terrible things happen to omegas who do.”
Peregrine was well aware.
“In any case,” Alistair continued. “Pray tell, what are you doing out here?”
Peregrine gestured at the ventjager. “I was sent to fetch herring for my cloister. Mistress Fokje always sends me so the others are not deprived their education.”
“I beg your pardon.” Alistair’s eyes went very wide. “Mistress who?”
“Mistress Fokje. She is the one who oversees Ljouwert’s cloister.”
This gave the dragon pause. He rubbed his chin and knit his brow, then shook his head as if chasing off a fly. “Well, flavorful name aside, I suppose there is no issue. You should be on your way, and I should be on mine. That brother of mine has to be around here somewhere. Do remember to tell him where I’ll be should you meet him.”
