Too Many Princes (14 page)

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Authors: Deby Fredericks

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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Hmm,

Brastigan said slowly.

I think I might know him.


The tinker?

Lottres demanded.

From where?


The Dead Donkey.

Brastigan grinned to himself as his brother groaned ominously.

Yes, he was sure of it. Wolf...no, Wulfram. They had a passing acquaintance, played dice upon occasion. Once, they had clenched hands. Brastigan lost the match.

When he had been quiet for too long, Lottres asked,

What should we do?

Brastigan shrugged, causing the mattress beneath him to crackle again.

Will he be in the common room for breakfast?


He should be.


Then I'll look for him in the morning.

He was getting too tired to think any more.


All right.

Lottres sounded faintly disappointed.


What do you want me to do, start knocking on every door in the inn?

Brastigan demanded irritably.


No, no. But...


If he is following us, we won't have to look hard to find him,

Brastigan yawned.

He won't go away, and if he wants trouble we'll deal with him in daylight. Get some sleep, Pup.

Lottres said nothing more, and his breathing soon deepened into sleep. Yet if Brastigan's body was weary, his mind was wide awake and running in fevered circles. The stranger looked a little like Wulfram, but he couldn't be sure. He remembered the man having a beard. It might be someone else.

In a way, Brastigan hoped it was. He'd seen Wulfram in a brawl. He was fairly sure he could beat the man, but he would rather not try.

 

 

 

PRECAUTIONS

 

Lottres woke with a flutter of excitement and vindication in his chest. He was right about the tinker! He had sensed something amiss the moment he laid eyes on the fellow. Now, even Brastigan agreed the tinker was suspicious. Maybe what Eben had said was true, after all. Maybe Lottres could be a wizard.

His self-satisfaction was shattered by a brisk tap on the door. Lottres sat up, rubbing his eyes. Daylight brightened the room's curtains and showed him Brastigan stretched out face down on the bed. Black hair obscured his features. As Lottres's muddled brain fumbled to think what was wrong with that, the door opened. Pikarus leaned in and murmured,

Your highness, you have overslept. If you would come downstairs, the men are ready to ride.

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