As they entered the tavern, all the men stopped and turned, the place falling silent. Kyra felt uncomfortable as they looked her up and down, felt more conspicuous than ever. It was not every day, Kyra realized, that two women walked into a place like this alone. In fact, as she looked around at the grime and filth, she figured a woman’s foot had probably never stepped foot in here once.

Kyra looked back at their faces, and she did not like what she saw. They were the faces of drunk men, of desperate men, foreigners, most with heavy stubble, others with thick beards, few of them shaven. Some had beady eyes, many eyes were bloodshot, and most were tainted by drink. Their hair was long, unkempt, greasy, and they all had a hunger in their eyes—and not for food. It was for violence. For women.

It was exactly the sort of situation Kyra had wanted to avoid. A part of her wanted to turn and walk out, but they needed the provisions and it was too late now.

Kyra put on her toughest face and strutted through the crowd, right for the bar, keeping her eyes fixed on the barkeep and trying not to seem afraid. Dierdre followed close behind.

“Those chickens behind the bar,” Kyra said to the bartender, speaking in a loud and firm voice, “I’ll take four. I’ll also need four bags of feed, two sacks of water, and one slab of raw meat,” she added, thinking of Leo.

The bartender looked back with surprise.

“And you have money to pay for all that?” he asked, in an accent she had not heard before.

Kyra, keeping her eyes fixed on him, reached into her sack and extracted one large gold coin, which she knew would be enough to pay for all that and more. She set it down on the bar, and it rang with a distinctive clink.

The barkeep glanced warily at her and picked up the coin and examined it, holding it up to the candlelight. Kyra could feel the eyes of all the patrons on it, and she knew it was drawing even more attention than she would have liked.

“These markings,” the barkeep observed. “Are you from Volis, then?”

Kyra nodded back, her heart pounding, feeling a tension rise within her, more on guard than ever.

“And what are two girls from Volis doing all the way on the River Tanis? Alone?” came a harsh voice.

Kyra heard a commotion and turned to see a large man, taller than most of the others, with green eyes and brown hair, staring back at her as he approached. She tensed, not knowing what to expect, debating how much to tell him.

“I’m on my way to see my uncle,” she said vaguely, leaving it at that.

He narrowed his eyes.

“And where is your uncle?” he asked. “Perhaps I know him.”

“Ur,” she replied flatly.