Taniel (The Taverner's Daughter I)

2: Taniel

The rough stone of the castle wall warmed my back. I was weary, having been in the line since dawn. Rising in the dark, I had left the tavern before the morning-man arrived to stoke the fires and fill the woodbins. None saw me go.

By time I had slogged my way up the steep road to the castle forecourt, most of my fellow job seekers were in place. I wished I had thought to come through the night, too, for I stood barely inside the gates. A constant stream of supply wagons kicked up dust and people jostled me as they hurried past.

It seemed forever before the hiring line moved forward. Whispers said there were but few positions available this year. Taut lips and glistening eyes revealed the ones interviewed and found wanting, their hopes of becoming one of the elite dragonriders dashed.

As the morning lengthened, others in the line gave up and left. I did not feel sorry for any of them. If they loved dragons as much as I did, they would be keen to accept any menial task.

I was willing to muck out stalls and chop mountains of meat. I'd do anything to get into the dragonhold.

Bored, I slipped into my hopeless daydream of being a dragonrider. Of course, if I asked to be tested, my plea would be met with laughter. Girls did not become dragonriders. 

Few tried placement on Dragonhold Day, preferring other methods to attract a dragonrider. I had been there, done that. 

I found out, the hard way, that a dragonrider's notice was not enough to guarantee entry, especially if your father owned a tavern.

As if my thoughts had conjured him, my unbetrothed came through the gateway with Father's ox-cart. 

I did not turn away quick enough. There was nowhere to hide from his startled stare. 

Peter narrowed his eyes. He mouthed a what are you doing at me. Fortunately, Father's team of oxen plodded on and he had no choice but to run to keep up with them.

I eyed the motionless line snaking ahead of me. The Seneschal must be recording life histories, I thought. Surely, the robed wizard and the leather-clad dragonrider at the table could tell in an instant if a person could dragonspeak.

I sighed.

It seemed unlikely that my turn would come before Peter finished his delivery of beer barrels. He would make me go home with him. I was sure of it. I did not want to leave.

The boy ahead of me shuffled forward.

I stepped a pace closer to my last chance to be near the dragons.

1 & 8 March 2017 - as if my scenes are not short enough - I have been splitting some of them to keep the time line right; a little rewording.

Final update:  11 May 2021 - synchronising Wattpad, Book Funnel and Kindle versions.

There were a lot of changes in this one - the story didn't change, just the way it was told. 

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