Read Online Fable: Blood of Heroes by Jim C. Hines - Free Book Online Page A

hands.”
    Tipple laughed and clapped Leech on the shoulder, then turned his attention to Sam. For the next hour, he did his best to loosen the man up. Tipple regaled him with stories of brawls that had left not a single piece of furniture intact, and of the glorious bouts at the old village bars where Tipple had first begun boxing for money. “Trouble was, it was a small village, and all too soon I ran out of people to fight. No bouts meant no money. No money meant it was time to move on. Fortunately, I ended up in Brightlodge. The Hero business isn’t much rougher than tavern brawling, and the payoff’s better. Usually.”
    He raised his mug in a toast and waited for Sam to follow suit. “Come on, Sammy my boy. Drink cleanses the soul as well as the palate.” He drank several swallows, wiped his lips, and added, “Of course, some stains are harder to get out …”
    “Thank you.” Sam gestured at the drink. “For this, and for saving me.”
    “He finally found his tongue!” Tipple wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Where are you from, and how did you end up in that den of filth?”
    “Grayrock, but I’m not going back there.” Sam took his mug in both hands and stared into it like he was trying to see the future. Or the past. He shuddered and pushed the mug away. “The smell reminds me of the boat.”
    “That’s an insult to this fine establishment. Nimble Johanna was loaded down with third-rate swill. Nelly here serves only second-rate stuff.”
    “How did they catch you, Sam?” asked Inga. “What did they want redcaps for?”
    “I don’t know about any redcaps, ma’am. Johanna kept those monsters tied up, then one day she just killed them. Cut their throats, as cold as she was butchering cattle. I didn’t ask questions. I was afraid she’d do the same to me. As for how they got their hands on me …” He flushed. “I was … chasing a lady.”
    “Ha!” Tipple pounded him on the back hard enough to make him spill most of his drink. “You’re far from the first to follow that path to ruin. Who was she? Not Nimble Johanna?”
    “No, not Johanna.” Sam’s cheeks were red, from drink or embarrassment or both. “Nobody knows who she is. They call her the Ghost of Grayrock.”
    “A ghost?” Wendleglass perked up. “I’ve learned a thing or two about ghosts, since my father’s … um … return.”
    “I don’t know about her being a ghost, but her money’s real enough,” said Sam. “She’s the one who hired Nimble Johanna. I never overheard exactly what she wanted, but Johanna was scared of her. Lots of people were. Men who crossed the ghost’s path tended to disappear.”
    “And yet you sought her out?” asked Rook.
    Sam turned a deeper shade of red. “Well, they say she’s very beautiful.”
    Inga rolled her eyes.
    “I found her at the docks,” Sam continued. “Cloaked in smoke and fog. I crept closer, but that’s when Johanna’s men spotted me.”
    “You walked right into the outlaws’ hands,” said Tipple.
    “That’s right. They said they meant to ransom me. If my parents couldn’t pay, they’d put me to work as one of their crew.”
    Tipple was only half listening. Johanna had been parked on the river with a boat full of ale and dead redcaps. She’d sent a handful of her people ahead into Brightlodge, along with three more dead or soon-to-be-dead redcaps. On a hunch, he leaned over the bar and searched the shelves. “Hey, Nelly! How about another drink of that dead-cow ale?”
    “Can’t get enough of my foaming jugs, can you?” Nelly winked and brought a new mug to the bar. “There you go, love.”
    “Dead cow?” Inga covered Tipple’s mug with one hand. Had he been in a fouler mood, that would have earned her a good uppercut right there. Inga leaned forwards. “Where did you get that keg?”
    “Came in just last week.”
    “The crates on Nimble Johanna’s ship had the same mark,” said Inga.
    “What