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

is it?” asked Wendleglass.
    “Horse piss, best I can tell.” Tipple belched. “I sampled some of Johanna’s stock during the fighting.”
    “You were supposed to be keeping redcaps off my back,” said Inga.
    “A man can do two things at once.” Tipple tugged his mug free and sniffed. Anger clouded his vision. “Hey, that’s right. Where’s the good stuff? Why are Sam and I sitting here drinking horse piss?” He took another sniff, then hurled the mug across the room. “Horse piss gone bad!”
    “Bad how?” asked Inga.
    “If there’s one thing I know, it’s alcohol. Alcohol and brawling. Right, that’s two things. The point is, this stuff is tainted somehow.”
    “Tainted with death,” muttered Blue.
    Tipple spun. “What do you know about it, redcap?”
    “Dead cow.” Blue went very still. “Dead Grayrock. Dead Heroes.”
    “You think they poisoned the ale?” asked Inga.
    “If they did, we’d be dragging corpses out of the pubs by now.” Tipple stood and brushed his hands together. “But we need to conficaste—confi—we need to take every barrel with that dead cow on it. And some samples of Nelly’s other stock. Just to be safe. Wouldn’t you agree, Wendleglass?”
    “Um, yes. I suppose that would be wise.”
    “King Wendleglass,” said Inga, “maybe you ought to ask some Heroes to travel to Grayrock to investigate this ghost.”
    “Dead and red.” Blue rocked in place. “Bled and fed.”
    “Right.” Tipple leaned over the bar. “I think we’re going to need a drink for the redcap as well.”

CHAPTER 5
    GLORY
    G rayrock was a pit. Literally.
    The unimaginatively named town was northeast of Brightlodge, on the edge of the forest past Talondell. Generations of quarry workers had dug the town deeper and deeper into the base of a mountain in order to supply much of Albion with bricks, cobblestones, and high-quality throwing stones for the short-lived sport of rockball, which had been very popular about ten years back until the high rate of concussions put an end to the first season during the Rockball Cup Finals.
    It was a town blanketed in grey dust, surrounded by grey stone. Glory was starting to forget what colour looked like.
    To the north, a tall, grey dam stopped the river from turning the town into a lake. From either end of the dam stretched a stone wall (also grey), protecting the people from the outlaws and worse living in the woods beyond. Even the people were grey. When the quarry workers returned from a hard day of cutting and shaping rock, the dust made them look like living statues.
    The only exception to the colour scheme was the statue of an oak tree in the centre of town, carved to commemorate something or someone terribly important that everyone had forgotten about years ago. It too was grey stone, but flecks of pink quartz gave it a bit of a sparkle, making it immeasurably better than the rest of this pockmark in the earth.
    Shroud and Winter had taken Grayrock in stride, but that was no surprise. Shroud preferred greys and blacks. They were part of his image as a self-proclaimed master assassin. As for Winter, she ran about barefoot and clad in furs. Her idea of fashion could only be improved by a layer of dust and dirt.
    Then there was Sterling, who had spent the entire time brushing off his brightly coloured, ribbon-slashed sleeves, his flamboyant trousers, and his gleaming boots. He was fighting a losing battle, but he hadn’t surrendered yet.
    On the bright side, blood stood out quite vividly on the grey stone road, making it easy to see the site of the most recent death.
    “It’s the fourth suicide this month.” The Mayor of Grayrock was a rectangular man who wore a faded sash with an embroidered image of an oak tree to mark his importance. “No need for Heroes to concern themselves. Some people simply can’t handle the stress and pressure of the rock business is all.”
    “The fellow our friends rescued, Sam, talked about the Ghost of Grayrock.”