Read Online Ghostwalker by Erik Scott de Bie - Free Book Online Page A

seemingly lost in thought. The knights, pleased to be free of the tense situation, made their way out.
    “Oh, Arya, niece,” Greyt called.
    Arya was startled despite herself. “Yes?” she asked, turning and looking between the shoulders of her two companions.
    “The Stag, did you say?” Greyt asked. He looked like he was making notes in his head. “Excellent choice. Good food, better wine, and excellent company and service. Known all over the Marches. However, it’s not the best place for keeping your head below ground.”
    “What choice do we have?” Arya asked rhetorically.
    Greyt laughed, a musical sound. “Quite true, quite true,” he said. “In a town such as this, small as it is, the best inn is the only inn. How silly of me.” He waved them on and turned his attention back to his wine.
    Arya smiled, nodded, and turned away. Somehow, she felt uneasy telling him where they were staying. She dismissed the feeling, though, and left the room.
     

     
    As the door was closing, Greyt’s grin slipped into a considering frown.
    He saw right through Arya’s act. Though it was probably true her father was looking for her, she was hardly the directionless runaway. So Silverymoon had sent some of her own to converse with Speaker Stonar. He vaguely remembered Stonar mentioning something about missing couriers.
    What was Taern Hornblade playing at? Or Lady Alustriel herself? Had they discovered the magical barrier? Or was this a battle at home? Could Stonar be raising support against the Lord Singer? Greyt didn’t know the nature of Arya’s visit, but he intended to find out.
    Hers was a tantalizing situation, and one that could be used to his advantage, if he could only decide how….
    “Unwise…” a voice whispered in his ear, but Greyt dismissed it with a tsking sound.
    He beckoned to Claudir with a surreptitious wave.
    A pair of invisible eyes watched impartially.
     

     
    “You know your way out, I imagine,” Claudir said in his stuffy voice. Arya nodded. The steward cleared his throat and went back into the sitting room, shutting the doors behind him.
    The knights were silent for a moment.
    “You almost gave it away,” Derst said. “He may suspect our true intentions.”
    “Hmm?” Arya wasn’t paying attention.
    “You didn’t tell him about the missing couriers,” Bars observed. “Stonar never would have gone to Alustriel for help if Silverymoon had still been able to contact—”
    Arya perked up. “What?” she asked, feigning distraction. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Bars took the hint.
    Derst didn’t.
    “You remember, the couriers?” he prompted. “The real reason we’re here?”
    Arya slapped Derst lightly on the side of the head. “The real reason is to hide from father,” she hissed. “There just happen to be two real reasons. Who told you about the couriers?”
    “The same person who told you,” Derst replied indignantly, though he had the sense to keep his voice low. “Alus—Ow!” He shook his foot where Bars had stomped on it.
    “Let us adjourn, and go to dinner,” Arya said, her voice at normal speaking volume. Then she added, in a terse whisper. “Where certain ears that do not need to hear certain things will not, right, Sir Goldtook?”
    Derst furrowed his brow but then shrugged. “Indeed, Lady Sir Venkyr,” he said. “I am famished myself. I heard they were cooking some excellent venison at the Stag this eve. Shall we?” He put out his arm for Arya to take.
    “Famished, eh?” Bars asked. “That’s what happens when you don’t eat for a month and become a stick.” He shoved Derst away and put out his thick arm for Arya to take.
    “Only because you ate all the month’s rations, bulbous rothe,” Derst pushed Bars aside and put his own arm back out.
    Arya threw her hands up with a sigh and stomped off toward the door by herself, leaving the two casting angry looks and flashing obscene gestures at one another. She threw open