Read Online Gideon's Spear by Darby Karchut - Free Book Online Page B

from his sandwich. “You’re going to make yourself ill eating that fast.”
    â€œSorry,” Finn said around a mouthful of ham and cheese. He licked a dollop of mustard off his thumb. “Bad habit. If I wanted seconds at my aunt and uncle’s, I had to clean my plate first.”
    â€œBit of a race with nine cousins, eh?”
    â€œYes, sir. I usually lost, too.” He swallowed and took another bite, eyeing the last pickle on the plate between them. He ignored the carrot sticks.
    Gideon promptly snagged the pickle. Speaking around a mouthful of dill, he pointed at the carrots. “Two.”
    â€œOne.”
    â€œOne and a half.”
    â€œYou first.”
    â€œKnights are absolved from eating other vegetables.”
    â€œSays you.” Finn made a face as he selected the smallest one. Crunching it stoically, he rose, gathering the plates and glasses.
    While he stacked the dishes in the sink, Gideon stepped out of the room, then returned with his journal. He took a seat at the empty table. “Leave that for now.”
    Drying his hands on his jeans, Finn plopped down across from his master. He glanced at the Knight’s journal; guilt poked at him for trying to read it earlier.
    â€œTempted to look at it, were you?” Gideon asked, one finger tapping its worn cover.
    Finn nodded.
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œNo, sir.” He looked at Gideon, certain his master wouldn’t believe him.
    Tilting his head to one side, the Knight studied him. “No falsehood in your eyes.” Leaning back in his chair, he opened the book, pulled out the postcard-sized painting Finn had noticed earlier, and slid it across the table.
    Finn hesitated, then picked it up at Gideon’s nod. The plastic sleeve crinkled as he peered at the watercolor, its edges curling with age. Two figures sat stiffly posed for the long-dead artist. Both were dressed in workmen’s clothes from an earlier century: suspenders over simple, white shirts, rough trousers, and heavy boots. One was familiar; even with a trim beard outlining the lean face, he recognized his master. The other person sitting next to the Knight was a young teen. Something about the handsome features and the fall of black hair over blue eyes seemed familiar.
    â€œHis name was Kean.”
    â€œYour other apprentice?”
    â€œAye. And also my son.”
    Complete and utter silence fell with a thud. Finn wondered why the air seemed to have been sucked out of the kitchen. He forced himself to look at his master. Questions jostled for room in his mouth. He opened it and let the first tumble out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    Gideon reached over and retrieved the painting. Without looking at it, he slipped it back into his journal. “I do not know. Perhaps I should have done so earlier, but it never seemed the right time.”
    How about the time when I asked you whose moonstone was collecting dust on your dresser upstairs? Finn thought. Or when I asked you if you’d ever had an apprentice before ? A sense of betrayal soured his gut. Before he could ask the next question, Gideon leaned back in the chair. Keeping his eyes fixed on the wall over Finn’s head, he began.
    â€œYears upon years ago, I met and married the loveliest of maidens.” His brogue deepened as he spoke. “But fate dinna grant me the happiness of many years. Just three. She died giving birth to our son. For eighteen years, ‘twas just the two of us. Until the day he was killed on a hunt. Using the wrong weapon because he listened to the wrong person.”
    Something clicked in Finn’s head. “Was it Iona?”
    Gideon pulled himself out of his memories at the quiet voice. “It was. At least, I have my suspicions she was involved. Although she has sworn many a time that she had nothing to do with…with Kean’s death.”
    â€œDo you miss him?” Finn whispered.
    â€œAye, I do. I always will.”