Read Online Scourge of the Betrayer by Jeff Salyards - Free Book Online Page B

the common room again. “You people, I’m sorry you had to be woken like that. But a man can’t account for all those that sleep under his roof, can he?” No one answered. “No, no he can’t. I knew nothing about no traitors, same as you good folk. We got nothing to do with them, they got nothing to do with us. And that’s all there is. So you go on back to sleep. Few hours left in the night, and you paid for the roof, so use it.” He turned to go, but something passed across his face—so blatantly it might have been a curtain being pulled back, revealing a mind calculating all things against silver made or lost—and he no doubt considered the damage word of mouth might have on his future patrons. He stopped and added, “I got no use for breaking fast myself, least not until the sun’s in the middle of the sky. Don’t serve it neither. That is, most days. But tomorrow, I’ll rustle up something first thing, and those that partake will get it at half cost.”
    I looked down the railing, but the Hornmen had disappeared back into their rooms. Hewspear and Mulldoos walked over. Braylar turned to them, and twitch-smiled. “You see? Our timing will be perfect.”
    I had no idea what he was talking about, but clearly the other two did. Hewspear said, “The baron does seem to be ferreting out treachery in all corners.”
    Mulldoos yawned. “Who says those two were traitors? Besides the baron’s ferret boys, that is?”
    “That’s all that matters,” Braylar replied. “The baron’s predisposed to see treachery, whether traitors exist or no. Appearances, Mulldoos. That’s what we trade in.”
    Mulldoos scratched at his testicles and said, “Going back to bed. Long ride tomorrow.” Then he burped and returned to his room.
    Hewspear watched him go and turned back to Braylar. “He does have a pronounced lack of imagination. But he might also have a point, however blunted. Who’s to say the baron isn’t playing at something less obvious than traitor hunting?”
    Braylar started back towards our door. “We shall see.”
    After closing and locking the door behind us, he started undressing. I asked, “What were you discussing on the balcony? What—”
    “You’ve been in my company for less than a day. Do you really suppose that makes you a confidant? Trusted adviser?”
    Of course I didn’t. But how could I avoid asking? After I emptied my bladder and stripped down to my nightshirt, I kept thinking about the man dying on the table in the common room. So much blood. So much struggling ended so abruptly with the quick swipe of a dagger.
    As a boy at the Jackal, they generally kept me in the back, scouring spoons and plates, emptying chamber pots, so I rarely even saw the patrons, let alone any attacking each other.
    Since then, I’d seen brawls in a few taverns—though I typically tried not to frequent the places those were likely to occur, sometimes it was unavoidable. And once I saw a drunkard actually pull a knife and stab someone, but the blade was short, and he’d caused only a small wound before the innkeep clubbed him to the ground.
    But this… tonight… this was something much different, and much more disturbing.
    Braylar laid back on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
    I said, “When you woke me up, you said you knew violence was coming. And it did. What woke you? Did you hear horses outside? And why were you sure the baron’s men were intent on violence?”
    He didn’t answer right away, long enough that I sat up to see that his eyes were still very much open. His left hand drifted down to his flail, fingertips absently running up and down the handle. I was about to say his name when he responded, eyes still fixed upwards. “There are many things to be explained when the time is right. You can be sure I’ll know when that is.” He looked at me for another moment or two and then reclined again. “Turn out the lamp, Arki.”
    He closed his eyes. Mine stayed open