Read Online Shadow of the Lords by Simon Levack - Free Book Online Page A

his brows pinched together in a frown, but then abruptly it relaxed.
    â€˜I see,’ he said heavily.
    â€˜You do?’
    â€˜No, not really. But nothing with you is ever straightforward, I’ve learned that much! Who are we really looking for, then?’
    I told him quickly.
    â€˜So your master thinks he’s looking for two men, but actually one of them never existed and the other one is really your son, and you want to convince the Otomies that these two imaginary characters went this way so that they don’t pick up Nimble’s trail and find out where he really went – have I got it?’
    â€˜More or less.’
    â€˜And then you have to lose them afterwards – before they find out you’ve been lying to them?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And the knife …’
    â€˜Nimble’s knife, yes. I have to find out why Kindly sent it to me.
    He stood up. ‘Well, you’ve excelled yourself this time! How are you going to do all this?’
    â€˜I don’t know, but I’ve got to manage it somehow. You can see how important this is. If the Otomies get to Nimble first, either they’ll kill him or they’ll make him wish he was dead already. You understand – you’ve got sons yourself.’
    â€˜Yes, and I’d like to live long enough to see them again!’
Handy looked sick. ‘On the other hand, I suppose we’re stuck with these lunatics, at least until they think they’ve found what they’re after. All right, show off your hunting skills! Just remember who’s going to get the blame when it all goes wrong!’
    I was spared having to decide whether to thank him for that or not by the sight and sound of the steward as he burst out of the rushes, panting like a man running from a pack of coyotes. A moment later his pursuers appeared: two breechcloth-clad Otomies, whooping like excited children as they closed on their prey. They would probably have thrown themselves on him if the grotesque features of their captain had not appeared behind them, his voice barking at them to come to order.
    He strode towards us, his green-clad arms and legs swinging carelessly, keeping up with his men with no apparent effort. He still carried no shield, but I noticed that he was armed now. From his right hand dangled the most evil-looking sword I had ever seen. Instead of a flat shaft edged with obsidian, this was a long round club whose blades stuck out four ways. I felt sick when I saw it. You could not cut cleanly through anything with a weapon like that: it had been made to crush bones and shred flesh, to maim, not to kill.
    As Fox and the other warriors stumbled into view behind him, he turned his eye on me.
    â€˜Well?’ he rasped.
    Â 
    â€˜A footprint.’
    â€˜I can see that.’
    I knelt in the mud with the captain standing over me. I could feel his breath on my neck.
    â€˜Barefoot,’ I said.
    â€˜I can see that too. What does it prove?’
    â€˜The two we’re after weren’t wearing sandals.’

    â€˜Most people don’t wear sandals. Not everyone who does would keep them on in this mire, either, if they didn’t want to spoil them.’ His own, along with the legs of his suit, were splattered with mud, and the ends of their long floppy straps were black from where they had been trailing in it. I assumed he did not mind as he could afford to throw them away. Successful warriors like him were richly rewarded.
    â€˜When are you going to tell me something I can’t see for myself?’ he growled.
    That was when I saw where I had been going wrong, and how I might come out of this alive, after all.
    The captain wanted me to tell him about something he could not see. What did it matter if I could not see it either? I had only to lie convincingly and I had been doing that all my life.
    I tried to remember how the more patient and long-suffering of our instructors at the House of Tears might