Read Online The Assassin King by Elizabeth Haydon - Free Book Online

head. “If these men are your most trusted councilors, they deserve to know,” he said, eyeing An-born, Rial, and Gwydion. “A war is brewing that has the potential to lay waste to much of the Known World. Any secrets of my past are insignificant now—it is better that all hidden things be known, so that we can hope to stave off at least part of the destruction that is to come. It is as the All-God would want it.” “As you wish,” Ashe demurred. “No man here is likely to judge you.” “The Lord Cymrian speaks the truth,” said Rial. “All of us are less than perfect in the One-God's eyes. Go on, Your Grace.”
    “In my youth, I was a slave in the gladiatorial arenas of the borough of Nikkid'sar, in the city-state of Jakar in Sorbold,” the elderly man said. “And while I am an aged man, since that time of my bondage only a few years have gone by in the sight of the world. Being bom of demon blood—a misbegotten offspring of the last known F'dor to bedevil this land—I was a brutal killer, knowing no remorse, only bloodlust.” He paused as Gwydion, Anborn, and Rial blinked in astonishment. “It was the Lady Cymrian who saved me—and you, Lord Marshal, when you rescued both of us in the process, though you undoubtedly do not recognize me.”
    “I certainly do not,” said Anborn. “And if I had had my way, the gladiator that Rhapsody pulled from the arena in Sorbold would have died by my own hand. Had she not stayed that hand, your tainted soul would be roasting in the Vault of the Underworld now, if you are that wretch, that spawn of the demon.” The Patriarch nodded, no offense visible in his expression.
    “I am the same man who, four years ago, Rhapsody took behind the Veil of Hoen, to the mystical domain of the Lord and Lady Rowan, that place on the doorstep of death, where the near-dying find healing of one kind or another, either passing through the Gate of Life to the Afterlife, or being restored to health, to return for a greater purpose in the material world.'' His gaze fell on Ashe. ”I believe you know this realm.“ The Lord Cymrian smiled slightly. ”I do."
    “So, having been healed there yourself, you know the weight of the responsibility that comes with that second chance at life. When that which was demon was removed from my blood in that drowsy place of healing between the worlds, I had little left of me; all I had known was violence and murder. So I remained there in study, allowing much of my life to pass in absorbing the healing arts and the wisdom of the Rowans. My excessive longevity—bequeathed to me by the Cymrian mother I never knew—allowed me to spend centuries on that side of the Veil without dying there. When I finally returned to this side, I was old, had lived the equivalent of six hundred years, but only a short time had passed in the eyes of the world. For this reason, no one recognized me. The name of Constantin had been associated only with the young, hale killer of the Sorbold arena. I made no attempt to shield myself, have not altered that by which I was called, but no one has made the association—not even Talquist, who owned me when I was a gladiator.” “It does not surprise me to know that Talquist engaged in the promotion and propagation of bloodsport before he ascended the throne,” said Rial. “But how has he come by so much power so quickly, without even being officially crowned?” The Patriarch looked down at the Ring of Wisdom on his hand; it was a simple ring, with a clear, smooth stone set in a plain platinum setting. Inside the stone, as though internally inscribed, were two symbols on opposite sides of the ova.l gemstone, resembling the symbols for positive and negative, the signs of balance between Life and Void, the two great constants of the universe. “Before he rigged the Weighing and stole the throne of Sorbold, Talquist was a merchant,” he said quietly. “While the royalty, the nobility, and even the military tend to view the