Read Online The Blackguard (Book 2) by Cheryl Matthynssens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cheryl Matthynssens
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moment. The only sound in the room was their breathing and the bells from the ships below the window. Finally, Sordith dropped his gaze a half measure. “I apologize, m’lord, it was not my intent to call you a coward. It is just upsetting that the man I serve, who should be treated with the respect he is due, is treated by the upper tiers as little more than a puppet master.” He took a step back from the desk.
Aorun slowly straightened up as well, still clearly angered even though he held Sordith in high regard. “You have work to do. What time will the man be here?” he growled, crossing his arms.
“In two hours,” Sordith replied coldly. “I will see to it that a couple of your men brings those gathered into the receiving room.”
“Good. I expect your numbers on my desk at the end of the day,” Aorun stated.
S ordith nodded. “Of course, my lord.” He turned to set about his duties when Aorun called to him again.
“Sordith. One last thing.” Aorun waited until Sordith stopped and turned around to look at him. “I want you at my side while the stable lord is in the hall.”
“I have no desire to be anywhere near that business.” Sordith’s voice was tense.
“Exactly! Which is why you will be. Owen is far too willing offer his services, and it is distracting.” Aorun’s tone held disgust, but it also left no room for argument.
Sordith took a deep breath. “As you command.” He bowed low, then turned on his heel and departed.
Aorun watched him go, shaking his head. He counted on Sordith’s honor and skill in areas where Aorun was less proficient. Sordith did kill, but he had this sense of warped justice that sometimes reared up the way it just had. Aorun was fairly sure Sordith had never taken a wench to his bed that hadn’t sought it first. The rogue had never even taken advantage of the stable lord’s offer to come to the third tier. Sordith lived simply, as was evident by his room; it had what the man needed, all of fine quality, but not much more.
Aorun walked alongside his walls, running his fingers along the inset stone shelves, which were full of treasures from all around the world. He liked looking at new and odd things. From strange books to beautiful pottery, his was a collection of world travels he longed to take, but on which he’d never venture. He sighed softly and wandered back to the balcony to stare out at the ships.
Sordith had called him a coward. In one way, Aorun knew he was. His fear of water would always keep his feet on this isle, locked into a position of power from which there was no escape. It had been his decision to seek the heart of the last Trench Lord, and it wasn’t a choice he regretted. But in many ways, Aorun realized he was as much a prisoner of position as a ruling lord. He sighed again and went back to his desk, opening the drawer, and removing a silver flask of smalgut, from which he took a straight shot. Grimacing at the burn, Aorun closed his eyes, letting the alcohol scald its way down and accepting its gentle release of his anxiety.
Sordith joined Aorun at the appointed time. His right hand’s face was tightly schooled to hide his displeasure, but Aorun knew that Sordith was still indignant by the stiff bearing of his posture and the way he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword. Unlike Aorun, who wore a sword on his back, Sordith favored two smaller swords at his hips. Aorun had to admit that if any man were quick enough to best him, it would be Sordith. It was just another reason he kept Sordith close. A man quick enough to kill you had best be on your side; the alternative was to dispose of him, and Sordith’s quick mind for business was too valuable to waste. “Still angry about being here?” Aorun asked with amusement.
“Best we not discuss it.” Sordith’s terse response was confirmation enough. The belated “m’lord” he added was clearly nothing more than deference to Aorun’s rank.
“ Oh, why is that?” Aorun glanced
Aorun slowly straightened up as well, still clearly angered even though he held Sordith in high regard. “You have work to do. What time will the man be here?” he growled, crossing his arms.
“In two hours,” Sordith replied coldly. “I will see to it that a couple of your men brings those gathered into the receiving room.”
“Good. I expect your numbers on my desk at the end of the day,” Aorun stated.
S ordith nodded. “Of course, my lord.” He turned to set about his duties when Aorun called to him again.
“Sordith. One last thing.” Aorun waited until Sordith stopped and turned around to look at him. “I want you at my side while the stable lord is in the hall.”
“I have no desire to be anywhere near that business.” Sordith’s voice was tense.
“Exactly! Which is why you will be. Owen is far too willing offer his services, and it is distracting.” Aorun’s tone held disgust, but it also left no room for argument.
Sordith took a deep breath. “As you command.” He bowed low, then turned on his heel and departed.
Aorun watched him go, shaking his head. He counted on Sordith’s honor and skill in areas where Aorun was less proficient. Sordith did kill, but he had this sense of warped justice that sometimes reared up the way it just had. Aorun was fairly sure Sordith had never taken a wench to his bed that hadn’t sought it first. The rogue had never even taken advantage of the stable lord’s offer to come to the third tier. Sordith lived simply, as was evident by his room; it had what the man needed, all of fine quality, but not much more.
Aorun walked alongside his walls, running his fingers along the inset stone shelves, which were full of treasures from all around the world. He liked looking at new and odd things. From strange books to beautiful pottery, his was a collection of world travels he longed to take, but on which he’d never venture. He sighed softly and wandered back to the balcony to stare out at the ships.
Sordith had called him a coward. In one way, Aorun knew he was. His fear of water would always keep his feet on this isle, locked into a position of power from which there was no escape. It had been his decision to seek the heart of the last Trench Lord, and it wasn’t a choice he regretted. But in many ways, Aorun realized he was as much a prisoner of position as a ruling lord. He sighed again and went back to his desk, opening the drawer, and removing a silver flask of smalgut, from which he took a straight shot. Grimacing at the burn, Aorun closed his eyes, letting the alcohol scald its way down and accepting its gentle release of his anxiety.
Sordith joined Aorun at the appointed time. His right hand’s face was tightly schooled to hide his displeasure, but Aorun knew that Sordith was still indignant by the stiff bearing of his posture and the way he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword. Unlike Aorun, who wore a sword on his back, Sordith favored two smaller swords at his hips. Aorun had to admit that if any man were quick enough to best him, it would be Sordith. It was just another reason he kept Sordith close. A man quick enough to kill you had best be on your side; the alternative was to dispose of him, and Sordith’s quick mind for business was too valuable to waste. “Still angry about being here?” Aorun asked with amusement.
“Best we not discuss it.” Sordith’s terse response was confirmation enough. The belated “m’lord” he added was clearly nothing more than deference to Aorun’s rank.
“ Oh, why is that?” Aorun glanced
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