Read Online The Dark Defiles by Richard K. Morgan - Free Book Online

discretion attached to getting out of town after his clash with clan Ashant. And underlying, he knew, was a generous helping of nostalgia for the camaraderie of the war years. The quest had felt like the war again, at least the preparatory part. But he’d reasoned that while there might indeed be some fighting along the way—pirates, unruly locals, maybe finally the minions of this long undead warlord they couldn’t seem to find—still, he’d thought he could take his place in the line without having to worry about what other men thought or feared or needed.
    Yeah, some fucking chance.
    He went back through to the bedchamber, found Barla fastening up his satchel and looking distinctly queasy. He manufactured an easy grin.
    “Don’t worry, Doc. I’ll walk you out.”
    “Is that, uh …” The doctor swallowed. “Really necessary?”
    “No, probably not,” Egar lied. “But it’s best not to take any chances, tempers the way they are right now.”
    Also best not to mention that for most of Shendanak’s crew, the ones who hadn’t been off the steppe longer than a couple of years, a doctor was just a shaman without the Sky Dwellers to call upon. And fail to deliver the magical goods without the gods at your back, you could end up in a ditch with a slit throat—he’d seen it happen more than once to itinerant doctors from the south in Ishlin-ichan.
    “Yes, well, uhm.” Barla put both hands on the closed satchel and looked down at it, as if considering a rapid change of profession. “Thank you. But could not captain Rakan and his men, uh … ?”
    “Better if it’s me.” Egar’s smile was starting to feel like smeared jam on his face. “Come on, let’s get you back aboard the Pride. Shanta could probably use another one of those stinking herbal infusions you make, and he won’t drink it if you’re not there to force it down.”
    In the other chamber, Rakan heard the plan and nodded agreement with barely a word. He was a pretty shrewd lad for his age; he saw the sense in this. But as his men got the door, he beckoned Egar aside for a moment and the Dragonbane saw how his youth leaked through the façade of soldierly calm.
    “When do you think my lord Ringil will return?” he asked quietly.
    Egar shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, Captain. A day there by boat, they said. A day back. That’s two, plus a day to do the digging and rest …”
    “It’s been four days already. What if something’s wrong?”
    “Well, they might have a hard time finding the grave marker, sure. Or, if the weather’s against them—”
    “No.” Rakan’s voice grew tighter, lower. “Not that. What if this time he found the Illwrack Changeling?”
    Near the opened door, Salbak Barla cleared his throat. Egar shot a glance that way, saw Rakan’s men hanging off their captain’s every word. He pitched his own voice loud and brisk.
    “If that has happened, Captain, then pity the Changeling. Because Gil’s going to be bringing us his head on a spike and his balls wrapped around the haft.”
    It raised weak grins among the men, which he counted a victory of sorts. He wagged a finger in salute at Rakan, led Barla out the door.
    To his relief, both corridor and stairs outside were cleared of men. Durhan and Gart appeared to have followed their instructions to the letter. Downstairs in the tavern’s main bar, four Majak sat at a table, burning a blessing taper and playing halfheartedly at dice. Serving staff and a couple of local patrons aside, they were the bar’s only occupants. They grew quieter as the doctor and the Dragonbane came down the stairs, but they all lowered their eyes with appropriate respect. Egar paused at the table and sketched obeisance at the taper, nodded acknowledgment at the man he judged the eldest. Then he ushered Salbak Barla past, one proprietary hand on the doctor’s shoulder for all to see.
    He felt their stares at his back, all the way to tavern’s front door.
    Out in the