Read Online The Death of Dulgath by Michael J. Sullivan - Free Book Online Page B

interact with the lady, why not just follow my example and keep your distance? Speaking of which…” The pastor looked toward the castle entrance nervously. “I’ve done my part, and there’s little else I can accomplish here. I should be going.” Payne bowed curtly, and, with his usual stale smile, withdrew.
    As the pastor exited the courtyard, Hadrian turned to Knox. “It couldn’t hurt to look around a bit, right?” He was standing closer than usual to Royce, with that everything-is-going-to-be-all-right smile on his face. “Why not fill us in on some of the failed attempts. What exactly has happened? What made you think the countess is in danger?”
    “I’ll show you.” Knox waved for them to follow.
    The sheriff led them up a set of stone steps to one of the rear parapets. Royce scanned the length. No guards, no sentries posted. Down in the courtyard, not a single soul was visible. Tilting his head up, he noted the numerous windows, tiny dark holes in the face of the rising towers. I could walk in on a cloudless day, dressed to kill, and no one would notice.
    “Here.” Knox pointed to a missing merlon.
    Royce spotted grooves and gouges where someone had used a pry bar. Peering over, he saw the road hugged the wall just below. The square, two-foot block of stone stood out pale against the green grass, lying where it had rolled after crashing down.
    “Missed Her Ladyship by inches,” Knox said.
    After giving Royce some time to examine the area more closely, Knox led them back down to the grassy common.
    “What time of day?” Royce asked.
    “Pardon?” Knox replied.
    Royce rolled his eyes. “When the great big rock nearly crushed the pretty lady, what time of day was it?”
    “Oh, midday or thereabouts.”
    “And no one saw anything?” Hadrian asked.
    Knox shook his head and spread out his arms. “As you can see, Castle Dulgath isn’t a busy place.”
    “Nor very well protected,” Royce added with an insinuating glare.
    “You’re just looking to make all kinds of new friends today, aren’t you?” The sheriff licked his lips. “You know, I told the bishop we didn’t need outsiders coming here to tell me how to do my job. Dulgath isn’t Colnora. We don’t have people like you around here. This is a peaceful province.”
    “Really? Then why am I here?”
    “I honestly don’t know.”
    “I imagine that’s a list that’s grown uncomfortably long by now, hasn’t it?”
    Knox reached to shove Royce, who took a step back and to the side, causing the sheriff to fall on his face. “You son of a bitch…” The sheriff came off the ground with a look in his eye that told a story.
    Hadrian read it as well and moved in to block. He had a tendency to do that—get in the way—but this time Royce appreciated it. He hadn’t traveled four days and ridden a hundred and twenty-five miles to kill a province sheriff. Royce wasn’t sure Hadrian would be able to douse the sparked fire, so he shifted the bottle of pigment to his left hand then reached inside his cloak for the handle of Alverstone, his dagger.
    “Sheriff Knox!” a man called from the front doors of the castle. He walked quickly toward them. “Why don’t you introduce me to your new friends?”
    Knox violently brushed bits of grass off himself while baring his teeth at Royce.
    “Hugh, please!” the man shouted, breaking into a jog. “Don’t be rude. It’s not proper to introduce oneself.”
    The sheriff took a breath, then another. “This is Lord Christopher Fawkes, second cousin to King Vincent.”
    “Hello, gentlemen!” the lord exclaimed in a jubilant voice. He clapped his hands together and rubbed briskly, giving the appearance of a man about to embark on some great work. “You must be Royce Melborn.” He extended a hand, then drew it back, exchanging it for a raised finger. “Ah—no, you’re probably not the handshake sort, are you? That’s fine. Artists need to be mindful of their tools.”
    He turned to Hadrian.