Read Online The Gambler's Fortune (Einarinn 3) by Juliet E. McKenna - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Juliet E. McKenna
Tags: Fantasy
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thirstily. “We’ve just come up from Col.”
“Do I owe you money or something, Sandy?” ’Gren challenged Usara’s inquisitive face with a bold stare of his own. “Want to try minding your own mutton?”
“This is Usara and he’s with me.” I reclaimed my cup from ’Gren and looked around for the serving girl. “We’ll get to that later. What were you doing in Col?”
“Keeping out of trouble.” Sorgrad smiled contentedly at me and I noted the fine wool broadcloth of his maroon jerkin, skillfully cut in the very latest fashion and expensively tailored to flatter his barrel of a chest. Silver ornaments on his belt and purse were plentiful and untarnished, the leather still shiny and new. His fine blond hair was neatly cut beneath an elegant cap in the new southern style. Even over stable smells and the sweaty mass of revelers, I could smell the lingering perfume of expensive bath oils.
“So your little project in Draximal went well?” I inquired innocently. The last time I’d seen the brothers, they’d been full of a madcap plan to steal a mercenary pay-chest, gold intended to finance a further season of the interminable civil wars in Lescar.
Sorgrad nodded. “We found some old friends who fancied getting paid up front for a change and not spilling too much blood. We picked the right spot on the road through the hills north of Sharlac and it was easy as clubbing a roosting bird.”
“So what brings you to Selerima?” Usara had to raise his voice as the dancers came on again to some lively pipe music.
“We thought a certain Cordainer might be here for the festival.” Sorgrad’s blue eyes burned dark with a promise of vengeance. They don’t say Mountain memories are carved in stone for nothing.
“Who?” Usara looked to me for explanation.
“Later.” Perhaps, if I could come up with an acceptable way of explaining that Arle Cordainer had masterminded that robbery I didn’t want to discuss with any Watchman. He’d recruited our services but had then found a way to leave the city with all the proceeds while the rest of us faced a climb up the gallows, almost certainly on account of him laying information. I turned to wave at a potman, summoning more wine and an extra cup.
The action resumed with a new maidservant appearing in the miser’s house. Unsurprisingly she wore the delicate mask and ringletted wig of the mislaid heroine. I poured more wine for Sorgrad since there was no point trying to get ’Gren’s attention if there was a trim female to look at. That was fine by me; as long as he was occupied, he couldn’t be getting into mischief.
“Will you be staying hereabouts after the festival?” I asked Sorgrad. “I take it you’re keeping clear of Lescar for the summer.”
“We didn’t leave anyone alive who could identify us,” he shrugged. “But yes, once we’d shared out the coin we thought it best to put a few leagues between the others and us. There are a couple with mouths no safer than a torn pocket and if they find themselves facing a swing on the nevergreen tree, they’ll speak up smart enough to save their necks.”
I nodded and chose my next words carefully. “Charoleia said that she’d heard a couple of men had been taken for the robbery and the Duke of Draximal is out for their blood.” Usara leaned forward, trying to hear what I was saying, but ’Gren pushed him back with an impatient hand as his view of the players was blocked.
Sorgrad looked at me sharply. “When did you see her?”
“Just before the turn of Aft-winter, me and Usara were on our way here,” I told him. “She’s been in Relshaz as usual; that’s how I knew you were planning to come here for the festival. She said she’d seen you at Winter Solstice?”
Sorgrad frowned into his goblet. I knew he wouldn’t question any word I claimed to have from Charoleia. Given she makes her coin talking gullible people into plausible schemes, her network for gathering information is second to
“Do I owe you money or something, Sandy?” ’Gren challenged Usara’s inquisitive face with a bold stare of his own. “Want to try minding your own mutton?”
“This is Usara and he’s with me.” I reclaimed my cup from ’Gren and looked around for the serving girl. “We’ll get to that later. What were you doing in Col?”
“Keeping out of trouble.” Sorgrad smiled contentedly at me and I noted the fine wool broadcloth of his maroon jerkin, skillfully cut in the very latest fashion and expensively tailored to flatter his barrel of a chest. Silver ornaments on his belt and purse were plentiful and untarnished, the leather still shiny and new. His fine blond hair was neatly cut beneath an elegant cap in the new southern style. Even over stable smells and the sweaty mass of revelers, I could smell the lingering perfume of expensive bath oils.
“So your little project in Draximal went well?” I inquired innocently. The last time I’d seen the brothers, they’d been full of a madcap plan to steal a mercenary pay-chest, gold intended to finance a further season of the interminable civil wars in Lescar.
Sorgrad nodded. “We found some old friends who fancied getting paid up front for a change and not spilling too much blood. We picked the right spot on the road through the hills north of Sharlac and it was easy as clubbing a roosting bird.”
“So what brings you to Selerima?” Usara had to raise his voice as the dancers came on again to some lively pipe music.
“We thought a certain Cordainer might be here for the festival.” Sorgrad’s blue eyes burned dark with a promise of vengeance. They don’t say Mountain memories are carved in stone for nothing.
“Who?” Usara looked to me for explanation.
“Later.” Perhaps, if I could come up with an acceptable way of explaining that Arle Cordainer had masterminded that robbery I didn’t want to discuss with any Watchman. He’d recruited our services but had then found a way to leave the city with all the proceeds while the rest of us faced a climb up the gallows, almost certainly on account of him laying information. I turned to wave at a potman, summoning more wine and an extra cup.
The action resumed with a new maidservant appearing in the miser’s house. Unsurprisingly she wore the delicate mask and ringletted wig of the mislaid heroine. I poured more wine for Sorgrad since there was no point trying to get ’Gren’s attention if there was a trim female to look at. That was fine by me; as long as he was occupied, he couldn’t be getting into mischief.
“Will you be staying hereabouts after the festival?” I asked Sorgrad. “I take it you’re keeping clear of Lescar for the summer.”
“We didn’t leave anyone alive who could identify us,” he shrugged. “But yes, once we’d shared out the coin we thought it best to put a few leagues between the others and us. There are a couple with mouths no safer than a torn pocket and if they find themselves facing a swing on the nevergreen tree, they’ll speak up smart enough to save their necks.”
I nodded and chose my next words carefully. “Charoleia said that she’d heard a couple of men had been taken for the robbery and the Duke of Draximal is out for their blood.” Usara leaned forward, trying to hear what I was saying, but ’Gren pushed him back with an impatient hand as his view of the players was blocked.
Sorgrad looked at me sharply. “When did you see her?”
“Just before the turn of Aft-winter, me and Usara were on our way here,” I told him. “She’s been in Relshaz as usual; that’s how I knew you were planning to come here for the festival. She said she’d seen you at Winter Solstice?”
Sorgrad frowned into his goblet. I knew he wouldn’t question any word I claimed to have from Charoleia. Given she makes her coin talking gullible people into plausible schemes, her network for gathering information is second to
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