Read Online The Light of Heaven by David A McIntee - Free Book Online
Authors: David A McIntee
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and one man from each side dismounted to meet the other.
"Scarra," Goran Kell said. He carried himself like a soldier, or a noble, and despaired of the slouching fat man. Scarra was far from ascetic, and far from a fighter, but his family was rich, and that made him useful.
"Everything is prepared, Kell. Our man knows what he has to do. There's backup to cover his escape."
Kell smiled mirthlessly. "There's been a change of plan." He beckoned to a tired-looking youth who was waiting in his entourage, on a tired-looking horse. The youth trotted forward. "Tell Scarra what you've just told me."
"Ludwig Rhodon was shot not an hour ago."
"Excellent news!" Scarra exclaimed. "You know, my boy, I have had my doubts about this scheme, but it's a great relief to know that it was merely needless worry." A frown crossed his face. "Actually, isn't it a little early? I thought it was supposed to happen at the feast."
"Oddly enough," Kell said calmly, "I thought that too. I know that, and you know that. But it would have been nice if you'd made absolutely certain that Lukas knew that as well."
"He knew! Of course he knew the plan!"
Kell's expression didn't change. "Someone didn't. So I'm changing the follow-up, just in case. We can't remain in this area. The Swords of Dawn are scouring all of Kalten. I suggest you find a safe territory for a few days. That's certainly what I shall be doing."
Scarra stiffened. "You can't just leave like this!"
Kell raised an eyebrow. "You'd prefer if I stayed here, got caught, and told the Confessors where to find you?"
"We should -"
"We should leave and neither of us should tell the other where he's going." With that, Goran Kell returned to his horse and rode away, his entourage falling in behind him.
Karel Scarra suddenly felt very cold and alone. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be rising among his peers, basking in the glow of history.
He turned and walked back to his retinue. The waiting mercenaries wore tabards bearing a red dagger. By the time he reached them, he had worked out how to tell them that Kell had messed things up and fled. Yes, that explanation would suffice. The brighter thought struck him that perhaps he could make some advantage out of this. He had spent a great deal in bribes lately, so perhaps he could recoup some of the costs now, cutting down on some more outlay.
He composed himself, arranging his features into an expression that mixed anger, apology and, hopefully, some charm. He mounted his horse before addressing his personal guard of mercenaries, feeling that he would be more commanding from the saddle than from the ground.
"My friends, we are betrayed!" he announced dramatically. "Something has happened in Kalten that was not part of Kell's plan. And Kell has decided to flee, abandoning us to our fate. I have decided that we should not go with him, as he will doubtless lead us to disaster."
"What's the plan?" a shaven-headed mercenary with large ears and a scar across his brow demanded.
"We'll make for the vineyard, Hasso. There I shall pay you my share of your wage, and we'll decide our next -"
"Wait," Hasso snapped. He nudged his horse next to Scarra's, as the other men murmured among themselves. "What do you mean, your half?"
"Kell has taken half our funds with him."
Scarra felt a sudden chill. His instinct for survival struggled with his instinct to be tight with his money, and it was a case of the proverbial irresistible force meeting the immovable object. He smiled beatifically, hiding his fear.
"We hired you together, but while he robs you, I will stand by my promise, and pay what I owe..."
"You mean half of what we are owed, don't you?"
Scarra considered throwing himself on their mercy, but couldn't bring himself to do so. They were his employees, after all. Most of them were just thugs, not particularly intelligent and he was sure he could convince them that the absence of Kell meant the absence of half their fee.
"Scarra," Goran Kell said. He carried himself like a soldier, or a noble, and despaired of the slouching fat man. Scarra was far from ascetic, and far from a fighter, but his family was rich, and that made him useful.
"Everything is prepared, Kell. Our man knows what he has to do. There's backup to cover his escape."
Kell smiled mirthlessly. "There's been a change of plan." He beckoned to a tired-looking youth who was waiting in his entourage, on a tired-looking horse. The youth trotted forward. "Tell Scarra what you've just told me."
"Ludwig Rhodon was shot not an hour ago."
"Excellent news!" Scarra exclaimed. "You know, my boy, I have had my doubts about this scheme, but it's a great relief to know that it was merely needless worry." A frown crossed his face. "Actually, isn't it a little early? I thought it was supposed to happen at the feast."
"Oddly enough," Kell said calmly, "I thought that too. I know that, and you know that. But it would have been nice if you'd made absolutely certain that Lukas knew that as well."
"He knew! Of course he knew the plan!"
Kell's expression didn't change. "Someone didn't. So I'm changing the follow-up, just in case. We can't remain in this area. The Swords of Dawn are scouring all of Kalten. I suggest you find a safe territory for a few days. That's certainly what I shall be doing."
Scarra stiffened. "You can't just leave like this!"
Kell raised an eyebrow. "You'd prefer if I stayed here, got caught, and told the Confessors where to find you?"
"We should -"
"We should leave and neither of us should tell the other where he's going." With that, Goran Kell returned to his horse and rode away, his entourage falling in behind him.
Karel Scarra suddenly felt very cold and alone. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be rising among his peers, basking in the glow of history.
He turned and walked back to his retinue. The waiting mercenaries wore tabards bearing a red dagger. By the time he reached them, he had worked out how to tell them that Kell had messed things up and fled. Yes, that explanation would suffice. The brighter thought struck him that perhaps he could make some advantage out of this. He had spent a great deal in bribes lately, so perhaps he could recoup some of the costs now, cutting down on some more outlay.
He composed himself, arranging his features into an expression that mixed anger, apology and, hopefully, some charm. He mounted his horse before addressing his personal guard of mercenaries, feeling that he would be more commanding from the saddle than from the ground.
"My friends, we are betrayed!" he announced dramatically. "Something has happened in Kalten that was not part of Kell's plan. And Kell has decided to flee, abandoning us to our fate. I have decided that we should not go with him, as he will doubtless lead us to disaster."
"What's the plan?" a shaven-headed mercenary with large ears and a scar across his brow demanded.
"We'll make for the vineyard, Hasso. There I shall pay you my share of your wage, and we'll decide our next -"
"Wait," Hasso snapped. He nudged his horse next to Scarra's, as the other men murmured among themselves. "What do you mean, your half?"
"Kell has taken half our funds with him."
Scarra felt a sudden chill. His instinct for survival struggled with his instinct to be tight with his money, and it was a case of the proverbial irresistible force meeting the immovable object. He smiled beatifically, hiding his fear.
"We hired you together, but while he robs you, I will stand by my promise, and pay what I owe..."
"You mean half of what we are owed, don't you?"
Scarra considered throwing himself on their mercy, but couldn't bring himself to do so. They were his employees, after all. Most of them were just thugs, not particularly intelligent and he was sure he could convince them that the absence of Kell meant the absence of half their fee.
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