Read Online The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood by A.J. Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: A.J. Smith
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his glass and gulping down a large measure. Glenwood had often wished for a more interesting life, or for the opportunity to ally himself with a powerful individual, but to be the minion of an insane Kirin assassin as he went on a killing spree around Tor Funweir was not what he had had in mind.
* * *
The knight marshal’s barracks of Ro Tiris was an impressive building. It sat within sight of the king’s palace, next to the empty training grounds of the Red knights. The White Spire of Tiris still flew the banner of the king – a white eagle in flight – despite the fact that the monarch was currently waging a war in the Freelands of Ranen.
The streets in the royal quarter were clean and well maintained. This was only the second time Glenwood had been there and he felt out of place. Despite his current finery, the man of Leith was merely playing at being a noble. He had the longsword, the heritage and the charming banter, but the stink of criminality was difficult to wash off. Looking down at his blue tunic, embroidered waistcoat and leather riding boots, he knew he could look good when he needed to. He had shaved, wore his blonde hair loose to the shoulders, and had buckled on an ornate scabbard for his sword.
‘I think you look splendid, Kale,’ murmured Rham Jas. The Kirin had started walking behind Glenwood as soon as they’d entered the royal quarter. ‘I barely recognize you.’
‘Hopefully the watchmen on the gate won’t recognize me either,’ he replied.
‘I’m not an idiot, Kale. I checked before I came up with this cunning plan. The guards will be king’s men and Purple clerics – no one who’d have dealt with a small-time streak of shit like you.’
He glanced over his shoulder and saw an enormous grin on the assassin’s face. Rham Jas had discarded all his weaponry, leaving it locked in Glenwood’s brothel, and transformed his appearance simply by having a wash. He was still swarthy-looking, but, with his hair clean and tied back, and his face shaved, Rham Jas Rami looked completely different. Standing behind a noble, he’d be regarded as nothing more than a slightly exotic servant.
‘How exactly are you going to kill a woman that can’t be killed?’ Glenwood asked, turning a corner and approaching the knight marshal’s barracks.
‘Don’t know. I suppose I’ll improvise.’ It was not reassuring, but Glenwood knew that Rham Jas was not so reckless as to get himself pointlessly killed.
The streets of the royal quarter were lit by globed lanterns. The bottom level of the barracks was palatial, raised from the dusty training ground and approached by white stone steps. The title of ‘barracks’ was largely ceremonial and instead the building served as the administrative centre of the city, used by senior churchmen, knights and officials for conducting the daily business of Ro Tiris. It was also used for those occasions when formality required a sophisticated gathering of nobles.
Many bound men and servants could be seen swarming dutifully towards the barracks. Glenwood breathed deeply. As they came closer, he slowed his pace and began to sweat. Two Purple clerics were on guard at street level in front of the gates. Behind them, the white steps were flanked by ornately dressed king’s men, standing in gold and silver armour and looking bored.
Glenwood pulled the forged invitation from his waistcoat and puffed out his cheeks, hoping that his forgery skills, coupled with his appearance, would be sufficient to get them inside. The old longsword buckled at his side was the closest thing he owned for proof of his lineage, and as he looked down it appeared dull in comparison with the finely crafted weapons carried by the clerics.
‘Stop fucking worrying,’ whispered Rham Jas from behind, sensing the forger’s anxiety.
‘I’ll stop worrying when I’m back at home next to a warm woman,’ he replied. ‘What do I do while you’re running from the guardsmen?’
Rham Jas
* * *
The knight marshal’s barracks of Ro Tiris was an impressive building. It sat within sight of the king’s palace, next to the empty training grounds of the Red knights. The White Spire of Tiris still flew the banner of the king – a white eagle in flight – despite the fact that the monarch was currently waging a war in the Freelands of Ranen.
The streets in the royal quarter were clean and well maintained. This was only the second time Glenwood had been there and he felt out of place. Despite his current finery, the man of Leith was merely playing at being a noble. He had the longsword, the heritage and the charming banter, but the stink of criminality was difficult to wash off. Looking down at his blue tunic, embroidered waistcoat and leather riding boots, he knew he could look good when he needed to. He had shaved, wore his blonde hair loose to the shoulders, and had buckled on an ornate scabbard for his sword.
‘I think you look splendid, Kale,’ murmured Rham Jas. The Kirin had started walking behind Glenwood as soon as they’d entered the royal quarter. ‘I barely recognize you.’
‘Hopefully the watchmen on the gate won’t recognize me either,’ he replied.
‘I’m not an idiot, Kale. I checked before I came up with this cunning plan. The guards will be king’s men and Purple clerics – no one who’d have dealt with a small-time streak of shit like you.’
He glanced over his shoulder and saw an enormous grin on the assassin’s face. Rham Jas had discarded all his weaponry, leaving it locked in Glenwood’s brothel, and transformed his appearance simply by having a wash. He was still swarthy-looking, but, with his hair clean and tied back, and his face shaved, Rham Jas Rami looked completely different. Standing behind a noble, he’d be regarded as nothing more than a slightly exotic servant.
‘How exactly are you going to kill a woman that can’t be killed?’ Glenwood asked, turning a corner and approaching the knight marshal’s barracks.
‘Don’t know. I suppose I’ll improvise.’ It was not reassuring, but Glenwood knew that Rham Jas was not so reckless as to get himself pointlessly killed.
The streets of the royal quarter were lit by globed lanterns. The bottom level of the barracks was palatial, raised from the dusty training ground and approached by white stone steps. The title of ‘barracks’ was largely ceremonial and instead the building served as the administrative centre of the city, used by senior churchmen, knights and officials for conducting the daily business of Ro Tiris. It was also used for those occasions when formality required a sophisticated gathering of nobles.
Many bound men and servants could be seen swarming dutifully towards the barracks. Glenwood breathed deeply. As they came closer, he slowed his pace and began to sweat. Two Purple clerics were on guard at street level in front of the gates. Behind them, the white steps were flanked by ornately dressed king’s men, standing in gold and silver armour and looking bored.
Glenwood pulled the forged invitation from his waistcoat and puffed out his cheeks, hoping that his forgery skills, coupled with his appearance, would be sufficient to get them inside. The old longsword buckled at his side was the closest thing he owned for proof of his lineage, and as he looked down it appeared dull in comparison with the finely crafted weapons carried by the clerics.
‘Stop fucking worrying,’ whispered Rham Jas from behind, sensing the forger’s anxiety.
‘I’ll stop worrying when I’m back at home next to a warm woman,’ he replied. ‘What do I do while you’re running from the guardsmen?’
Rham Jas
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