Read Online The Margrave by Catherine Fisher - Free Book Online Page B

victory.”
     
     
    IT WAS A LONG ROOM, high up in the keep, and had probably been the castellan’s, Raffi thought. But Alberic had made a few changes. The desk had been spread with a white cloth and was covered with dishes of hot food: steamy tureens, chicken legs, fresh soft bread. A small hog was roasting on a spit over the fire. All around the room plunder was stacked; sacks of metal objects, with candlesticks and goblets spilling out, piles of clothing, a scatter of silver ingots and whole arsenals of weapons. Alberic sat with a chicken bone in one hand and a great cup of wine in the other, in a high jeweled chair that had obviously been made to fit him. His feet were propped up on the desk. Behind, near the window, a luxurious bed with one glass ball on each bedpost spilled its silken sheets onto the floor.
    When they saw Galen, the three bodyguards on the bench by the door stood up as one. The keeper eyed them. “You never used to be so timid, warlord.”
    Alberic dropped the picked bone and licked his fingers. “Flain’s bloody thumb,” he said acidly. “It really is you. Not a bad dream after all.”
    “No dream.” Galen came forward, picked up a chicken leg, and tossed it to Raffi, who caught it deftly. “Only too real.”
    Alberic scowled and jerked his head ungraciously at the men, who sat. He was wearing a very fine dressing gown of ivory brocade—Raffi had never seen anything so sumptuous. Sikka was sitting with him, and on the other side of the table, his big, bearded henchman Godric, who waved Raffi over. “Come on, boy! God, how I remember what your master calls breakfast. There’s plenty here.”
    Raffi edged nearer, but Galen stopped him with a glance.
    “Well, keeper.” Alberic sipped the wine. “I can’t say I’m thrilled you’re here, but I’m not a man to bear hard feelings.” Godric almost choked; the dwarf eyed him coldly. “You’re free to go. As far as you like.”
    “That’s very kind.” Galen pulled up a chair and sat on it sideways. “However, I think you’ll be seeing a little more of us, thief-lord.”
    “More? I don’t think you get my meaning.”
    “Or you mine. We’re staying.”
    “I knew it!” Alberic flung down the wine cup. “And now you’re going to spin me some yarn that the Makers arranged all this! That my strategy—my brilliant strategy—and months of planning were just some ploy to get you and your worthless rabble in here!”
    “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
    Raffi’s chicken bone was picked clean. He went and dropped it on a plate. Godric winked, and passed him a peppered chop and a hunk of bread.
    Alberic jumped down from his chair. He prowled wrathfully around the room, kicking a goblet that rolled across the floor. “You’re a fanatic, Galen, and dangerous to know. I’ve never got over that curse you put on me. I don’t think I’ve had a good night’s sleep since. Whatever you’re up to, you can count me out! I want nothing to do with you, your Order, your crazy tales or your talking trees.” He stopped, slapping himself on the forehead. “Flainsteeth! Listen to me! Who’s in charge here anyway!” He spun and clicked his fingers at the bodyguards, who stood menacingly. “What’s to stop me selling you all to the Watch! What a price the Crow would make.”
    Galen looked around, totally unconcerned. The Sekoi came up behind him and surveyed the breakfast table. “We’re your friends, Alberic, remember. Don’t you eat any fruit?”
    “Friends!” The dwarf stared up in disbelief. “God, you people have got a nerve.”
    “Why the Castle of Halen?” Galen asked quietly.
    It was Godric who answered. “Had to move out from the old place. A plague of flies came out of the Unfinished Lands. Bloodflies. Or something like. As big as your hand with a sting to match. They got into the food, the clothes, demolished crops, even had a go at livestock. Everyone fled; there was no one left to rob. So the chief said he