Read Online Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) by Ben Cassidy - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Cassidy
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then left.
Kendril closed his eyes, giving a contented sigh. “A real feather bed.”
Joseph glanced over at a couple of women laughing in the corner. “I always feel like I’m sinking into a bed like that. Too used to sleeping on the ground, I suppose.”
Kendril crossed his arms. “Have it your way. I intend to enjoy a little bit of civilized comfort for once.”
Joseph smiled. “Well,” he said slowly, “I think I might go for a walk before I turn in.”
“Back to the jail?” asked Kendril.
Joseph started. “How…what do you--?”
“Maklavir told me you ran off to the jail while he was at the tailor’s.” Kendril looked over at his companion. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain red-headed bandit, would it?”
Joseph bristled. “Possibly,” he acceded at last.
Kendril looked away. “I thought so.”
“They’re going to hang her, Kendril.”
The Ghostwalker gave an unconcerned shrug. “Isn’t that generally what they do with thieves?”
The scout lowered his eyebrows. “How can you be so callous?”
Kendril shot him a look. “Callous? Last I remember that sweet young thing was holding a loaded bow at us and robbing all our possessions.”
Joseph looked away, glowering. “I don’t think she deserves to die.”
“But it’s not really your choice to make, is it?” Kendril sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Don’t get caught up with this woman, Joseph. You’ll only end up regretting it.”
Joseph gave a sudden laugh. “You’re certainly one to talk about getting caught up with women.”
Kendril’s brow furrowed. “You won’t get into the jail tonight anyway,” he said slowly. “Might as well let it go until the morning.”
Joseph took a deep breath and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” He glanced up the stairs towards the second floor of the palace. “I might call it a night, I think. See you tomorrow, Kendril.”
The Ghostwalker nodded, watching Joseph as he disappeared up the stairs. For a moment he continued to stand by the potted plant, staring up at the murals above him.
“Care to join me for that drink in the study, Kendril?”
Kendril turned and saw Lord Bathsby standing behind him. He thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Why not?”
“Make yourself at home,” said Bathsby as he tossed his cloak on a chair by the wall. He moved over to a finely polished chestnut desk located beneath a window that looked out over the palace garden. Outside the moon had just risen, bathing the bushes and hedgerows in a shining silver.
The study was rather large, set off from the main hall of the palace by a separate hallway. From the open door Kendril could just barely make out the low murmur of voices from the guests in the main hall, though it seemed like more and more people were starting to leave. The study itself had a wide bookshelf on two walls, covered with volumes of every kind of description. A large table stood near the desk, covered with maps and charts. On the walls were several curious trophies, including a shining scimitar that hung above the window, and a green and blue tartan above the door.
Kendril nodded towards the plaid. “What’s that?”
Bathsby glanced up. “A Jogarthi tartan, from the Helmas Clan, if I remember correctly.” He pulled out a short bottle and two glasses, and set them down on the wide desk. “I got it during my first campaign in the Dagger Hills, when I was seventeen.” The nobleman chuckled darkly. “I received a battlefield commission after I killed the chieftain who was wearing it.” He uncorked the top of the bottle. “Brandy?”
Kendril nodded. “Thanks.” His gaze wandered towards the titles on one of the bookshelves. Daltridge’s History of the War of the Third Despair was there, along with more scientific works like Keeling’s Principia Scientifica , as well as Erfort’s Flora and Fauna of South Rothland . He stopped on Hartland’s Treatise for a Citizen Militia and its Various Benefits
Kendril closed his eyes, giving a contented sigh. “A real feather bed.”
Joseph glanced over at a couple of women laughing in the corner. “I always feel like I’m sinking into a bed like that. Too used to sleeping on the ground, I suppose.”
Kendril crossed his arms. “Have it your way. I intend to enjoy a little bit of civilized comfort for once.”
Joseph smiled. “Well,” he said slowly, “I think I might go for a walk before I turn in.”
“Back to the jail?” asked Kendril.
Joseph started. “How…what do you--?”
“Maklavir told me you ran off to the jail while he was at the tailor’s.” Kendril looked over at his companion. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain red-headed bandit, would it?”
Joseph bristled. “Possibly,” he acceded at last.
Kendril looked away. “I thought so.”
“They’re going to hang her, Kendril.”
The Ghostwalker gave an unconcerned shrug. “Isn’t that generally what they do with thieves?”
The scout lowered his eyebrows. “How can you be so callous?”
Kendril shot him a look. “Callous? Last I remember that sweet young thing was holding a loaded bow at us and robbing all our possessions.”
Joseph looked away, glowering. “I don’t think she deserves to die.”
“But it’s not really your choice to make, is it?” Kendril sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Don’t get caught up with this woman, Joseph. You’ll only end up regretting it.”
Joseph gave a sudden laugh. “You’re certainly one to talk about getting caught up with women.”
Kendril’s brow furrowed. “You won’t get into the jail tonight anyway,” he said slowly. “Might as well let it go until the morning.”
Joseph took a deep breath and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” He glanced up the stairs towards the second floor of the palace. “I might call it a night, I think. See you tomorrow, Kendril.”
The Ghostwalker nodded, watching Joseph as he disappeared up the stairs. For a moment he continued to stand by the potted plant, staring up at the murals above him.
“Care to join me for that drink in the study, Kendril?”
Kendril turned and saw Lord Bathsby standing behind him. He thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Why not?”
“Make yourself at home,” said Bathsby as he tossed his cloak on a chair by the wall. He moved over to a finely polished chestnut desk located beneath a window that looked out over the palace garden. Outside the moon had just risen, bathing the bushes and hedgerows in a shining silver.
The study was rather large, set off from the main hall of the palace by a separate hallway. From the open door Kendril could just barely make out the low murmur of voices from the guests in the main hall, though it seemed like more and more people were starting to leave. The study itself had a wide bookshelf on two walls, covered with volumes of every kind of description. A large table stood near the desk, covered with maps and charts. On the walls were several curious trophies, including a shining scimitar that hung above the window, and a green and blue tartan above the door.
Kendril nodded towards the plaid. “What’s that?”
Bathsby glanced up. “A Jogarthi tartan, from the Helmas Clan, if I remember correctly.” He pulled out a short bottle and two glasses, and set them down on the wide desk. “I got it during my first campaign in the Dagger Hills, when I was seventeen.” The nobleman chuckled darkly. “I received a battlefield commission after I killed the chieftain who was wearing it.” He uncorked the top of the bottle. “Brandy?”
Kendril nodded. “Thanks.” His gaze wandered towards the titles on one of the bookshelves. Daltridge’s History of the War of the Third Despair was there, along with more scientific works like Keeling’s Principia Scientifica , as well as Erfort’s Flora and Fauna of South Rothland . He stopped on Hartland’s Treatise for a Citizen Militia and its Various Benefits
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