DARTS (The Paladin's Thief Book 1) by Benjamin K Hewett

Author:Benjamin K Hewett [Hewett, Benjamin K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Benjamin K Hewett
Published: 2015-02-11T23:00:00+00:00

I haven’t survived this long by being slow. Her fist closes on air, and I’m up the tavern’s center pillar in a flash. Barkus comes running from the kitchen, but it’s too late. When Lucinda’s storm breaks, there’s no holding her back. She’s threatening to rob me and every black-hearted con within fifty miles, which includes about, oh, most of tonight’s patrons. The room’s temperature rises several degrees with that comment. It’s true, but nobody likes hearing it out loud, especially not from a pickpocket barmaid.

And then some gap-toothed idiot villager really puts his foot in it.“You can rob me anytime, lady!”

“Don’t touch Lshinda,” Markel shouts, protectively. “She’s going to shelibate with me!” His full mug, the one Lucinda gave him to shut him up, takes the man in the shoulder. Beer fountains across three tables, and more people aren’t happy.

The villager takes a swing at Markel but plants his fist in Gerard’s nose, which breaks. And Lucinda slips in the beer, overturning a table.

Presto! The monthly tavern brawl . . .

From my vantage point, it’s fairly easy to dodge the occasional mug that Lucinda throws my way. She has a good arm, but I’m a long way up, and she has to fight for every inch while keeping a sharp eye out for flying body parts. I just have to watch that arm and keep from banging my head on the spare well crank we keep up here.

The only one unaffected is Magnus. He’s standing in the middle of it all, unscathed, turning, turning, turning, looking for something—blind, suffering, and apparently scared.

Amid the crashing furniture, the front door clatters open, and night flows in like darkness falling from the deepwinter sky, seven Nightshades in flowing cloaks.

It’s clear that they’ve travelled far. The variation across the cut and cloth of their cloaks goes beyond what you’d find even in upper-Ector. Strange boots and pants are caked in road mud, and they all reek of the saddle, and the doorway is packed thicker with their traveling party than the entry to a traveling circus.

I’ve never seen a brawl end so quickly. We’re a rough crowd, but no match for Nightshades.

It’s not too late to warn the city guard, I think, but there are black cloaks behind the flapping kitchen doors, and shadows outside the windows. All my usual exits are blocked.

Only Pale Tom stands his ground. “What’s the meaning of this?” His voice thunders, amplified. I’ve never heard him talk like this before, furious and powerful, so different from his usual raspy speech. The crowd parts as he advances on the leader of the Nightshades, a hooded man gesturing to his fellows with small, white hands.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he thunders again. “I was to be left alone in my retirement, Archus. I was to choose my successor in peace! You were witness.” Tom’s voice is the embodiment of menace. Even Griphurk cringes at it.

The man Archus removes his hood. He’s just as deathly pale as Tom, but he looks surprised, and that lends him a shred of humanity.

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