Greenwood, Ed - Band of Four 01 by Greenwood Ed

Author:Greenwood, Ed [Greenwood, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2012-05-30T15:31:28+00:00

Two men, grizzled and thoughtful, clad in the breeches, vests, and overtunics favored by traders all over Darsar, wearing plain swords "hard at hand," and the expressions of men who knew how to use them, tak-ing rather less time to measure each other than most merchants do, they smiled at each other rather tenta-tively. "A bright and pleasant morning," one of them offered, looking up and down the alley as if gathering evidence for this opinion.

"So it is," the other agreed heartily, peering up and down the other. "A fine morning to deal in fish, if you're interested."

"By the Three! I was just on my way to make some purchases at the docks!" was the delighted reply, and as they bent their heads together, one merchant muttered, "Is it time?"

The other replied even more quietly, "Not yet. They should get into the wine soon; I delivered it to all the barracks last night. Wait until you hear my horn."

As if his words had been a cue, the none-too-fragrant alleyway air was shattered by the deafening blast of a hunting horn. Both men froze in astonishment. "Wha—" one of them started to say, as the Seneschal of Adeln rose out of a barrel right behind them and swung a heavy mace with brutal force.

It takes very little time, and even less fuss, to dash out the brains of two men onto the cobbles, Presgur ob-served, vaulting out of his barrel. At his feet, the bodies stopped twitching, amid faint wet sounds.

"My thanks for leading us to all your friends, idiot Silvertree foxes," he told one sprawled corpse, in tones of satisfaction. Then he turned to the other, and added, "Next time, don't use almond root to poison wine—in Adeln, soldiers still have tongues to taste with!"

Men with drawn swords ready in their hands began to appear out of dark doorways up and down both alley-ways. Presgur bent over to pluck a hunting horn from the belt of a Silvertree spy who'd be needing it no longer and ordered the nearest men, "Take these scum to Hawkroon House. Our Lord Wizard has a little sur-prise in store for overclever Silvertree mages—one in-volving fresh blood...."

The bright light of full morning touching the trees around him improved Hawkril's mood not one bit. He went on grimly twisting dead tree limbs away from the trunks they'd grown from and hurling them onto a growing pile of gathered deadfalls. This was taking too bebolten long. ...

It mattered little who heard him breaking branches or what unfriendly eyes might see the rising flame of the fire he planned; if he didn't warm his senseless companions soon, three of the Band of Four would be corpses. They lay in a little group of sodden bundles in the dell where he'd set them down, after three exhaust-ing carries through the woods from the rocks where the boat had been wrecked, to the next bend of the river, here. All the Band of Four still owned was what they wore or he'd carried hence .

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