A Cry of Honor by Morgan Rice

Author:Morgan Rice [Rice, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-03-12T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Godfrey walked with Akorth and Fulton down the back streets of King’s Court, on guard, keeping a loose hand on the dagger on his belt as he went. His eyes shifted, and he was increasingly paranoid in light of the week’s events. Godfrey no longer underestimated the tyranny of his brother’s reach, and felt he could be assassinated at any moment. He had become closer to Akorth and Fulton than ever, grateful to them for helping save him, and while they were hardly warriors, they were at least two more bodies, two more sets of eyes to stay vigilant.

Godfrey turned the corner and saw the sign for his old tavern, hanging crookedly, swinging in the afternoon, drunks spilling out of it, and felt a sense of repulsion. A wave of anxiety overwhelmed him. He no longer felt comforted being here; now he just associated the place with his near-death. He had told himself he would never walk through its doors again.

But he trudged forward, despite his fears, right through the open door, because he was determined. He was determined to bring Gareth down, whatever the cost, whatever the personal danger. There was too much at stake for him now, too much blood that had been drawn. He couldn’t just let this go and disappear quietly in the night. He had to find out who had tried to poison him—not for his own sake, but for the sake of them all. If he could prove the assassination plot, then legally it would be enough for the Council to depose Gareth. All he needed was a witness. One credible witness.

But in this part of town, credibility was a rare commodity.

Godfrey and his friends entered the tavern, and several of his old compatriots stopped and looking his way. Their expressions told him they were surprised to see him alive; they looked as if they were watching a walking ghost. He did not blame them. He also felt certain he would die the night before, and that it was a miracle he had survived.

Slowly, the room came back to life, and Godfrey made his way over to the bar, Akorth and Fulton beside him, and they took up their old seats. The barkeep looked at Godfrey warily, then ambled over to them.

“I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon,” he said in his deep, shaky voice. “In fact, I didn’t expect to see you here at all. You seemed pretty dead last I saw you.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Godfrey responded.

The barkeep looked over, rubbed the stubble on his chin, then broke into a large smile, revealing crooked teeth. He reached out and clasped Godfrey’s forearm, and Godfrey clasped him back.

“You son of a bitch,” the barkeep said. “You really do have nine lives. I’m glad you’re back.”

The barkeep filled tankards for Akorth and Fulton.

“None for me?” Godfrey asked, surprised.

The barkeep shook his head.

“I promised your sister. She’s a tough one, and I’m not keen to break it.”

Godfrey nodded. He understood. A part of him wanted the drink, but another part of him was glad for the encouragement not to.

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