Prophet (Books of the Infinite Book #1) by R. J. Larson

Author:R. J. Larson [Larson, R. J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: FIC042000, FIC026000, FIC042080
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2012-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Kien sensed his enemy’s oblique approach, sword lifted to kill—

A brisk tapping jarred him to reality. Disgusted, he swung toward his imaginary foe, then straightened, facing the cell door. “Enter!”

It was ridiculous to give permission to enter his cell. Anyone with a key could admit themselves. Already, the lock was freed and Kien heard the bolt sliding away.

This was unexpected. It wasn’t time for him to be led outside, and he’d had no formal visitors for many weeks. Almost two months, actually. He’d begun to think the king had kindly forgotten him and that Ela’s visions were nothing but Parnian whimsicalities.

Ela’s soldier-friend, Tsir Aun, strode into the cell. “You are summoned.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. And I won’t bind you if you don’t fight.” The crown commander gave Kien’s dark garments a cold, sweeping glance. “The king will be displeased that you still wear black attire. At least it’s clean. Have you burned that old cloak?”

“With what? The fire in my nonexistent hearth?”

Kien laughed as the crown commander made a face, acceding silent defeat. Tsir Aun prompted Kien from the cell. “When we return, Tracelander, you will hand over that foul cloak. I want to watch it burn in the courtyard.”

“I’ll consider it. Who knows? Perhaps the prison will catch fire.” Kien had actually stuffed the old cloak down an outside privy several weeks past, unable to endure its mustiness any longer. However, this Istgardian soldier didn’t need to know such details. “Why have I been summoned?”

“I am not at liberty to speak.”

To provoke the crown commander—and to amuse himself—Kien began to guess. “The king has finally accepted my terms for Istgard’s surrender to the Tracelands?”

“No.” Tsir Aun goaded Kien toward the stairwell. “Watch your step.”

“The king has decided to set me free?”

“Decidedly not.”

They clattered down the stairs. In the prison’s main passage, Kien snapped his fingers. “You’re actually part of a sympathetic conspiracy, and you’re planning to free me yourself?”

“One more question and I’ll knock you senseless.” The soldier followed his threat with an impressive glare. No wonder his men obeyed him. Kien hoped Tsir Aun wasn’t in charge of the whole army yet. The Istgardian military would be entirely too disciplined and organized.

“Are you now the crown general?”

Tsir Aun shoved Kien into a wall. Once he’d gathered his senses and checked his face for dents—and found none—Kien said, “Sorry. That question escaped me.”

The crown commander marched Kien outside, where four soldiers waited. Without shields. “A rather small contingent today.”

Narrowing his eyes, Tsir Aun said, “It’s doubtful anyone will try to assassinate you after all these weeks. Nor is it likely that we’ll have to fend off rampaging destroyers.”

Meaning that he, Kien Lantec, was a dull prisoner?

Kien had to admit the ensuing walk was boring. Couldn’t Ela have caused enough mischief to accompany him for this rebuke—or whatever his meeting entailed?

Inside the palace, Kien was shown to a chamber filled with noblemen and their peculiar odors. Their mincing manners. And their sneers. He could only surmise that he’d been brought out of the prison for some royal idea of entertainment.

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