Book 1 - Shadow Games Read Free

known.
    Two hundred ghost bows bent. Fifty hands tried to find some
sky-belly to grab. “I suggest you dismount and disarm,”
I told their captain. He gulped air a few times, considered the
odds, did as directed. “Now clear away from the horses. You
naughty boys.”
    They moved. Lady made a gesture. The horses all turned and
trotted toward Goblin, who was their real motivator. He let the
animals pass. They would return to the inn, to proclaim the terror
ended.
    Slick. Oh, slick. Not even a hangnail. That was the way we did
it in the old days. Maneuver and trickery. Why get yourself hurt if
you can whip them with a shuffle and con?
    We got the prisoners into a rope line where they could be
adequately controlled, then headed south. The brigands were greatly
exercised when Goblin and One-Eye relaxed. They didn’t think
it was fair of us.
    Two days later we reached Vest. With One-Eye and Goblin again
supporting her grand illusion, Lady remanded the deserters to the
justice of the garrison commander. We only had to kill two of them
to get them there.
    Something of a distraction along the road. Now there was none,
and Charm drew closer by the hour. I had to face the fact that
trouble beckoned.
    The bulk of the Annals, which my companions believed to be in my
possession, remained in Imperial hands. They had been captured at
Queen’s Bridge, an old defeat that still stings. I was
promised their return shortly before the crisis in the Barrowland.
But that crisis prevented their delivery. Afterward, there was
nothing to do but go fetch them myself.
     
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Chapter Three: A TAVERN IN TAGLIOS
    Willow scrunched a little more comfortably into his chair. The
girls giggled and dared one another to touch his cornsilk hair. The
one with the most promising eyes reached, ran her fingers down its
length. Willow looked across the room, winked at Cordy Mather.
    This was the life—till their fathers and brothers got wise. This
was every man’s dream—with the same old lethal risks
a-sneaking. If it kept on, and did not catch up, he’d soon
weigh four hundred pounds and be the happiest slug in Taglios.
    Who would have thought it? A simple tavern in a straitlaced burg
like this. A hole in the wall like those that graced every other
street corner back home, here such a novelty they couldn’t
help getting rich. If the priests didn’t get over their
inertia and shove a stick into the spokes.
    Of course, it helped them being exotic outlanders that the whole
city wanted to see. Even those priests. And their little chickies.
Especially their little brown daughters.
    A long, insane journey getting here, but worth every dreadful
step now.
    He folded his hands upon his chest and let the girls take what
liberties they wanted. He could handle it. He could put up with
it.
    He watched Cordy tap another barrel of the bitter, third-rate
green beer he’d brewed. These Taglian fools paid three times
what it was worth. What kind of a place never ran into beer before?
Hell. The kind of place guys with no special talents and itchy feet
dream of finding.
    Cordy brought a mug over. He said, “Swan, this keeps on,
we’re going to have to hire somebody to help me brew.
We’re going to be tapped out in a couple days.”
    “Why worry? How long can it last? Those priest characters
are starting to smolder now. They’re going to start looking
for some excuse to shut us down. Worry about finding another racket
as sweet, not about making more beer faster. What?”
    “What do you mean, what?”
    “You got a grim look all of a sudden.”
    “The blackbird of doom just walked in the front
door.”
    Willow twisted so he could see that end of the room. Sure
enough, Blade had come home. Tall, lean, ebony, head shaved to a
polish, muscles rippling with the slightest movement, he looked
like some kind of gleaming statue. He looked around without
approval. Then he strode to Willow’s table, took a seat. The
girls gave him the eye. He was as exotic as Willow