The Sacred Hunt Duology Read Free

dogs were closing fast.
    â€œWhat’ve you brought for me?”
    â€œMarcus, please! I need to get in—they’re coming!”
    The flap shut. Stephen stood in the silence for a heartbeat before the dogs started again. He was shaking and gasping as he looked from side to side. There wasn’t any place else to run; the den had been chosen because it stood in the middle of an alley that had no escape to either side.
    He lifted his hand to strike again, and then let it drop. Steadying himself, he turned, his dagger shaking as much as his thin arms did. He would have to face them. Maybe, if he was careful, he could injure the dogs enough to get away.
    The large black and white bounded around the corner and lifted its broad, triangular head. It came to a stop but didn’t take its eyes from its quarry. At its heels came the bitch. The Hunter Lord could not be far behind.
    If he’d had food, he might have tried to bribe the dogs, or at least distract them. It was an idea. But he wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d had anything to eat, and he suspected that the dogs ate well enough so they wouldn’t even look at the scraps he could throw them.
    He crouched, holding the knife out as if it were a shield. Why hadn’t the dogs come forward?
    As if in answer, the Hunter Lord joined them, following the same trail that both Stephen and the dogs had left in their hurried race through the snow; he wasn’t even breathing heavily. His cap was gone now, although he didn’t appear to be carrying it. All he held in his hand was the horn that had sounded the chase. The dogs moved apart, and he came to stand between them, placing one hand on either of their heads. The bitch bridled at the feel of the hard, cold horn but stayed her ground anyway.
    Everywhere there was silence.
    Stephen met the eyes of the Hunter Lord; they were brown to his blue, and narrowed as if in thought. He waited, wordless, until the waiting itself was as fine a torture as the running had been.
    â€œDon’t—don’t you move!” He waved his dagger, swordlike, through the air in front of his face. “I’m telling you, stay where you are! I don’t want to hurt you!”
    â€œOh, indeed,” the Lord replied. “I can assure you, my boy, that you needn’t fear that. And I have no wish to harm you; you’ve led a fine chase. Better than I would have guessed. Come. Cease this nonsense. We have far to go.” The hand that wore the thick, cloth gauntlet rose. “Come.”
    Stephen backed into the door, shaking his head firmly from side to side. How stupid did this Hunter Lord think he was? “I ain’t going nowhere. Go away, or I’ll have to use this.” He waved the knife wildly, loosing a startled cry as the door gave way behind him.
    Before he could react, he was jerked off the ground by the back of his collar.His dagger went tumbling into the snow. He didn’t have to look back to know who held him.
    â€œWell, fine sir,” Marcus said, raising Stephen higher. “It seems that you’ve had trouble in our fair city streets.”
    â€œLet the boy go,” the Hunter Lord replied. “I have no business with you.”
    â€œDon’t you just?” Marcus looked down at Stephen, noted the creeping purple tinge to his skin, and slammed him to his feet. “Well, I’ve got your thief, at no small risk to myself. I think that’s worth something.” The convivial smile Marcus wore was so out of place on his face that the Hunter Lord couldn’t even manage a similar expression. Lip curling, he said, “Let the boy go.”
    â€œNot from around here, are you?”
    â€œNo.” The one word made clear what the Lord thought of that.
    â€œWell, maybe I’ll explain a few rules of the King’s City. This,” he shook Stephen, who was too stunned to struggle, “is a thief.”
    â€œI’m aware of