Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) Read Free Page A

moment’s thought, and it found the familiar ale in front of him again as he tossed it back in one good drink. “My first temptation was to split your godsdamned head from your body. Then I realized that it probably wouldn’t do a bit of good.”
    “Forbearance never was one of your top qualities, dear boy,” came the slick, oily voice of the figure that stood before him. He wore a deep blue cloak with a cowl up, and in the dim light it looked almost black. His mouth was just visible, an underwhelming, bony chin peeking out from under the cowl.
    “Malpravus,” Terian said, setting his empty glass back on the small table, “what the hell do you want?”
    “I want what anyone wants,” Malpravus said, drawing a skeletal hand to his chest, letting it run over the exterior of his cloak. “Power, and all the trappings that come with it.”
    Terian let himself chortle, but it was a dry noise, free of any amusement. “Well, at least you’re honest about that much.”
    The necromancer’s eyes weren’t visible under the darkness of his cowl. “The way you say that would imply that I am dishonest about other things.”
    Terian didn’t flinch, even as the darkness under the cowl seemed to deepen as if by magic. “As you said, you want power. Might just be that power doesn’t come as easily to those who always speak the truth.”
    Malpravus’s skeletal grin widened. “You are such a rarity among your former brood. I do so enjoy my time among your brethren of Sanctuary, but their naïve honesty and virtuousness leaves me a bit tired. It is as though the realities of life have never settled hard upon their bones, and they remain comfortably cocooned in that guildhall of yours, ensconced from the harshness of outside forces.” He gestured toward the chair opposite Terian. “Do you have a few moments to parlay? To discuss possibilities?”
    Terian paused before answering, but only briefly. “Well, I’m supposed to be catching a ride with a guy who runs a corpse cart here in another hour or so.” He picked up the glass and stared forlornly at the last hints of foam at the bottom of it. “It won’t kill me to listen to you until then, though I warn you—if you begin to annoy me, I’m going to drink faster, so I can get to passing out more quickly.”
    Malpravus seemed to ponder this for a moment while Terian stared at him. “Quite a state you’ve worked yourself into. If the voices I hear are to be believed, you’ve taken work with a mercenary company, watching warehouses during the day to keep marauders, the impoverished and street urchins at bay? And at night you rotate between this … place,” Malpravus gestured to the dingy interior of the Brutal Hole with a skeletal hand, “and another establishment not far from here, rather less prestigious—if such a thing is possible.”
    Terian let his tongue run over his front teeth and felt the glaze over them from the meals of the day. The aftertaste of the ale was still strong on his palate. “I do what I have to for money so I can do what I want to in my off hours. It’s called working for a living.” He sat forward. “You’re probably not familiar with the concept.”
    “It’s … sliding by on the minimums,” Malpravus said, with an air of distaste. “Shooing orphans away in the cold because they’re in front of a warehouse you’re guarding is hardly work befitting a dark knight of your station and power, dear boy.” He stiffened and smiled slightly. “Perhaps I might offer you … a path.”
    Terian’s eyes fell to his empty glass, regarding it with a thought as Malpravus’s words echoed in his head. It doesn’t usually stay empty this long …
    As if in response to his thought, there was a grunt followed by a cry from the bar, and Terian’s head wheeled to see Rosalla trapped, a wide longshoreman gripping her tightly from behind and lifting her off the ground. Her feet dangled just beneath her.
    “The Silken Robe …” Rosalla said,