A Clash of Honor by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

Ring, to exploit every sort of dark festivity known to man. The place was the opposite of who he was. He never gambled, and rarely drank, and preferred to spend his free time alone, training, sharpening his skills. He could not understand the types of people who embraced sloth and revelry, the way the frequenters of Baluster did. It did not bode well, his being brought there. Nothing good could come of it. The very thought of her in such a place made his heart sink. He knew he had to rescue her quickly, and get her far from here, before any damage was done.
    As the moon fell in the sky, as the road grew wider, more well-traveled, Erec caught his first glimpse of the city: the endless number of torches lighting its walls made the city appear like a bonfire in the night. Erec was not surprised: its inhabitants were rumored to stay up all hours of the night.
    Erec rode harder and the city neared, and finally he rode over a small wooden bridge, torches on either side, a sleepy sentry nodding off at its base, who jumped up as Erec stormed past. The guard called out after him: “HEY!”
    But Erec didn’t even slow. If the man mustered up the confidence to chase after Erec—which   Erec doubted very much—then Erec would make sure it was the last thing he did.
    Erec charged through the large, open entranceway to this city which was laid out in a square, surrounded by low, ancient stone walls. As he entered, he charged down the narrow streets, so bright, all lined with torches. The buildings were built close together, giving the city a narrow, claustrophobic feeling. The streets were absolutely mobbed with people, and nearly all of them seemed drunk, stumbling to and fro, screaming loudly, jostling each other. It was like a huge party. And every other establishment was a tavern or gambling den.
    Erec knew this was the right place. He could sense Alistair here, somewhere. He swallowed hard, hoping it was not too late.
    He rode up to what appeared to be a particularly large tavern in the center of the city, throngs of people milling outside, and figured it would be a good place to start.
    Erec dismounted and hurried inside, elbowing his way past the people rowdy with drink, and making his way up to the innkeeper, who stood in the back, in the center of the room, writing down people’s names as he took their coins and directed them to rooms. He was a slimy looking fellow, wearing a fake smile, sweating, and he rubbed his hands together as he counted their coins. He looked up at Erec, a plastic smile on his face.
    “A room, sir?” he asked. “Or is it women you want?”
    Erec shook his head and came in close to the man, wanting to be heard above the din.
    “I’m looking for a trader,” Erec said. “A slave trader. He rode this way from Savaria, but a day or so ago. He brought precious cargo. Human cargo.”
    The man licked his lips.
    “What you seek is valuable information,” the man said. “I can provide that, just as easily as I can provide a room.”
    The man reached forward and rubbed his fingers together, and held out a palm. He looked up at Erec and smiled, sweat forming on his upper lip.
    Erec was disgusted by this man, but he wanted information, and didn’t want to waste time, so he reached into his pouch and put a large gold coin in the man’s hand.
    The man’s eyes opened wide as he examined it.
    “King’s gold,” he observed, impressed.
    He looked Erec up and down with a look of respect, and of wonder.
    “Have you ridden all the way from King’s Court, then?” he asked.
    “Enough,” Erec said. “I’m the one asking questions. I have paid you. Now tell me: where is the trader?”
    The man licked his lips several times, then leaned in close.
    “The man you seek is Erbot. He comes through once a week with a new batch of whores. He auctions them off to the highest bidder. You’ll likely find him in his den. Follow this street to the end, and his establishment lies there. But if the girl you seek is of