A Magic Broken by Vox Day Read Free Book Online Page A

facing two or twenty armed men didn’t help to settle his stomach. He found himself wishing he’d dared risk bringing a decent mail shirt here to Malkan. But the driver was clearly skilled, and as Nicolas reminded himself every time they lurched around a corner, the man had surely made this drive at night a hundred times before. He glanced over at Quadras Aetias. The banker looked concerned but didn’t appear to be the least bit alarmed by the reckless speed at which they were travelling.
    Finally, they arrived at The Golden Rose, well-lit with several blazing torches mounted on stakes outside. Nicolas followed a guard out the door of the carriage with his hand upon his sword hilt. He found himself in the middle of an excited group of about fifteen women milling about and talking, most of them less than fully dressed. It was a situation that would have been more enjoyable were it not for the blood that marred the face of one pretty brunette and the large man lying with his arms outstretched upon the marble steps of the grand mansion that Aetias had converted into his exclusive brothel.
    Nicolas pushed his way through the crowd of women to reach the injured brunette. She was crying, but her nose didn’t appear to be broken even though blood was still flowing from it.
    “Who struck you?” he demanded. “How many were there?”
    The dark-haired whore’s eyes widened in alarm at his brusque approach, but after a moment’s hesitation, she answered. “A short man. He was strong, very strong. And short. He had a beard. At first, I thought he was a dwarf, but then I thought maybe he was only hunched over. He hit me in the face. He didn’t even say anything, he just hit me. It hurts!”
    “Was he alone? Where was he going? Was he armed? Did he wear armor?”
    “I didn’t see anyone else. He was coming up the stairs, and I was on the landing of the first floor. He knocked me down, and I fell down the stairs. I think the fall must have knocked me out for a little while. When I woke up, I ran outside. He had something in his hand, but it wasn’t a sword. I didn’t see it clearly. I know he wasn’t wearing any armor, though.”
    “And he was alone?”
    “He was the only one I saw.”
    “What about the dead man, there?” Nicolas pointed to the man, under whom a pool of blood was slowly expanding. “What happened to him?”
    “I don’t know. That’s Jordiss, one of the guards. I saw two of the women dragging him out here, but I think he was already dead. There was blood all over his face.”
    Nicolas looked more closely at the steps. He could see a dark, wet trail that marked the path of the man. He frowned, then walked over to the body, bent down, and grunted as he rolled the dead weight of the man over. The wound to the face was deep, like a sword thrust, but the left cheekbone was crushed as if struck by a club or a hammer. Probably not dwarves, then, the fatal wound was too small. A dwarven battleaxe would have cleaved the poor guard’s unarmored skull in two.
    “Follow me,” Nicolas ordered the guards accompanying him, but he came to a halt as he saw Aetias had also stepped down from the coach and was talking to an older woman. “My lord, get back in the coach!” he ordered. “Go now! The attackers may still be inside.”
    “One moment, Captain,” Aetias held up a finger and continued his conversation for a moment, then turned from the woman to approach him. “Bettavia says she saw the men who killed the guard at the bottom of the stairs. There were three of them. Only she says they weren’t men—they were dwarves.”
    “Are you holding any dwarves here?” Nicolas wasn’t easily shocked, but at times the sheer depravity of these Malkanians bid fair to accomplish it. It was not easy to keep the contempt off his face.
    “No, not a one,” answered Aetias. “I have seen more than a few with unusual tastes pass through over the years, but none with an appetite for any such absurdities. I don’t own