Blood Lance by Jeri Westerson Read Free Book Online

Jack.”
    “What? Me?”
    Out of the side of his mouth Crispin said, “You’re the apprentice Tracker. Go ahead and track.”
    “God blind me,” Jack murmured before turning a stern expression toward the far too jubilant sheriffs. “Right this way, my lords,” he said solemnly. “If you will follow.”
    They dismounted and tied their horses to posts before gleefully following the lad into the shop.
    “Bloodthirsty devils,” Crispin muttered. He took Anabel’s arm and hastily pulled her away. She made only a small noise in protest as he held fast and pulled her under the shadow of an eave. The shop had not yet opened and he pushed her against the shuttered window. “And now. I would speak plainly with you. If you would have me find your betrothed’s killer and discover who stole your money then I ask you, Is there something you are not telling me?”
    She turned her face away but Crispin tightened his grip. It must have been painful, for she winced, but would not face him.
    “Damosel, I know you are lying to me. About what, I am uncertain. And why.”
    She bit her lower lip, causing its already rosy color to blush to red. Her wide eyes fastened on him, searching his face. There were no tears there. Only questions. Her beauty gave him pause. She was like a stone statue, skin so smooth and white. It was far too distracting. Her eyes seemed to look deeper into his, sensing his interest. “I … have nothing to tell you,” she said at last, and finally cast those eyes downward.
    With a frown he released her arm. Though he knew she wanted to, she did not rub the soreness. “Very well. I can’t force you. Much as I want to.” He stepped away from her and walked in a circle before coming to a stop. “But I warn you, if either Master Tucker or I are in danger because of your reticence, there will be hell to pay.”
    She raised her chin in answer. He gave up. He took the rag from his belt and blew his runny nose and coughed up a ball of phlegm, spitting it into the street. In the old days he could take to his bed with servants attending him with hot broth and warmed wine. Not now. Oh how he wished he could.
    They returned to the armorer’s in time to greet the sheriffs coming out the door. They seemed impressed by Jack’s demonstration. “Well?” said Crispin without preamble. “Are you convinced?”
    “Your boy here is very precise. You have taught him well, Master Guest.”
    Jack’s face was almost as red as his hair.
    “That wasn’t the question, my lord. Have we convinced you that murders have been committed?”
    Sheriff More pinched his lip with long fingers. If they conceded the point then they would have to go to the coroner’s jury to plead the case, and it only meant more work for all of them. But there might be fines to exact where there were none before, and he knew that this was also going through their greedy little minds.
    Sheriff Staundon put his arm over Sheriff More’s shoulder. “I believe there is more to think about, certainly.” Diplomatic. They were going that route to hedge their bets. He couldn’t blame them. “In the meantime…” The sheriff adjusted his coat and then his bejeweled sword hilt. “I think we should talk to the families of these apprentices. What do you plan to do now, Master Guest?”
    Both sets of excited eyes were on him. For the love of … “I plan to go back to my bed and mend this illness. My lords.”
    They were disappointed, damn them. He wanted nothing more than to thwart their voracious curiosity that was mostly in the way. He stood fast, doing nothing but glare at them. Finally they got the hint. He told them that Anabel could direct them to the family of the missing apprentices, and they listened to her explain it. Finally, untying their horses, they mounted and turned the beasts away. “We will do our best with the coroner, Master Guest,” said More over his shoulder. Crispin knew those were empty words. He doubted they intended to do much.