Brayan's Gold by Peter V. Brett Read Free Book Online Page B

necessities of life. Shelves behind the counter were filled with various tools and implements on sale, and chalked slates listed prices for food, livestock, and specialty items.
    The room was crowded with women, many with children at their skirts as they called to the women taking orders and coin at the counter, who then called stocking instruction to more of Baron Talor’s burly guards.
    After the silence of the road, the din was overwhelming, but the baron quickly led the way through to the taproom in back and a quiet alcove with a richly appointed table. The bartender immediately brought them coffee.
    Arlen blew on his steaming cup and sipped, the warmth beginning to seep back into his bones. The baron gave him time to take his ease until two women approached the table, one young, and another much older. Their dresses were plainer than Royal ladies favored in Fort Miln, but the fine cut and cloth still marked them.
    Arlen stood politely as the baron kissed the women and turned to make introductions. “Messenger Arlen Bales, may I present my wife, Lady Delia Talor, and my daughter, Stasy.”
    Arlen noted the lack of the title “Mother” before the baroness’ name, but he made no comment, bowing and kissing hands just as Cob had taught him.
    The baroness was in her late fifties and no beauty, with a pinched face and a long neck, making her seem like a fishing bird. Stasy Talor, however, was all that Derek had claimed.
    She was of an age with Arlen, with dark hair and blue eyes, tall and lithe in the Milnese way. She was pretty of face, but Arlen thought it was the sad cast to her eyes that made her truly beautiful. The lacings of her bodice were undone, as if the dress no longer fit well.
    Reckon she must’ve bled by now , Derek had said, but suddenly Arlen wasn’t so sure. He had to force his eyes up to meet hers before he was caught staring.
    They all sat, and the baron and baroness leaned in close as they broke the seal and read Count Brayan’s private letter. They began whispering harshly to one another and glancing at Stasy, but Arlen affected not to notice. He turned to the girl, hoping to engage her in conversation, but the baron’s daughter did not acknowledge him, watching the discussion with her sad eyes.
    Finally, the baron grunted and turned back to Arlen. “We’ll soon be sending a caravan to Miln, so you can leave the cart here and head back with your horse alone. There will only be a handful of letters for your return.”
    Arlen nodded, and soon after a rich lunch was served. The baron and his wife kept up a constant flow of questions, asking for news from Miln, and Arlen dutifully recited every going on of note in the great city, along with whatever gossip he had overheard around the Messengers’ Guildhouse. It was the gossip the Royals in exile seemed to covet most of all. Stasy took no part in the conversation, her eyes on her lap.
    At last, a guard came over to the table with a chalked slate and the manifest. “There’s a thunderstick missing.” He eyed Arlen suspiciously.
    “Nonsense,” Talor said. “Count them again.”
    “Counted twice,” the guard said.
    The baron scowled, and his eyes flicked to Arlen for just an instant. His smile was forced. “Count a third time,” he told the guard.
    Arlen cleared his throat. “No, he’s right. The missing stick’s in front, tucked under the seat. I used it to scare my way past the bandits.” He tried to tell himself he had forgotten the stick was there, but he knew deep down that he had left it there on purpose, hoping that perhaps no one would notice it was missing from the crate.
    Everyone looked at him in shock. Even Stasy’s eyes came up. Arlen quickly explained his encounter with the bandits, though he made no mention of Sandar.
    Still, Baron Talor’s mouth fell open with the telling. “You bluffed your way through by waving a thunderstick?”
    Arlen smiled. “Never said I was bluffing.”
    Talor barked a laugh, and shook his