By Divine Right by Patrick W. Carr Read Free Book Online Page B

head. “Not in words, but when we were fighting, I moved to attack from his left. He smiled.” I nudged the dead man with my boot. “Now why would somebody left-handed try to hide it?”
    It took Custos a moment to arrive at the same conclusion I had, but he got there just the same. “Family trait?” His eyes widened. “Orlan.”
    I nodded as I shifted to stand. The second most powerful family in Collum had a preponderance of left-handed men in the line, a fact they’d used to their advantage in the clan wars in centuries long past. The spiral stairways in their keeps wound the opposite way from all the others, giving their defenders more room to maneuver.
    I knew the history of Collum well enough to know it had been the Orlan family that had lost the gift of kings to Laidir’s ancestor, but why would a family that already owned a pure gift of craft take the risk of stealing something they already had?
    The thought of pursuing an investigation into the Orlan family—to say nothing about the fact that I, a commoner, had just killed one of them—added several layers to my exhaustion. I could have slept for a week, but I clawed my way to a standing position and dragged the dead man into the shadows so no one would stumble upon it. “Let’s go inside. Braben is a friend. I’m sure he has a cellar where we can search the body.”

Chapter 6

    The clothes of the dead acolyte revealed nothing to confirm my suspicions, and I promised Braben three silvers I didn’t have to hide the body and Custos for a few days. There weren’t many of the gifted in the lower merchants’ section, but Braben had decided long ago that he preferred the company of more ordinary people. He could have run a tavern two or three times the size in the upper merchants’ portion of the city and amassed a fortune, but in addition to a partial gift of helps, Braben possessed a love for simple things and plain-spoken people. Thankfully, that included me.
    In his tavern the fire was lit, the food was good, and his family surrounded their patrons with tales and laughter. Walking into his inn for most of his customers was like walking into a second home. For me it was like walking into my first.
    I put the thought aside, holding my hopeful return to Braben’s in the near future as a reward for exposing the plot against Laidir. The sun touched the tops of the peaks to the west as I trudged my way uphill back to the king’s tor. My shift had officially ended two hours ago. Most of my acquaintances within the city watch would be drifting toward mugs of ale and games of bones.
    The nobles, along with the gifted brought to entertain them, would gather in Laidir’s court to eat and dance. Every member of the Orlan family present within the city would be there. I needed to find the man or woman who thought to make themselves ruler. Ealdor, bless him and his rundown church, had hinted at the means to do just that.
    The guardroom at the base of the tor had already emptied of everyone except the prison shift for that evening and Jeb. Even standing alone, he clothed himself with the threat of violence like a cloak against the cold, though he seldom used it. The threat was more than enough.
    When he saw me he laughed with the closest approximation to humor he possessed. “By my hope of heaven, Dura, you look awful.”
    I’d been too busy appreciating my survival to take note of my appearance. Ordinarily, I would have joined in the jest, but somethingin my face or demeanor must have warned him, because I saw him clench and unclench his fists.
    “I don’t like that look, Dura,” he growled at me. “It says you’ve got a problem and you feel like you need to share it. I don’t think I’m going to enjoy hearing how you got messed up as much as I thought at first.” The rumble in his throat deepened. “Go away.”
    I shook my head. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said. I hoped he could sense the genuine sentiment behind that. Even at the onset of the night