Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) by Alex Barclay Read Free Book Online

Jerome.
    â€œNo,” said Oland. “I left of my own accord.”
    Jerome studied Oland’s face.
    â€œWhy has a crowd gathered next door?” said Oland. “Is that Malachy Graham’s house?”
    â€œYes, but that’s not for you to worry about,” said Jerome. “What brings you to Derrington?”
    Oland didn’t want to give too much away. “I am looking for someone to take me on a blind journey.”
    Jerome raised his eyebrows. “You?” he said.
    â€œI need to go somewhere,” said Oland, “and I need someone to take me there without question.”
    â€œAnd what, at such a young age, do you know of blind journeys?” said Jerome.
    â€œIn the castle dungeons, there are special cells for blind journeymen and their passengers…”
    â€œYet you are not deterred…” said Jerome.
    Oland shook his head. “Like those who have gone before me, captured or uncaptured, I have no choice.”
    â€œWhere do you want to go?” said Jerome.
    â€œDoes that mean you will take me?” said Oland.
    â€œI saw what happened in the arena,” said Jerome. “You defied and humiliated Villius Ren in front of the whole of Decresian. How he viewed you before, I don’t know, but today you became his enemy.” He paused. “I too am an enemy of Villius Ren’s. And, if you want to get to safety, I will help you.”
    Outside, a commotion erupted in the neighbouring yard. Someone knocked on the back door of the Rynishes’ house and pushed their way in. The draught caught the door opposite the parlour, and it swung open to reveal the Tailor Rynish scowling at the interruption. Oland noticed something he hadn’t seen through the window: a remnant of sheepskin hanging on a peg. The Tailor Rynish must have made the mad old miller’s sheepskin. Oland was now in a world where people helped the less fortunate. It felt shameful to have ever served men guided only by personal gain.
    The back door closed, and the Tailor Rynish walked into the parlour, his eyes shining with tears.
    â€œOur friend is dead, Jerome,” he said. “Malachy Graham is dead. His heart couldn’t sustain the shock.” His voice cracked.
    Jerome bowed his head. “His family will be ours now. Seven fine sons.”
    The tailor cleared his throat. “And I shall return to work,” he said, “making their father’s killer the finest, blackest clothing in the land…” He walked away and closed the door behind him.
    â€œThat was why a crowd had gathered next door,” said Jerome.
    â€œI think I passed his son, Daniel, in the laneway,” said Oland. “He must have been running for a doctor…”
    Jerome nodded. “Yes.”
    â€œThis is all my fault,” said Oland. “I… I was in charge of the animals at the arena. I knew that Villius Ren wanted them hungry, so I… I went to Malachy Graham’s stall. I asked him for extra cuts. I told him why, and he gave them to me, all this week—”
    â€œAnd he was happy to give them to you,” said Jerome.
    But Oland didn’t hear him, and continued. “Villius must have found out. Malachy Graham was called into the arena because of me. It’s my fault your friend is dead. I could see it in your brother’s eyes. I could see his disgust.”
    â€œYou saved Malachy Graham’s life,” said Jerome. “And whatever you saw in my brother’s eyes, it was not meant for you.”
    â€œIf I hadn’t asked Malachy for help,” said Oland, “Villius Ren would never have done what he did.”
    â€œExactly,” said Jerome. “Villius Ren did it. No one else. You are not to blame, Oland.”
    Oland stared into the empty hearth. It had no fuel stacked beside it, and the room was ice-cold. He was struck by the humiliating thought that he would never succeed on this quest without