Dragon Blood-Hurog 2 by Patricia Briggs Read Free Book Online Page A

couldn't speak and communicated by expression. Figure it out yourself , Tisala's folded arms and superior expression said. What makes Tisala unusual enough that Alizon's cause would pull her to Estian? I wondered. I smiled at last, getting it. "A man, even a man of high rank, whose support of Alizon became common knowledge would be taken in for treason."
    She smiled back, but didn't say anything.
    "But a highborn woman would be safe because of Tallvenish custom—at least you should have been. They would need a single woman—otherwise her husband would be expected to stop her. But to what purpose … " I stared at her and she stared back blandly.
    This woman , something whispered deep inside my heart, this woman is for me. The bruises on her face were yellow and green. She was too thin, making her nose stand out even more. She wore one of my oldest robes and one of the pieces of chicken we'd eaten at lunch had left a greasy spot on the material over her arm. And none of it mattered at all.
    "Perhaps," I speculated, hoping she hadn't read what I was thinking in my face. "Perhaps there is a nobleman who would like to see Jakoven fall. Maybe this nobleman has money to support Alizon, perhaps it is information, or even just a message. Perhaps he wants to be completely anonymous. If there
    were someone who could be trusted to pass things on, an anonymous servant or even a street child could
    be sent to this supporter of Alizon—if people knew who he—or rather she was." She raised her eyebrows. "Truly you have an active imagination, Ward."
    "Accurate, too," I said. "How did you contact Alizon?" She opened her mouth, then shut it. When she spoke, she said, "I'm not a fish to rise to your bait. Suffice
    it to say that your casting is in the right area and we'll leave it at that." But it wasn't so easy to leave the information I'd gotten from Tisala alone. Jakoven was moving against Beckram, my cousin—my responsibility. The king's gambit with Tisala had failed, but he had many other
    arrows in his quiver.
    Over the next few weeks as the first snows left the mountains white and frosted the air, I pondered Jakoven's next move. But the only thing I settled upon was that it would be disastrous to wait for Jakoven to play his own game. I'd have to make a move of my own.
    "I'm going to Estian," I said over supper.
    The guardsmen ate in their quarters, but there was enough tile done in the great hall that my family took
    our meals there, my family and our guest. Tisala had been mobile enough to take the stairs for the last week, so she'd begun to join us for meals. We sat close to the great fireplace that tried to make up for Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html the open doorway, where soon the great doors would hang. The armorer's first attempt at hinges had been beautiful, but not strong enough to hold the doors, so he was trying again.
    "Estian? You are mad," said Oreg with conviction, though not disapproval—more as if he were delighted
    with the discovery. He'd finished eating and was settled back watching the rest of us. I grinned at him.
    My aunt Stala, seated next to him, shook her head—but I think it was at Oreg and not at me. She was my captain of the guards and my mother's baseborn sister, a Tallvenish woman who'd taken her destiny in her own hands and shook the world. She bore the scars of those battles gracefully and there was not a
    man in the Blue Guard who would not die willingly for her, including me.
    "You forced me to stay here," said my brother, "by following me to the capital every time I tried to go, threatening to expose yourself to the possibility that he would decide to enforce his own writ and have you caged in his zoo for unwanted nobles—"
    Tosten had been intent on supporting Alizon—something I'd determined was both dangerous and useless. But Tosten was still young and hotheaded; he'd been very close to both of the twins, and Erdrick's death had hit him