Ghostwalker by Erik Scott de Bie Read Free Book Online Page B

to pay it no mind,” Greyt said again. “I’ll not have you chasing after a shadow or a dream, like all the other young fools in the Marches.”
    The youth shrugged. “As you say.” The look on his face, though, told Greyt that Meris was not so pleased.
    Let the boy fume for a while—it would teach him proper respect.
    At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Meris’s hand dropped to his sword hilt, but Greyt waved at him. “Enter,” he called.
    The Greyt family steward—a gaunt man by the name of Claudir—entered with a neutral expression on his face. Greyt was unsurprised and from his son’s scowl, he reasoned that Meris was wondering how he had known the knock would be Claudir.
    Greyt smiled.
    “Your niece, the Lady Knight Arya Venkyr of Everlund, begs an audience with your lordship,” the steward said. “With her are her two companions, Sirs Bars Hartwine and Derst Goldtook of the Knights in Silver. Shall I show them in, Lord Singer?”
    His niece? A knight? Greyt had not been in contact with Rom Venkyr of Everlund, his brother-in-law, for some time. Rom’s daughter?
    “A moment, please,” Greyt said. “I shall receive them in the sitting room.”
    Claudir offered a half-bow and left without a word.
    Meris and Greyt regarded one another, silently. The only sound was the half-elf Tillee’s sobs. Finally, the Lord Singer spoke.
    “Aught else?” Greyt prompted.
    Meris nodded and shrugged noncommittally.
    It was the only answer Greyt needed.
    The Lord Singer clapped his hands and turned back to Tillee. “Well, since you seem so insistent, it might well be truth. We’ll send you to the Oak House and set you before Amra Clearwater. Let her tell us if you speak true.” With a smile, he took the crimson blanket back. “I’m sure, since you sound so passionate and honest, you must be telling the truth. Besides, a good maid such as yourself would not lie, eh? Meris will take you there.”
    The ranger couldn’t hide his smirk.
    “Oh, thank you, Lord Singer!” the half-elf woman replied with a wide smile. She reached for his legs to embrace him. Despite his halfhearted effort to dodge, she caught him. She kissed his gold ring, the one with his family seal. “You really are a hero!”
    He put on a fake smile, rolled his eyes, and pulled his cape from her grasp. Then he started toward the door, rubbing at the gold wolf ring. On the way, he caught Meris by the arm and dipped his head toward his son’s ear. “Do you want her?” he asked.
    Meris’s nose wrinkled.
    Greyt smiled. He would have responded the same way.
    “Bilgren will be disappointed, but he’ll get over it,” Greyt said.
    Then, as he was leaving, he paused. “Oh, and see that you leave no stain,” he said. “I’ve just had the carpet re-laid. It is red, but still… It is also new.”
    Shrugging, Meris turned away. His sword scraped out of its sheath.
    As Greyt closed the doors behind him, he heard Tillee’s surprised gasp. Meris hadn’t allowed her to scream.

CHAPTER 4
    26 Tarsakh
     
    An Greyt’s waiting room, Arya was tapping her fingers on the oak table and chewing on the edge of her lip.
    It was a spacious room, with elegant windows and real glass. There were three lavish couches, upholstered with varying colors of fur and leather, ranging from the tanned flesh of caribou to what the steward Claudir claimed was tundra yeti. Arya’s nose always turned up at the thought of harvesting furs. Her distaste was not, however, shared by her two companions. On the middle couch, they lounged on feather pillows and shared laughs—Derst’s witty snickers and Bars’s rumbles—over something or other. Too nervous to join them, Arya lingered near the cold fireplace, running her fingers along the stems and petals of the flowers Greyt’s servants had collected for display.
    Winter lilies and frost roses stood in bright array among emerald stems and leaves, curled into bunches along a golden banister. The flowers might have been picked