In Service Of The King (Book 2) by Steven Styles Read Free Book Online

sword-tip close to Joseph’s back. They led Joseph past the cells, through an iron gate and down a short passage with one window, high up on the wall; passing under the window, Joseph saw it was open.
    “I get to plead my case with the Magistrate!” he yelled out, surprising the guards. “You cannot sentence me without a trial! Mercy! Do not take me to the caves! I am a citizen of the Kingdom!”
    Amidst these cries Chamberlain strove to strike Joseph, attempting to silence him. Finally, a guard managed to smite the prisoner with the back of his hand.
    “Don’t say another word, peasant!” Chamberlain hissed. “We can carry you down there, if we must.” He pushed Joseph into the last empty cell; it possessed nothing but a wide wooden box along one wall, for sleeping. Chamberlain walked to the simple bed and lifted the top of it, like the lid of a coffin. To Joseph’s wonder, the head of Hoggen’s Magistrate guards climbed into the box and began descending down some hidden stair, going underground. Joseph felt the prodding of a dagger at his back. He followed.
    Cut right out of rock, the narrow stairs looked black and steep. No torches burned here. Feeling his way with his foot, Joseph felt the dagger cut into his back, slightly and moved forward more quickly.
    Crouching outside the tiny window of the jail house, a short, cloaked figure stood and crept quietly away from wall into the night. Still in view of the keep, the man joined two others in the adjacent alley.
    “I heard the lad saying he wanted a trial, and not to send him to the caves,” Dunner told the others, hurriedly. “I say we go in and get him!” He lifted his curved sword a little ways out of its scabbard. A cart rattled over paving stones near the keep entrance; the sound made the three watchers hush their speech. The cart stopped at the keep door; two men came out, holding a third man between them; the two threw the third form unceremoniously in the back of the cart.
    “Did you see whom they had?” Tyrus asked, taking a step toward the street.
    “I could not tell if it was Joseph,” Hezekiah answered,
    “Maybe they are taking him to these caves, wherever they are,” Dunner put in. “I say we inspect that cart.”
    “I agree with Dunner,” Tyrus said, turning toward the others. “Quickly!”
    The Shamar ran to the keep courtyard, just as the cart began to drive away.
     
     
    DESCENDING THE dark steps in front of him, Joseph’s arms scraped the narrow passage walls on both sides.
    Briefly, he thought of throwing himself back and knocking a few of his attackers down, but the guard behind him kept the dagger at his back constantly. Several minutes of silent, downward travel passed before a faint glimmer of light could be seen, far below. A strong smell of burning spice drifted up into Joseph’s face and the air grew warmer the further they descended.
    The silent procession emerged into a small room. Blinking in the light, Joseph looked around for his bearings. They had made no turns; he guessed they were a hundred feet below the town, going back into the mountain. The room in which they stood was hewn from the rock. A fireplace had been cut out as well, with a shaft to let out the smoke. Torches lined the walls, fashioned with to burn some sort of strong incense; the powerful smell stung Joseph’s nostrils, making his eyes water. In the center of the far chamber wall stood a wooden table, behind which sat a fat guard. Above the man’s grizzled beard, dull eyes regarded Joseph with a rheumy gaze. A wooden trunk, an ale barrel and a sleeping cot completed the room’s contents.
    Chamberlain spoke first.
    “We brought a strong one,” he said. The guard looked up at Joseph from the table.
    “Off with his vest and shirt,” he guard said; his voice carried no inflection at all. “He’ll not need them again. Does he have a knife?”
    “None. He’s just a peasant.”
    “Aren’t they all,” the guard at the table said,opening a