Lost Covenant: A Widdershins Adventure by Ari Marmell Read Free Book Online Page A

fingers molded it into. “I know you're good. I know Olgun makes you better.”
    She sniffed, but didn't interrupt.
    “But you don't know Lourveaux. He does. And he's pretty good at this, too. He'll spot you.”
    “Doubt it. But if so…” She tried to shrug, a gesture that did little more than make the chair quiver. “I'll just ask him directly.”
    “You have no idea the damage you could do!” Maurice all but whined.
    “Not a clue,” she acknowledged, voice chipper. “Gods know what I'll be interfering with.” Then, in response to an unspoken comment, “What? Um, no. Do you know? Well, then I didn't mean all gods, did I?”
    And back to her less-intangible conversation partner: “Stop looking at me like I'm crazy.”
    “Why, is it supposed to be a secret?”
    Widdershins was too busy waiting for Olgun's guffaws to stop filling her head to actually respond to Maurice.
    By the time her thoughts cleared and she regained the presence of mind to glare, Maurice had clearly come to a decision.
    “I won't tell you his name,” he said firmly. “But he's…Um…”
    “Not the most informative thing you've told me, that.”
    “He's a…purveyor, and former acquirer, of…exotic wares.”
    “He's an ex-thief and smuggler, and now a fence,” she translated.
    Maurice could offer only a grin more watery than the ale. “Well, yes.”
    Widdershins threw her hands up, very nearly knocking her chair, and herself, entirely over backward. “Why didn't you just say so? It's not like you're going to offend my sensibilities….” She trailed to a halt, slowly cocking her head to one side. “And since my brain's finally caught up with my mouth, you shouldn't even know anyone like that! Why doesn't he offend your sensibilities?”
    “Who says he doesn't?”
    Whatever comment she was about to make was brought up shortby the thread of bitterness suddenly winding its way through the monk's voice. She merely nodded instead, not so much urging as allowing him to continue.
    Apparently done fidgeting with the food, Maurice was now absently turning and sliding the bowl in which it lived. “The Church has…lost a lot over the centuries. Texts. Holy relics. Art.” Twist, slide. Slide, twist. “Sometimes pieces can't be located—or, once located, retrieved—by, um, entirely legitimate means.” Twist, slide. “So, the guard looks the other way regarding this man's illegal activities, so long as he keeps them subtle and bloodless, and in return, on occasion…” Slide, twist .
    “He provides stolen goods for you.” Widdershins hadn't thought she had a high enough opinion of the Church to be disappointed any further. Something about the sheer mundaneness of this all, however, made it worse.
    “ Recovered goods,” Maurice corrected her, but it was a halfhearted protest at best. Twist. Slide.
    “Uh-huh. Typical. Just…typical. And how do you know all this?”
    For the first time—not merely in this conversation, but any and all of those she'd had with him—the monk's features went stiff, his eyes hard.
    “There aren't many saints in this world, Widdershins. Even good men sometimes have to get their hands a little dirty. Or at least their assistant's hands.”
    It was Olgun—wasn't it always Olgun, these days?—who kept her from lunging from the chair, hauling off, and smacking the man across from her. The god's spiritual whispers, downy and soothing, damped down her anger enough that it passed before she did something idiotic, rather than after.
    How dare he?! How dare he talk about William that way?
    Except…Maurice had known the archbishop closely, served him for years. Shins had known the man for an evening.
    Might be a bit of a pedestal I've put him on, yes?
    Whether she'd spoken to Olgun or merely thought it, she wasn't certain, and ultimately it didn't matter. Before the little deity could respond, assuming he'd heard her at all, the guest whom they'd awaited finally deigned to arrive.
    He wore the sort of finery