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

that ensured he stood out in a dive like this one without standing out at all. That is, fancier than everyone else here, but not so bright, so rich, so colorful that he appeared to come from a different world. Just a member of the downtrodden who happened to make it good. The gazes that followed him were envious, the mutters of those who stepped aside for him just a tiny bit annoyed, but none crossed the unseen border into “hostile.”
    Otherwise, unremarkable. Taller than average, perhaps. Hair, beard, eyes, all of darker shades largely undefinable in the dimness of the common room.
    He reminded her, she realized, a little of Renard, her friend and former mentor back in Davillon. If, that is, Renard were about a third taller and at least a third less flamboyant.
    “If I'd known you were bringing a companion,” he began, “I'd have recommended a slightly higher-class establishment.” Had his voice been any more carefully and deliberately cultured, it would have thickened into yogurt. Still, there was something behind it, beneath it, a flinty tone that Widdershins recognized from her own life on the streets. Though she kept her expression neutral, even bland, her attention had drifted subtly toward his blade; even Olgun's not-quite-murmurs in her head sounded abruptly mistrustful.
    “Are there any higher-class establishments that'll let you in?” Maurice snipped.
    The man's only response was a soft chuckle. “And you, my dear?” He offered Widdershins a shallow bow. “What do I call you? Besides lovely?”
    Shins suddenly felt like she needed a bath. Shins suddenly feltlike Olgun needed a bath. “Madeleine,” she said stiffly. “And just Madeleine. Not dear. Not lovely.”
    “You wound me.”
    “Oh, no. Trust me. When that happens, you'll know it.”
    The newcomer drew himself up, his smile slipping for the first time. “Were you both planning to be this rude for our entire meeting?”
    “No plan,” she told him. “It just seems to come quite by instinct.” A pause, then, “Or, at least, I didn't plan to be rude. Maurice, did you plan to be rude?”
    “Umm…No?”
    “There, see?” Shins waved a hand dismissively. “Maurice didn't plan to be rude, either. You must just bring it out of people, yes?”
    Two sets of jaws worked soundlessly as two men gawped at the young woman beside them. Until, finally, the stranger chuckled again and pulled up a seat. “I could get to like you,” he admitted to her.
    “Oh, I could never ask you to trouble yourself.”
    Another chuckle, a faint sniff at a nearby ale followed by an upturned lip, and Maurice's contact was abruptly all business. “So…What does our beloved Church of the Hallowed Pact require of me now?”
    A lifetime of deception allowed Widdershins to keep any trace of expression off her face, but internally, her startled gasp was as genuine as the one she felt from her divine companion.
    It made sense, certainly. This man wasn't likely to have gone out of his way to do a lone monk a favor; if Maurice had implied that this meeting was Church business, well, that was just the smart way to go about it.
    She just wouldn't have expected William's old assistant to even think of something like that, much less be willing to act on it. Perhaps the archbishop wasn't the only one about whom she was more ignorant than she thought.
    “…be required,” Maurice was telling their guest when she focused once more on the discussion. “Today, all we really need is someone with an ear to the goings-on of Lourveaux. The, um, less overt, less legitimate goings-on.”
    “Crimes, schemes, conspiracies, intrigue,” Widdershins clarified jauntily. “You know, the stuff the Church has to pretend it's not involved in.”
    If looks could kill, Maurice's would have…well, been a moderately severe flesh wound, at worst. Coming from him , however, that was vicious enough.
    Their guest raised an imaginary goblet in toast to Shins's comment, lips bent in a crooked and oddly