Oathbreaker: The Knight's Tale by Colin McComb Read Free Book Online Page A

kindness. Still and all, he was not a bad man. I liked him better than most in the court.
    “What a night, Glasyin, what a night!” he exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’ve been dancing all night with anyone who’d have me.”
    I forced a laugh. “But for my leg, I’d have joined you myself.”
    “What happened?” he asked.
    “A stupid accident,” I replied. “While I was cleaning my dress sword, I dropped it. My reflexes are slowing. It’s a good thing my mind remains as sharp as ever, because it appears that I can’t be trusted to carry my own blades.”
    He laughed with me, but I thought his laughter had a forced quality. Perhaps I was imagining it. He leaned back, stretching, and said, “Ah, but fighting in the wars personally is no longer your duty, is it?”
    “That task has fallen to more able citizens,” I replied curtly.
    “For the many battles you’ve fought, I suppose, it’s only just that you can now retire safely behind the lines.” He paused. “Of course, I have heard the news, and you have my condolences.”
    “My thanks.”
    “I know that the warriors of Ithan County felt safe with your steady hand guiding them in the wars. Many of the other counties’ men feel the same. You are a valuable resource to this land, Glasyin. In fact, I’d say that your leadership might be all that keeps the army in line right now. Who knows what might happen with Beremany in charge?”
    I turned my head to him again. He was gazing at me blandly, but I could practically hear his thoughts. I looked back at a few revelers staggering through the gardens. I turned my eyes out over the city stretched out beneath us, and said calmly, “I saw a puppet show in the city the other day.”
    He looked surprised, but said nothing. I continued, “I found it entertaining. All these marionettes, dancing on strings controlled by a woman hidden behind the façade. They danced and moved through their routines, through the play she’d written for them, and all the children were delighted with the show. They forgot that they were watching an artist at work and were transported by the story the puppets told. When it was over and the children left, the puppets lay on the stage, unmoving. I congratulated the puppeteer on a fine show.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not certain what you mean.”
    “Puppets are entertainment,” I replied, “tools. When their strings are being manipulated, they put on a hell of a show. When they’re not, they’re boring, lifeless, dead. It’s the puppeteer who’s full of life. It’s the puppeteer who’s the one the crowd should get to know.”
    “I don’t follow you.”
    “I’m ready to see the guiding hand behind this show,” I said. “No disrespect intended, my dear count, but I have had enough of the marionettes.”
    He had the good sense to pretend ignorance and rose apologetically. “Ah, General,” he said, “perhaps we have both had enough to drink. I wish you a good night, and hope to see you when we’re a little less… well…” He bowed and smiled.
    I grinned mirthlessly at him and offered no other words as he left. A good exit, I thought, and one that would cover for him should I decide to reveal the plot. I never considered the possibility that he might not be involved. Of course he was.
    I reclined on the bench, closing my eyes for a few brief minutes in the predawn darkness, and I heard the click of boot heels coming down the marble walk toward me. I cracked my eyes as the walker stopped in front of me. Duke Athedon (a favored scion of House Cronen), dressed casually as usual, disdaining the finery of the court even on a formal occasion. Athedon. Beremany was in his House. A cousin, if I recalled correctly.
    “Do you mind if I sit here, General Glasyin? I’d like a word or two with you.” His voice was low and even, with an undercurrent of warmth.
    “Regarding puppets?” I said. “Plots in the darkness and so forth?”
    “Actually,