Shadow’s Lure by Jon Sprunk Read Free Book Online

caught sight of Caim and shouted to his fellows, who all turned to watch him. Caim pulled his hood down and continued on his way. His chest constricted as old fears returned, brought on by long periods of solitude. He didn’t spot the slanted roof ahead on the road until he was almost upon it.
    This was obviously the bunkhouse Kit had seen. It sat alongside the road. A split-rail fence enclosed a yard and two small outbuildings behind the main house. A thin ribbon of smoke rose from the single brick chimney. Caim adjusted the strap of his satchel and checked his knives.
    There was no gate in front, so he followed the uneven path of stones up to the main house and pushed open the weather-beaten door. The dim interior swallowed the daylight as he stepped across the threshold. The smoky air stung Caim’s eyes. The front room took up most of the ground floor. Its walls were bare timber joined with wattle. Two scarred wooden pillars supported the low roof. There were no windows, and no bar either, just a doorway covered by a sheet of dingy canvas leading to a back room, possibly the kitchen. Two long trestle tables occupied much of the floor. Five men sat around the first, smoking from clay pipes and drinking. By their simple clothing and muddy boots, he took them for farmers or ranch hands.
    Three men occupied the second table. Two could have been brothers. Both were large and rawboned, though one had long blond hair, and the other black as pitch. The man sitting across from them was a head shorter. A sharp chin protruded from the confines of his hood, which he kept pulled down. All three wore buckskin instead of wool and carried weapons of a sort. Boar spears leaned against the table beside the larger men; their companion had something hidden under his cloak, maybe a sword or a truncheon. The two larger men looked up with dark, sunken eyes as Caim entered, and just as quick went back to their business.
    The canvas sheet was shoved aside, and a man emerged from the back. By the wooden mugs in his hands, he was the proprietor. He had a sagging chin and a dark port-wine stain down the side of his neck. His eyes were deep-set with many folds underneath, but in their depths lay a kernel of toughness, the same as his customers, as though they were all chipped from the same quarry.
    When he’d served the drinks, the owner regarded Caim with a sour expression. Caim stood as straight as he could manage and tried not to advertise his injuries. His face itched all of a sudden, but he kept his hands by his sides.
    “You the innkeep?” Caim asked.
    The man wiped his hands on his shirt, which was covered in grease spots. He glanced at Caim’s torn ear and said, “What do you want?”
    “A hot meal and a room for the night if there’s one to be had.”
    “We’ve no boarding.” The owner waved a hand at a seat at the end of the table nearest the meager fireplace. “But I’ll bring you something to eat.”
    Caim crossed the room and leaned his bundles against the wall. The heat from the fireplace lapped against his back as he sat down. He closed his eyes, imagining the warmth creeping into the marrow of his bones. By his best reckoning, he was roughly twenty leagues north of the Nimean border. If he had succeeded in following a northerly track, and if his injuries allowed him to maintain the pace, that would put him in Liovard, Eregoth’s largest town, in a few days.
    The three men sitting together seemed to be arguing, but Caim couldn’t hear their words. Then the larger two stood up. Taking up the spears, they went out the door and left the smaller man alone with a trio of cups. Caim leaned back and closed his eyes, minding his own business. The last thing he wanted was trouble.
    The sound of shoes scraping over the floorboards dragged his eyelids open. A woman had come out of the back room to bring him a flattened bread plate covered with brown stew and a wooden mug. She didn’t meet his eyes, but that didn’t surprise him;