Shadow’s Lure by Jon Sprunk Read Free Book Online Page A

he knew he looked bad, and probably smelled worse. When she started to turn away, he cleared his throat. She hesitated, but gave no other indication she’d heard.
    “I’m heading to Liovard. Can you tell me how far it is?”
    The woman shrugged. She was about the same age as the innkeeper, with the same tired features of someone who had been driven hard on the wheel of life.
    “Orso!” she yelled over her shoulder. “How far to the city?”
    The innkeeper looked over from the table of farmers with a scowl. “Two. Maybe three days on foot.”
    Caim nodded to the woman. “I’m trying to find a place.” He dredged the name from the dreams of his earliest years. He wasn’t even sure it was right. “Morrowglen.”
    “Soja!”
    The innkeeper beckoned her, and the woman shuffled away. Her employer, or husband perhaps, cast an ill look at Caim.
    “We’ve no boarding!” he grumbled before following the woman into the back.
    Caim settled in his chair, and winced as his sore back rubbed against the slats. The other guests had paused again to watch him. He returned their gazes until, one by one, they went back to their cups. The cloaked man never looked up.
    Caim stared at the steaming pile of runt potatoes and carrots on his plate. The heat at his back, so delicious just minutes ago, was oppressive now. He took a sip from the cup and almost spat it out. Pieces of millet floated in the bitter beer. He started to put it down, but then took another slug.
    The sound of hoofbeats outside almost caused him to spit it out. On the road, horses meant rich people or soldiers, and either way it spelled trouble. Caim placed his hands on the tabletop. There was only one way out unless the back room had an exit. The other patrons cast glances around at the sounds from outside, but otherwise stayed as they were when the door slammed open. Caim eased his chair back out of the light of the fireplace.
    A group of men in damp leather armor and steel caps entered and stamped the snow from their boots. Five in number. No uniforms, but they wore enough hardware to make sure everyone knew they meant business. Then a sixth entered, wearing a steel cuirass over a mail byrnie; his riding boots were muddy from the road.
    Soldiers . Just what I don’t need .
    Everyone in the room bent farther over their drinks at the sight of the new arrivals. All conversation stopped. The crackle of the fire popped loud in the sudden silence. As the soldiers took seats at the table, pushing the farmers down to make room, the innkeeper hurried through the curtain with fistfuls of foaming mugs. He nodded as he set them down, but by the downward curve of his mouth he was anything but glad to see his new guests.
    “Good day, my lords.”
    One of the soldiers, the largest, tossed a couple coins on the table. “We need something to eat. And fodder for our mounts. See to it.”
    The owner bowed as he collected the money, and then departed back through the curtain. There was a ruckus in the back, accompanied by the sound of breaking clay, and the soldiers laughed to each other. Their captain sat with his back to the wall and minded his cup. He looked younger than the rest. Even without his armor or the expensive cavalry sword with its wire-wrapped hilt at his side, Caim would have guessed him to be the leader. He held himself a little apart from the others and had more of a care for his appearance. Likely he was some minor lord’s fourth son, reduced to serving in the army for self-advancement.
    While the soldiers drank and spoke among themselves, the cloaked man at Caim’s table stood up and headed toward the door. It looked like he might make it without incident until one of the soldiers called out.
    “Ho there!”
    The caller stood up, as did one of his brother soldiers, while the rest watched on. The officer did not stir, but he looked up over the rim of his mug. The cloaked man kept walking.
    Big mistake .
    The soldiers on their feet moved to intercept him, and