Six Heirs by Pierre Grimbert Read Free Book Online Page B

dagger. His poison dagger.
    Did he touch it? No, he didn’t think so.
    He ran past his grandmother’s old bedroom and then hurtled down the stairs to the second floor. The Zü was already on his heels, just three steps behind, maybe fewer. Reyan expected to feel that lethal steel penetrate his flesh at any moment, and the mental image gave him speed. He ran the length of the hallway in ten strides, came to the top of the staircase that would lead him to the ground floor, then threw himself down.
    The Zü stumbled heavily over his body and flew right down the stairs. Reyan didn’t waste any time perusing the result and stood up to run toward the other stairway, which he leaped halfway down. He jumped over the rail and landed on the ground as the Zü was getting up, apparently unscathed. The Zü started down the rest of the stairs, no doubt grumbling threats and insults all the way.
    The actor was already making for a distant door, which he threw open and ran through. The library—there were weapons in the library. He pulled down the first one he saw, and the Zü charged into the room, barely sidestepping an ax blow that Reyan had delivered too early.
    The two men faced one another, each studying the other with the hope of surprising him in the darkness separating two lightning strikes. In normal combat, Reyan would have had the advantage with his weapon, but right now, with the help of the poison, the Zü would only have to touch him once to strike him down.
    The actor never had much practice with weapons; he didn’t even carry one. The training he received in his youth was limited to the classic swords of the Lorelien nobility: thirty-five-pound blades anyone would struggle to handle. This skill only came in handy during a performance.
    Before playing with Barle, he was also a member of a little circus troupe, for which he performed a number—a pathetic one, at that—that involved throwing knives. But the weapons hanging on the walls here had nothing in common with the perfectly balanced knives from the circus. Maybe he could still try?
    A flash revealed that the Zü had shifted to his left, and Reyan, surprised, reeled back with a cry. Luckily, the thunderstorm was at its peak, and the flashes followed each other quickly enough that the adversaries didn’t lose sight of each other for very long.
    Be that as it may, in this little game the assassin would have the upper hand sooner or later.
    The room went dark again and the actor randomly struck in all directions, as he had been doing up until now, hopingto injure the Zü—or at least prevent him from coming closer. The scene was lit up, then hidden again.
    The killer seemed to be enjoying the scene, teasing the actor left and right, closer and closer each time. Reyan realized suddenly that he was nothing but anonymous prey for the Zü, and this horrified him.
    He made his decision and immediately put his plan into action.
    The glow of a lightning strike gone, he launched his axe in what he supposed was the direction of the Zü and flung himself toward the wall. His fingers grabbed at a metallic object; he pulled it down immediately and found himself with a bastard sword in hand.
    A clap of thunder filled the room: he didn’t hear a cry or the fall of an axe. Calm restored, he listened, breathless in the fading light.
    The intervals were getting longer, and this silent wait seemed to last an eternity.
    The light returned to reveal a corpse. The axe had struck the Zü square in the forehead. Reyan drew near and mercilessly stabbed the point of the sword in the Zü’s throat, just in case.
    Armed with a crossbow, he went through the house cautiously, locking every door and checking every dark corner. Reassured, he came back to the assassin’s body and searched him from head to toe.
    He found a skeleton key, which he quickly slipped into his own pocket, a little wooden flask, a spool of thread, a little box containing a moist brown paste, a red headband, and, most