Sung in Blood by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

mansion.
    His men joined him, the King, and two surviving guards, everyone getting their backs together.
    The demon raged. And still the villains came on. What had they been promised?
    There was a violent twist in the web. Rider's demon shrieked, dropped a mangled victim, began to spin head over heels. And to shrink. In seconds it dwindled to a point, which vanished with a loud pop!
    But before it went the monster did, momentarily, frighten the attackers into backing off.
    Rider turned his attention to the spell that masked the fray.
    The attackers again moved in. The area was carpeted with soldiers and assassins. Chaz growled,
    "These guys must be getting paid gold by the boatload." None were the sort who threw themselves on swords for causes.
    The clangor resumed. A guard went down. A blow staggered the King himself. Chaz collapsed, struck on the head. Rider fended blows ... He ripped the fabric of the invisibility spell.
    Not three seconds later there was a wild bray of trumpets from the Citadel. The garrison was alert already, concerned because the monarch had not yet appeared.
    Soldiers poured from the Citadel. The villains saw their deaths upon them. No reward was worth the mercy they could expect if they were captured. They fled.
    Groggy, Chaz caught one by the heel and piled onto him.
    The very sky seemed to shriek in frustration.
    Rider was ready when the deadly sorcery fell. So swift and sure was his response, none of his companions realized they came within seconds of death by melting.
    Rider asked the King, "Now will you concede the possibility Shasesscrre may be in danger?" But he paid little attention to the response.
    That attack had not come from Kralj Odehnal. Of that he was sure. It did not have the dwarf's stamp. Nor did Rider believe Odehnal to be that powerful, nor possessed of so mighty an arrogance.
    As he helped Chaz with his prisoner, he told his men, "This is even bigger than we suspected.
    And there are more players in the game than we thought."

XII
    Rider wakened with the sun. His body ached from the previous day's exertions and bruises, yet he was eager to be at his new vocation. He leapt out of bed, began doing calisthenics.
    Su-Cha stuck his head in the doorway. "Up already?" Su-Cha was always up. Imps did not sleep often. "The juices are flowing, little friend." "Shall I waken the others?"
    "No need. They deserve their rest. How is the prisoner?" "Unhappy. And as full of blessed ignorance as ought to elevate him direct to nirvana. Someone put sixty pounds of gold on your head. The King's, too. Chaz is going to wilt when he hears his noggin is worth only five." "What I expected. What of the web?" "Nothing shaking. His nibs ain't moved." Rider abandoned his exertions, though customarily he devoted an hour to exercise. "I'll bathe quickly. Two chores to be done. Take your pick. Cook breakfast or fetch shantor's robes for the whole crowd."
    "And if I choose cooking?"
    "I'll boot you downstairs."
    "What I thought." Having little need to consume food, Su-Cha had no need to learn cookery. His occasional efforts verged on the poisonous. "Enough for everybody?"
    "Yes. It'll take the whole crew to corner a rat like Odehnal."
    "Remember the old saw."
    "I do. I don't expect he'll be taken easily."
    Someone in one of the sleeping rooms grumbled about all the racket. Moments later Spud toddled past, headed for the kitchen. He banged around enough to waken everyone else. When Su-Cha returned with the shantor disguises he found the whole crowd tripping over one another while cooking and eating.
    The donning of disguises took place not far from the suspect tenements. The weeping sickness was common in the slums, and the terror of the riverbanks. It was a slow and gruesome killer, and one challenge Jehrke had not been able to meet. Rider's men would not stand out unless they made it appear there were too many shantors in one area. People would stay out of their way. Though Jehrke had proven the weeping sickness