The Colour of Vengeance by Rob J. Hayes Read Free Book Online Page A

fearful stares; in a way he had almost missed it. Now he rarely received any stares at all, except for the rats that sometimes found their way into his cell; they tended to glare at him through confused eyes as if it were strange for him to be there.
    A small glob of white landed not two metres to Jacob's right. He looked up to see a large bird; possibly a pigeon or a seagull, he had never bothered to learn the difference between the two, land on one of the street lanterns. Its head twitched about in a nervous fashion that made the Arbiter smile. Then the bird let loose a long, mournful coo before leaping into the air and disappearing over the top of a building marked the Tired Mule . There was a time when Jacob might have visited such a tavern, after all, he'd met Sarah in a tavern.
    “Arbiter! The man chasing me is a heretic. A witch,” shouted a man barrelling towards Jacob at high speed. He wore fake-silk finery dashed in outrageous colours that may have been the current fashion but Jacob had been locked away for too long to be sure.
    The man chasing was bald, bearded and burly like a blacksmith but without the tell-tale difference in arm muscle. He wore an apron spotted with blood. Most likely a butcher , Jacob concluded.
    As the man in fake-silk passed, wearing a wild grin, Jacob's right hand shot out. Two fingers punched into the man's side and he stumbled a few steps before collapsing onto his knees, clutching at his side and coughing blood. A few moments later he rolled into the canal and stopped moving, he floated along slowly, face down, his red blood swirling and mixing with the blue water. Jacob never broke his stride. The butcher stopped for a moment, stared at the dead man and at Jacob then he muttered a thank you and ran off.
    Not far to the docks now. The sooner we get the Black Thorn back the sooner we can put me back in my cell. Jacob thought to himself. It was comforting knowing his stone prison was waiting for him and always would be.
    When he reached the docks Jacob couldn't keep the smile from his face. It was even more wonderful than he remembered. Salt air assaulted his eyes and nose and he breathed in deep; experiencing the tang and flavour of it. The noise was a loud rumble of hundreds of voices all raised at once and combined with the creak and groan of ships at dock, of rope being stressed and water lapping at the hulls. A horse drawn cart rumbled past him, the poor beast was oblivious to everything but that directly in front of it; blinders they called them and people wore them all their lives without even realising. Not Jacob though, his blinders had been removed long ago, he saw everything, heard everything, smelled everything. What some people might call an assault to the senses was a joyous torrent of experience to him.
    Back in his cell, when he chose to look out of his window into the Inquisition courtyard Jacob had seen many people, but even at the busiest time no more than a hundred. Here at the docks of Sarth there must have been thousands. It shouldn't have surprised him; Sarth wasn't just the capital of the kingdom of Sarth, it was also the kingdom's main port; nestled as it was in the bay of storms with the Gods' Rest peninsula to the north and the Black Rock cliffs to the south.
    People didn't stare at him, they stared away from him; looking elsewhere as they walked around him, none wanting to attract the attention of an Arbiter. Some glanced sidelong at his coat, no doubt wondering why it was black instead of the usual brown. Arbiters were a common sight in Sarth but none of the people around Jacob would have seen a black Arbiter coat before, after all his was the only one.
    Jacob set to scanning the crowds for the Black Thorn. He had been told what the man looked like; tall, standing just over six feet; wasted muscle where once there was brawn; a shaven head; the left side of his face badly scarred, burned and missing the eye; only three fingers on his left hand. Jacob had