The Saints of the Sword by John Marco Read Free Book Online

Alazrian. “Is something wrong?”
    “Forgive me,” said Dakel. “I was lost in thought for a moment. You don’t look very much like your father, do you? I saw him from the tower when you arrived. He’s much darker than you, isn’t he?”
    Alazrian ran his hand through his platinum hair. “I’m more like my mother, actually.”
    “Oh? I had heard the Lady Calida had hair like a raven.”
    “Well, yes.” Alazrian cleared his throat. “I suppose.”
    “You’re not big like your father, either. He’s like a tree, that one. But you—” He shrugged. “You must be still growing.”
    All the old anxieties came flooding back. What was Dakel doing? Alazrian hurried to change the subject.
    “Thank you so much for coming to see me, Lord Minister. Perhaps you can tell me of some interesting things to see while I’m in the city. I had hoped to do some exploring. Maybe this evening.”
    “Certainly,” said Dakel. “I can have a carriage take you anywhere you wish. You can tour the city.”
    “I’m fond of books. Are there any libraries here? It’s such a grand city. I imagine you must have scholar halls.”
    This made the Inquisitor’s eyes narrow. “Of course we have books. What type of books are you looking for?”
    Alazrian played the little boy. “Oh, anything! We don’t have many books back home, and I do so love to read. History books on the Black City would be wonderful. Or fictions. Yes, I like those very much. Maybe your driver can take me?”
    “Whatever you wish, young Leth.” Dakel still had suspicion in his eyes, but Alazrian pretended not to notice. “Call for Rian whenever you want to go. He will arrange the carriage for you. But I do advise you to get some rest. The tribunal starts early.”
    “I understand, Lord Minister. Thank you again for coming to greet me, and for the marvelous rooms.”
    “You are welcome,” said Dakel. “The emperor and I want your stay to be comfortable.”
    “The emperor?” asked Alazrian. “Will I be meeting him as well?”
    Dakel shrugged. “Perhaps, young Leth,” he said vaguely. “Perhaps.”
    And then he was gone as quickly as he’d come, disappearing like a wraith through the door, his long robes trailing behind him. Alazrian stood and stared at the door, puzzled by what had transpired. Despite Dakel’s claim of innocence, he didn’t trust the Inquisitor at all. And that mention of the emperor had unnerved Alazrian, reminding him that it was Biagio who had summoned him here to Nar City.
    “But why?” Alazrian wondered aloud.
    There was no reply from the opulent room.
    That night, after a painfully awkward dinner with his father, Alazrian escaped into the city. The sun had gone down behind the surrounding hills and Nar’s black wings enveloped him, swallowing him in its crowded streets. As Dakel had promised, there had been a carriage and driver for him, a luxurious vehicle fit for royalty with two twin geldings and gold-gilded rails shaped like sea serpents. Alazrian sat on the edge of the ruby cushions as he staredout the window, his nose pressed to the glass. He was on an avenue thick with people and horses and shadowed by tall towers with gargoyles and buttresses, a thousand candles blinking in their windows. The unmistakable, metallic stink of the city soured his tongue and made him clear his throat while overhead played an orchestra of fire, the dazzling blue-orange flares of the smokestacks. Beggars and prostitutes mingled on the streets shouldering up to Naren lords walking manicured dogs, and children cried and ran through the avenues, some as filthy as rats, others as pampered as their regal parents. Alazrian watched it all with dumb amazement. Suddenly, Aramoor and Talistan seemed very far away.
    Lady Calida had been right; surely there was no place on earth like the Black City. The Naren capital seemed taller than a mountain and wider than an ocean, and it had a dream-like quality that was almost more nightmare than lullaby.
    He was