The Warlord's Legacy by Ari Marmell Read Free Book Online

twitch of her lips.
    Finally having regained his composure, Cerris approached the nearby wardrobe, selected the first blouse and skirt that looked manageable without the aid of servants, and looked away once more. He could all but hear her pursing her lips at his selection.
    “Color-blind, are we?” she asked as she dressed. Once done, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him to face her. “What are you doing here, Cerris?” she asked seriously. “If you escaped from your work gang, why in the name of all the gods aren’t you miles away by now?”
    He stepped aside, poured them each a cup from the teapot he’d brought from the kitchen. “I need your help,” he told her softly. “And then we’re
both
getting out of here.” He seemed surprised even as he said it.
    ‘
Oh
, please.
Tell me you’re just saying that to make sure she helps you,
’ his mind taunted in the demon’s voice. ‘
Given the stellar accounting you’ve made of yourself with women so far, anything else is either delusional or masochistic, wouldn’t you say
?’
    Cerris found himself grateful that he was already blushing from before, since it hid the shameful flush that newly rose to his cheeks. In any case, it was done, and he focused away from his inner dialogue to listen as Irrial spoke.
    “… commoner might just disappear,” she was saying, “but I think if one of the nobility vanishes, they might well come looking, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Are you afraid of that, my lady?”
    “No,” she said, and he found he believed her. “I could do a lot more good outside this damn house. But this sort of thing takes preparation, Cerris, and I’m just not—”
    Cerris raised an interrupting hand, nearly spilling his tea. “You misunderstand,” he said. “I’m not planning on making our escape
tonight
. Actually, in another hour or so, I need to sneak back into the barracks before I’m missed.”
    Irrial blinked twice, perhaps checking her vision since her
hearing
was obviously faulty. “What are you … I don’t …”
    “I need you to help me find something, Irrial,” he said, unaware that he’d dropped the proper formal address. “Something that’ll give us a vital edge. I can’t leave without it.”
    “What?”
    “A weapon. One that would certainly have been claimed by someone of rank. The Cephiran officers meet with the nobles and Guildmasters regularly, don’t they? To make sure the city’s running to their specifications?”
    Irrial nodded. “Twice a week, so far.”
    “Then you’ve a better chance of spotting it than I do. It was taken from my home when they attacked, and I want it back.”
    “ ‘It’? You’re being awfully cryptic. What sort of weapon?”
    Cerris sighed. “I don’t know.”
    “Cerris, what are you trying—”
    “Have you ever heard,” he asked slowly, as though deciding how much to trust her, “of the Kholben Shiar?”
    “
What
? You’re joking, right? They’re a
myth.
”
    “They’re not. I have one. Or I did, anyway.”
    Maybe it was his eyes, maybe his voice, or maybe the fact that he’d have to be insane to risk escaping—and then
breaking back in
—on a jest. Whatever the case, Irrial obviously chose to believe.
    “My gods.” She began pacing the length of the bedroom and back. “Rumor has it that Audriss the Serpent and Corvis Rebaine each had one, you know.”
    “Did they.” His voice, flat as an undertaker’s slab, made it a statement rather than a question.
    “I saw an axe hanging at Rebaine’s side, the day he took Rahariem.” She was whispering, her expression unfocused. “I don’t even know why I noticed it, there was so much else about him … Was that it, do you think? The Kholben Shiar?”
    Cerris said nothing, and Irrial scarcely seemed to notice his silence. She shook her head as though dragging her thoughts more than twenty years forward, back to today. “If you don’t know what form it’s taken, how am I supposed to recognize