White Road by Lynn Flewelling Read Free Book Online Page A

keep you safe,” Riagil replied. As Seregil hurried off after Micum, Riagil turned to Alec. “Who were these assassins?”
    “That’s what Seregil and Micum are trying to find out. It all happened so fast, and their faces were covered. If they’d spoken, I might have known the accent, but no one did. But they were damn good, whoever they were. If they had managed to kill Seregil before he woke up, Sebrahn and I would probably be gone.” Unless they’d uncovered Sebrahn’s mouth, of course, and that really would have been the end of their secrets. Too many people had witnessed Sebrahn’s healing, and word was probably spreading through the house.
    “I see. Then I will leave you and see what your friends can find.” He rose and gave Adzriel a small bow. “I give my regrets to you and your clan, as well, Khirnari.”
    “The fault is not yours, I’m sure,” she replied graciously, and Alec suspected the exchange had something to do with Aurënfaie honor, because Riagil looked relieved as he went out.
    The dead were laid out in a row just outside the gates. Men held torches for Seregil and Micum as they began their examination. With help from some of Riagil’s men, they stripped the bodies and studied the clothing.
    Riagil joined them, looking on intently.
    “They’re certainly not ’faie,” Seregil said. These men had hairy chests and were too bulky in their build. Seregil shook his head, wondering how Alec had managed to hold off so many of them in his weakened state.
    “Pretty damn plain,” said Micum, looking over one of the leather vests.
    “Let me see the stitching.” Seregil turned it inside out, then checked some of the other clothing. “Most have crossed stitches instead of slanting. That could be Mycenian work, or north Plenimaran.”
    “The knives may be Plenimaran, too.”
    They turned their attention to the bodies now, looking for any sort of guild mark or other tattoo that would indicate who they were or where they had come from.
    None of them carried a purse, so there were no coins to tell them anything, either.
    Seregil took one of the lamps and held it close to one of the dead men’s faces. “The lower portion of the face is considerably lighter.”
    “He shaved his beard.”
    “Yes.”
    Several of the others showed the same pale jawline.
    “Looks like Plenimarans to me,” said Micum.
    “There are dark-haired, bearded, hairy-chested men in Skala, too, and Mycena.”
    “True.”
    Micum examined the man’s hands. “Callused, but no dirt ground into them or under the nails. And more callused on one hand than the other. They were swordsmen by trade.”
    Seregil did the same with several others, inspecting palms and fingers. “This one was left-handed. And this one was an archer.”
    “If they were assassins, then why didn’t they kill Alec and Sebrahn, as well?” asked Riagil.
    “Because they weren’t,” Seregil replied, still at work. “They were kidnappers, and very well-informed ones, too. They not only knew that we’re in Gedre; they knew which room we were in. And they meant to kill me, not take me. You probably have a spy in your house, Riagil.”
    “I will make inquiries, of course.”
    Good luck with that
, thought Seregil.
If your spy is good enough not to be noticed before, then he’s likely to just lay
low now
. “Have you had anyone new come to live in your household in the past month? A guest? A new servant?”
    “No.”
    “It could be someone who visits the house,” said Micum.
    “We’re a trade port. People come and go every day!”
    Seregil stood up and wiped his hands on his breeches. “Well, if I had to wager on it, I’d say they were Plenimarans who somehow managed to track us here, sent by someone who knew the alchemist. I think it may be time for us to move on.”
    Yhali had the tubs set up in the kitchen, and Alec was forced to swallow his modesty in front of the servants as they tended to him and the others. Sebrahn remained calm when a