Gorel and the Pot Bellied God Read Online Free PDF

touched the damage on his face. Already, new skin was growing there. ‘A little hunting accident,’ he said.
    ‘Nasty,’ Kettle said. ‘What were you hunting?’ and his smile grew even wider, revealing long, narrow, pointed teeth that glinted in the light of the fire. Gorel didn’t reply directly. ‘What are you hunting?’ he said, instead. ‘When you’re not fermenting brawls, that is.’
    ‘But it was fun, wasn’t it? Too bad you didn’t stay until the end,’ Kettle said.
    ‘Neither did you, if I recall correctly.’
    ‘Oh, I was there,’ the Avian said, and there was something so childishly gleeful in his voice that Gorel found himself smiling back. ‘Hovering?’ Gorel said. The Avian laughed. ‘I was, as you say, hovering,’ he agreed.
    ‘Why did you do it?’
    ‘Find the lay of the land. Find out what the locals think of the rising threat in the south, and if so what their plans may be.’
    ‘You said you flew from Der Danang to Ankhar, over the No Man’s Lands,’ Gorel said, remembering. ‘And that you were shot at over the Black Tor…’
    ‘You have a good memory, friend.’
    ‘I don’t know about that,’ Gorel said, ‘but I can recognise shit when I smell it, and call it by its name.’
    ‘I’m not sure I get your meaning…’
    ‘If you came from anywhere, Avian, it would be from the Black Tor, I would say. An agent of this mysterious new mage I keep hearing about?’
    Somehow, Kettle contrived to look both bored and amused. ‘It’s a possibility,’ he agreed. ‘And you, Gorel? Do you have an employer?’
    ‘Not at the moment.’
    ‘But sometimes you are for hire.’
    ‘Sometimes we are all for hire, Avian.’
    Kettle laughed. It was a laugh like the call of birds, high and penetrating. He made himself more comfortable against his tree and made a sign with his hand. Gorel passed him the bottle. ‘To your good health, Gorel not-for-hire,’ he said, and drank. ‘And to the health of Dornalji Spawn-Son, of the Fifth Pond Lineage, and M… Master of Procurement – or is it too late for that now?’
    The gun was back in Gorel’s hand, and it was pointing at the Avian’s head. Kettle sighed and corked the bottle and leaned it gently beside him on the ground. ‘You are very attached to these toys of yours, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Please, put the gun away. You cannot resolve an argument with a gun.’
    ‘On the contrary,’ Gorel said, the gun steady in his hand, pointing directly between Kettle’s eyes, ‘I believe you can always resolve an argument with a gun.’
    ‘So direct,’ the Avian said, ‘so simple. If only life were like that, gunslinger.’ He raised his hands, stretched them upwards, a faint grin etched on his face. Gorel couldn’t help but be distracted somehow by the way the Avian’s flesh moved under his wings, tender skin covering lithe, sinuous muscles. ‘Please.’
    ‘You were spying on me.’
    ‘It is my job,’ the Avian said, and for the first time all hint of a smile disappeared from his face. ‘It’s what I do. I spy. You kill, but do I hold that against you?’
    ‘I kill when I have to.’
    ‘If you say so.’
    ‘Why were you spying on me?’
    ‘Oh, I was curious,’ the Avian said, and the smile returned to his face. His wings opened and closed, creating a slow, steady beat against his body. ‘A lone human, and a gunman besides, travelling up river to the frog-tribes’ lands – I had to ask myself why. And on whose behalf. And so –’and the smile widened again, and he licked his lips, with a small darting tongue that seemed to point, for just a fleeting moment, at Gorel – ‘I thought it might be enlightening to watch you. And it was ! Imagine my surprise when I saw you crawling, stealthily, naked, through the water of mighty Tharat, and kidnapping that annoying little froggie, and tying him up!’
    Was it Gorel’s imagination, or did Kettle put an accent on naked ? Gorel felt suddenly uncomfortable. He lowered the gun.