Mark of the Thief Read Online Free PDF Page B

really been that deeply asleep? Or was this group of guards so cunning that I could never have hoped to escape?
    They weren’t all that smart, I decided, as the first guard swatted me back to the ground with the side of his arm. I recognized him from the mines. His brutality made Sal look like a nursemaid. These men were rats. Getting caught was my fault, which probably meant I was a rat too. But they were ugly rats, and that was worse.
    “Trying to escape?” one guard asked. “You must think you’re pretty clever.”
    If I had been trying to escape, I wouldn’t have lain out in the middle of a strawberry patch. And no, at the moment, clever was the last word I’d have used to describe myself.
    “I was helping General Radulf.” I rubbed the back of my hand against my mouth where he had hit me, but when I pulled it away, I couldn’t tell if it was strawberry juice or blood. My mouth stung, though, so I didn’t get up. I didn’t want to risk him hitting me again.
    “The griffin is getting away,” one of the men shouted just as Caela angled her body sideways, slapping the man to the ground with her long tail.
    “Then kill it,” the guard standing over me ordered.
    “No!” I cried, earning a kick to my side.
    But the man who had been hit was preparing to obey the order. He reached into the nearby wagon for a bow and a handful of arrows.
    I stood and yelled at Caela, who was squawking with fury. “Stop fighting them! Caela, stop this or they’ll kill you!”
    Either she couldn’t hear me or she didn’t care. The man nocked his arrow.
    Ignoring the threats of the guards, I ran between the man’s bow and Caela, and put a hand on her side.
    “You have to stop fighting,” I told her. “Caela, please, you won’t win here.”
    She came down to all fours and was staring at me again. I was sure she could understand me, which was no surprise since she had once belonged to the gods. But understanding my words wasn’t the same as obeying them. She cast an angry glance toward the guards, then screeched so loud it made my ears ring. But she stopped fighting. The bow was lowered and the other men surrounded her with more ropes. I could only hope she would allow them to safely take her. They grabbed me next, rougher than was necessary considering I wasn’t fighting either.
    “Be careful, you brutes!” a voice said from behind me. “Don’t hurt him!”
    At first I had to twist to see who was speaking, but it was a boy not much older than me. He marched to my side, forcing the guards’ hands off me. He was tall, with curly golden-blond hair trimmed neatly around his face. I had no sandals at all to compare with his fine leather pair, and my tunic was plain, oversized until I grew a little more, and torn in the back where the griffin had scratched me. The boy’s fine clothing was perfectly white with purple trim, and for good luck, around his neck he wore a golden bulla. It wasn’t too different from the one hidden beneath my tunic, though I doubted his bulla glowed.
    “Crispus, you shouldn’t have run up here! Stay back from that animal!” Another man came forward in a similar white-and-purple toga. Only senators, or their sons, were allowed to wear those robes, but what was a senator doing out this far from Rome? I noticed his shoes next: high buckskin boots colored black, rather than the red ones or sandals other, lower-ranking citizens wore. He had kind eyes, and thinning blond hair that seemed to be graying sooner than it should. His face was a series of worry lines, though he also seemed to have an easy smile.
    But Crispus nudged his head toward me. “I told you I saw a griffin, and this boy controlled her. You should’ve seen it, Father!”
    The guard next to me stepped forward and bowed. “This boy is an escaped slave, and must be punished, Senator … er …”
    “Valerius.” He walked closer to me. “Did you run from your master, boy?”
    “No.” Not this time.
    A guard grabbed my arm again,