The Adorned Read Online Free PDF Page A

into silence. Five years. It seemed a long time—more than a quarter of my life—but I knew in truth it wasn’t. I would still be a young man when I was free of my bond. Until then, though, I’d never need worry where my next meal would come from.
    I looked up at Maxen. “I’ll sign.”
    Gren carried a leather case at his side; he opened it now, anticipating Maxen’s need. Maxen reached for a scroll and unrolled it upon the stained table. A candle was already burning; he took ink, pens, wax from the case as Gren held it open. I watched him lay out his tools like a surgeon. “I’ve asked you once. You are sure?”
    I hesitated. “I want to read it.”
    He laughed. “Were you apprenticed to a judge? It’s quite complex.”
    “I want to read it,” I repeated, edges of my mouth gone tight.
    “Let the boy read, Maxen,” Gren said.
    He raised his brows and slid the scroll my way. “Very well.”
    My eyes darted over the tightly packed lines of the contract. It was nothing I did not expect. The holder of my bond—Maxen Udred, his name neatly inked in—would profit from my services until it expired. I nodded quickly. “I’ll sign.”
    “Wait a moment, wait a moment. You haven’t even read it through!”
    “I’ve read it.” I raised my chin. “Do you have a pen for me?”
    He blinked at me, silent for a moment. I wondered if he truly believed I had read his contract. “Now the last time.” He dipped the steel nib of his pen in the inkpot, twice, and handed it to me. A small black spatter landed on the tabletop; he didn’t seem to notice. “Are you sure? Break a contract like this, and you’ll be an outlaw, or a debt-slave if they catch you.”
    “I know.” I bent over the scroll and wrote my name and birth year on the blank lines that required them. “I’m sure.” Then I signed, the nib of the pen bending under the pressure of my hand.
    “There.” He smiled and rolled up the scroll again before the ink had even dried. “Now all you need to do is wait.”
    He said it as if it would be easy. I looked up at him, at Gren, and a bitter smile twisted my mouth. “I will be here.”

Chapter Five
    When next Maxen Udred returned, there were already others in the house for him to dispose of; his turnaround in clients was swift. I wondered if it were always so, or if the war had swelled his coffers, with widows and old soldiers coming to his doorstep in a neat line.
    He wore a different suit this time, in dark blue, an almost martial color. The notebook had returned, and his pencil was swift in his hand as he assigned work. Gren stood behind him, a solid and somehow reassuring presence. I glanced at him and swore I saw the ghost of a smile.
    “You, Tiruv Jansser.” Maxen motioned to a thick-set Northerner with pockmarked cheeks. “There is guard duty for you at Ashen.”
    The man swallowed; the rest looked on him with something like pity. I understood why: Ashen was Peretim’s great prison, a sprawling dungeon beneath the palace, cave-dark and damp. I shuddered. Inmates were not expected to survive long, down in the darkness. How long the guards were expected to last, I did not know.
    “Yes, sir,” Tiruv finally said. He bowed his head.
    Maxen looked in his notebook. “Etan Dairan?”
    Heart hammering, I stepped forward, head slightly bowed.
    He checked the notebook once more, frowning. “You are Etan Dairan?”
    I do not know what he had marked down against my name. I had not changed much, in a bare week, though the last of my bruises had faded. I raised my head, meeting his eyes.
    He tapped at his notebook. “Well,” he said at last. “Never mind.” He turned away from me, to Trelan, who had lingered in the holding house alongside me. “Trelan Marrow? You have a place as well. A man named Waggen needs help in his warehouse. Do you know the place?”
    He nodded. “I do.” He made a face. “Sir.”
    Maxen narrowed his eyes. “You can report there yourself. He’ll be expecting you.