The Blackguard (Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

flow about him,
    Normally, a Daezun apprentice would see his master’s cup filled or a plate of food delivered, but that was not necessary tonight as Henrick’s cup was kept full and his plate of food had arrived just as Alador had entered. He made his way to the bar and met the large scowling keeper at the side. “I would like some ale and a plate of simple fare, sir,” Alador ordered casually, not really looking to the alehouse keeper. His eyes were still on Henrick. It came as a shock, then, when Alador was grabbed by the shirt front and jerked across the counter.
    “We don’t serve no dirty half-breeds in Oldmeadow.” The large man’s face was inches from Alador’s own surprised eyes for a few moments before he tossed Alador back like he was no larger than a small one.
    Alador hit the ground hard, knocking over a chair. He sat there stunned with shock. He’d been seen as different in Smallbrook, but he’d never been treated with such bold rudeness. He started to get up, but Henrick’s hand pressed down on his shoulder and his boot pinned Alador’s thigh in place.
    “Now, Now Derent!  Surely you are not denying my apprentice some food to take back to our wagon?” Henrick’s manner was jovial as he smiled at the keeper. “I mean, I am sure my slips are good enough to cover his meager needs. Why, the lad cannot drink but a pint before he snores the night away. Perhaps if you gave him a true measure of your mead, I could get some sleep tonight, for it would put him soundly under.” Henrick stepped across Alador, leaving him on the floor. “Have a heart for me at the very least?” he slipped a full medure across the bar, his other hand was held to his chest.
    There was a bit of nervous laughter about them, and Alador still sat stunned on the floor. The keeper slowly relaxed, glancing at Henrick and then the medure. “So he’s yours, Henrick? Surely you could pick a more striking lad or a homely woman for your needs?”  His eyes roved over Alador like he was some stray woman.
    Alador shifted uncomfortably at the outright laughter of those about him as he realized that the keeper was implying that the two of them were mating. He felt his anger bubble up as his own father played into their laughter.
    Henrick leaned across the bar to this Derent and murmured, “Not many take to traveling with an enchanter; beggars can’t be choosers, now can they? Besides, the boy has a sweet way about him.” Henrick winked at Derent, and when the keeper turned laughing outright to fetch a mug of apple mead, Henrick looked back with a glance so threatening that Alador said nothing as he made his way to his feet.
    When a plate of food was laid on the bar along with a mug of mead, Henrick picked them up and handed them to Alador. “Go keep my robes warm, boy. When I am ready, I will seek you out.” 
    Alador took the food and mug, his jaw clenched with anger he could barely contain. He stood glaring for a long moment at Henrick then glanced over to where Derent was pouring out another measure of mead from the large keg. Alador stared at it, imagining the keg overflowing. Henrick followed his gaze, then looked back at his son in warning, but Alador was already channeling his anger. The bung popped out with the pressure he created soaking the keeper with spewing apple mead. In the pleasing melody of Derent’s curses and nearby patrons’ shouts for the keeper to plug the keg up, Alador turned and left with his meal. He smiled slightly with satisfaction as he slipped out of the alehouse.
    It was a good hour later before Henrick joined him at the wagon. Alador was working on fletching an arrow when his father appeared out of the darkness and sat down beside him, his face unreadable in the flickering lantern light. “I am not sure whether I should congratulate you or beat you senseless,” Henrick growled.
    “You could have exposed yourself in a manner that I was not prepared to explain, especially since casual use of