The Broken Blade Read Online Free PDF Page A

urging to canter up to the North Gate. Eamon quietly advised the beast that he had best not get too hopeful; there would be no riding the plains that day. Whether the creature understood him or not, he did not know, but when they halted at the gate and Sahu was given over to the gate men, the horse cast a mournful look out beyond the great lintels.
    The same men who took charge of his horse told him that Lord Dehelt toured the nearer part of the wall with some city engineers. Thanking them, Eamon made to climb the stair to the full height of the wall.
    â€œShall I wait for you here, my lord?” Fletcher’s voice called after him.
    â€œDo so, Mr Fletcher.”
    A strong wind whipped across the ramparts that day. As he reached the topmost part, Eamon was driven against the stoneworkby its force. Sentinels were posted at regular intervals along the long walls, splashes of red against the grey, and in the near distance a figure in black, accompanied by a couple of others. Eamon went towards them.
    â€œLord Dehelt,” he greeted, arriving.
    â€œLord Goodman.” Dehelt greeted him cordially and bowed. The men with the Lord of the North Quarter did likewise.
    â€œHis glory,” they said in unison.
    â€œI would speak with you a moment,” Eamon said.
    Dehelt nodded, then turned to the men with him. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. “Please advise the quarter’s architects of the necessary adjustments, as we discussed.”
    The men bowed once more to both Hands and then moved off along the wall. Dehelt turned to Eamon again.
    â€œI am sorry that I could not meet you at the Handquarter, my lord.”
    Eamon smiled. “It was little trouble for me to come to you.”
    â€œBut I should have come to you, Lord Goodman,” Dehelt replied. He looked at the stones all around them, his eyes caught by something that only he could see.
    â€œHow is the wall?” Eamon asked him.
    â€œIt needs but minimal repair,” Dehelt answered. “I have always been attentive to it. It will hold for the North. As for South, East, and West, I do not know. Doubtless, my lords the Quarter Hands will have seen to that.” He looked up. “Have you ever seen the full might of these walls, Lord Goodman?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe South is weakest – I understand that it is not the original city wall. From what of it I have seen, it seems to have been too swiftly built when the city was taken.”
    â€œI am sure that Lord Tramist has such matters in hand.”
    â€œHe has my trust also, Lord Goodman. These walls have repelled strong foes in their time, and this city has weapons that may do so yet.” Dehelt laid gloved fingers to the stone. For a long timehe gazed north across the plains, towards the foothills of Ravensill and, beyond that, the northern mountains. He breathed deeply, then turned to meet Eamon’s gaze. “You also have strong foes, Lord Goodman. I would bid you to be wary of them.”
    Eamon tried to assess the man’s quiet face; it betrayed nothing.
    â€œWill you speak no more clearly, Lord Dehelt?”
    â€œI am not a politic man, Lord Goodman,” Dehelt answered. “I am a watcher. There are deep currents in these Four Quarters.” He turned to look out across the city, and Eamon saw that the man’s gaze encompassed it all, from Blind Gate to port breakers.
    â€œThe currents go back long years,” Dehelt added at last. “You are but young, Lord Goodman, and yet to the currents you are like a long-forgotten stream, emerging from deep places and feeding into churning waters. You trouble them.”
    Eamon looked out at the sea, to where the River’s mouth gorged on waves. The crests of the high waters swirled beyond the breakers, and the tall masts of the purple-bannered merchant ships were gliding into port.
    â€œYou would counsel me, Lord Dehelt?”
    â€œI would not, my lord.”
    Eamon met his