The Grave Thief: Book Three of The Twilight Reign Read Online Free PDF Page B

the bejewelled woman called Conjurer. She in turn was making a futile effort to be inconspicuous. Isak suspected the woman was unused to this, but he knew most mages found it difficult to be comfortable in his presence. A combination of the raw skills of youth, the brute force of a white-eye and the vast power of two Crystal Skulls would make any sane person nervous.
    ‘Which is why there are pre-planned routes for you all to get here,’ Isak said. ‘It may not befit my position to sneak through attics and alleys all the way from Cold Halls, but anything Lesarl considers safe for himself is good enough for me.’
    ‘Not everyone has that luxury,’ Whisper persisted, her voice gaining a slight edge. ‘Prayer has to be loaded into a barrel upriver of Holy Docks; Conjurer’s route takes two hours to travel and more to prepare. The shorter the notice you give, the more likely it is that the routes are compromised - even without the increased patrols of Ghosts round here to catch the interest of our enemies.’
    ‘Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,’ Isak replied after a pause.
    Even in the dim candlelight her eyes flashed and he could see Whisper had caught the warning. She was surprisingly young for her position, no more than thirty summers, and a handsome woman. Right now she was dressed like a merchant’s son, apart from the mass of wavy black hair that shadowed her face. When she’d slipped through the single attic window it had been tied back. Isak guessed she was new enough in her position to be wary, even of the rest of the coterie. Unlike the others, he suspected she’d put some thought into her attire, for he could see she was wearing nothing unusual or identifiable, not even a piece of jewellery.
    ‘I wanted this meeting to take place,’ he continued, ‘and so it is. I know you have rules in place to protect your identities, but at the moment that’s not what I’m concerned about.’
    There was silence. Isak inspected the faces, trying to decide who would be the key to winning over the group. Lesarl was leader, sure enough, but Isak had grown up on a wagon-train and he knew full well there was always a leader among the equals. Carel had been the commander of the wagon-train guards, but Valo Denn was the mercenaries’ man, the one who formed their opinions and presented their arguments when necessary, the person who was just that fraction more than his peers.
    So who’ve we got here? he wondered, managing not to jump when he got a reply from the privacy of his own head.
    ‘ Isn’t it obvious? ’ came the scornful mutter in the corner of his mind: Aryn Bwr, last king of the Elves, or at least what remained of his tattered soul. The last king, unable to fully possess Isak’s body and return to life, had been reduced to a bitter memory of former glory, while forever fearing the retribution death would bring.
    ‘ To you I’m sure it is ,’ Isak replied. ‘ How many years were you king of your people? For the rest of us, it takes a little more thought .’
    He looked around at the nine faces, men and women as different as you could find, each bound within the fabric of those communities they represented. Whisper, newly chosen by Lesarl to lead his spy networks, working hard to live up to the standard her father, the previous incumbent, had set; Dancer, marked out as a knight or a marshal by the single gold hoop in his left ear - and Isak had no doubt he was a marshal, born to the title. Perhaps it was Sailor, sitting next to Dancer, a scarred veteran with a crumpled nose. He was dressed in red, typical of his trade among the Farlan, though he was risking a flogging by eschewing the macramé knotting on his shirt that marked his ship - and made him traceable. Confident in his ability to manipulate a superior? I wouldn’t bet against it , Isak thought.
    He couldn’t judge Conjurer, so affected was her manner, and Soldier looked so terrified to be sitting in the presence of his lord that it looked