The Misbegotten (An Assassin's Blade Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

me.”
    I wrapped a small pinch of fur around my neck.
    “Last I heard,” she said, “it would take half the Edenvaile vault to buy enough ebon for one sword.”
    “I know people.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    “Speaking of the Edenvaile vault,” I said, “Mydia and I never got to the point of discussing payment for information on your little king slayer problem. Now I’m not a stickler, Sybil. Since you freed me, I’m willing to part with whatever knowledge I have for a… mm, let’s say, discounted price.”
    Sybil grabbed the empty bag from the floor and compressed it against her chest. “I would rather have your eyes and ears than what’s between your head right now. Trust that you do not already have information that could help me.”
    “Is that what Chachant wants as well?”
    “Does it matter? He’s not here. And I promise you will be rewarded handsomely, so long as you are in agreement that forty thousand is a handsome payment.”
    I cleared my throat. “As in forty thousand coins that glitter gold? Well, then, what are you waiting on? Lead the way.”
    A whistling voice pierced the cold air. “I hear ’em! They skitter and scatter down the halls, mingle amongst us! The demons are here, friends. The demons have come.”
    We passed by the preacher man, who shook his skinned head in disappointment.
    I shrugged and said, “The gods rescued me.”
    Sybil’s hissing torch carved out an orange-lit ramp of dirt that ascended quickly to the surface. We followed it and emerged into the slightly less cold air that coasted through the openness of Edenvaile.
    The night sky resembled a placid lake whose pinpoints of winking light were the celestial equivalent to mosquitoes and sundry insects nipping at calm evening waters. It was a welcome sight, after being stuffed underground for days.
    A temperamental wind brewed up around us, hawking and hunting for some sign of life to bury in a five-foot snowdrift.
    “They’re supplied and ready to go,” Sybil said, motioning to two horses. She pulled her wool cowl down, tied it in place, and put a foot on the saddle strap.
    I touched the mare with a chestnut face and golden eyes. My Pormillia. She nuzzled my palm affectionately.
    “I saw her in the stables,” Sybil said. “I remembered her eyes from your most recent visit.” She heaved herself onto her horse. “Come, hurry.”
    We rode off for the gate, which was curiously opened. After we put it behind us, it closed with a thud.
    We rode east for a while and then south at daybreak. During a quick breather to let the horses regather themselves, Sybil told me she knew a place we could rest comfortably. Comfort wasn’t as much a concern of mine as getting answers to what had transpired in Edenvaile and why exactly the lover of Chachant Verdan had freed me in the dark of night. She had been obtusely vague, but she’d assured me I would receive the answers I desired. Answers and, even more importantly, a mountain of gold.
    Around midday, we reached the toes of Mount Kor, near the southern tip of Rime. Here the snow lay as fine dust along the jagged rock and among bearberry and arctic moss.
    Sybil circled around for a while. She eventually led us into a small cavern buried inside the descending mountain. The roof was painted the color of wheat, scarred with chalk lines as if someone had taken a dagger and scraped it all up. After walking into a cavern once and having a spider the size of both my hands fall on my head, I had a tendency to inspect ceilings with the thoroughness of a rock hound inspecting gems.
    “It’s warm in here,” I said, feeling myself begin to sweat. “Oh, shit. Did I die and go to…”
    Sybil laughed. She got off her horse. With a few hand signals, the beast sighed and lay down.
    “It’s a hot spring,” she said. She dipped her finger into a wide natural basin, shored with smooth rock, and flicked it at me.
    The hot sprinkles of water chased away the cold in my bones, which evacuated my