The Redemption of Althalus Read Online Free PDF Page B

tavern keeper looked at him inquiringly. “What’s your pleasure, neighbor?” he asked.
    “Mead,” Althalus replied. He hadn’t had a good cup of mead for months, since the lowlanders seemed not to know how to brew it.
    “Mead it is,” the tavern keeper replied, going back behind the wobbly counter to fetch it.
    “I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Althalus said politely to the tipsy fellow.
    “No offense taken,” the fellow said. “I was just telling Arek here about a Clan Chief to the north who’s so rich that they haven’t invented a number for how many coins he’s got locked away in that fort of his.”
    The fellow had the red face and purple nose of a hard-drinking man, but Althalus wasn’t really interested in his complexion. His attention was focused on the man’s wolf-skin tunic instead. For some peculiar reason, whoever had sewn the tunic had left the ears on, and they now adorned the garment’s hood. Althalus thought that looked very fine indeed. “What did you say the Chief’s name was?” he asked.
    “He’s called Gosti Big Belly—probably because the only exercise he gets is moving his jaw up and down. He eats steadily from morning to night.”
    “From what you say, I guess he can afford it.”
    The half-drunk man continued to talk expansively about the wealth of the fat Clan Chief, and Althalus feigned a great interest, buying more mead for them each time the fellow’s cup ran dry. By sundown the fellow was slobbering drunk and there was a sizable puddle of discarded mead on the floor near Althalus.
    Other men came into the tavern after the sun had set, and the place grew noisier as it grew dark outside.
    “I don’t know about you, friend,” Althalus said smoothly, “but all this mead is starting to talk to me. Why don’t we go outside and have a look at the stars?”
    The drunken man blinked his bleary eyes. “I think that’s a wunnerful idea,” he agreed. “My mead’s telling me to go see some stars, too.”
    They rose to go outside, and Althalus caught the swaying man’s arm. “Steady, friend,” he cautioned. Then they went outside with Althalus half supporting his drunken companion. “Over there, I think,” he suggested, pointing at a nearby grove of pine trees.
    The man grunted his agreement and lurched toward the pines. He stopped, breathing hard, and leaned back against a tree. “Kinda woozy,” he mumbled, his head drooping.
    Althalus smoothly pulled his heavy bronze short sword out from under his belt, reversed it, and held it by the blade. “Friend?” he said.
    “Hmm?” The man’s face came up with a foolish expression and unfocused eyes.
    Althalus hit him squarely on the forehead with the heavy hilt of his sword. The man slammed back against the tree and bounced forward.
    Althalus hit him on the back of the head as he went by, and the fellow went down.
    Althalus knelt beside him and shook him slightly.
    The man began to snore.
    “That seems to have it,” Althalus murmured to himself. He laid his sword down and went to work. After he’d removed his new wolf-skin tunic from the unconscious man, he took the fellow’s purse. The purse wasn’t very heavy, but his drinking companion’s shoes weren’t too bad. The trip up from Maghu had left Althalus’ own shoes in near tatters, so replacing them was probably a good idea. The snoring man also had a fairly new bronze dagger at his belt, so all in all, Althalus viewed the entire affair as quite profitable. He dragged the man farther back into the shadows, then put on his splendid new tunic and his sturdy shoes. He looked down at his victim almost sadly. “So much for wealth beyond counting,” he sighed. “It’s back to stealing clothes and shoes, I guess.” Then he shrugged. “Oh, well. If that’s what my luck wants me to do, I might as well go along with her.” He half saluted his snoring victim and left the vicinity. He wasn’t exactly deliriously happy, but he was in better spirits than he’d