The Traitor's Heir Read Online Free PDF Page A

smiled.
    Eamon courteously waited for Aeryn to go across to the table then followed her, bearing his precious cargo. He saw that Ladomer’s feet were still firmly planted on the remaining chair.
    â€œMight I sit, sir?” Eamon asked playfully. He had once made the mistake of not only sitting on Ladomer, but also of comparing him favourably to upholstery in the process. He had meant both things in jest; the same could be said for the crushing kick with which Ladomer had rewarded him for his impudence. Ladomer had, of course, apologized profusely, and Eamon had done the same, but it had still taken some weeks for the bruise to heal completely.
    Eamon knew, from this and other experience, that Ladomer Kentigern was one of the strongest and most agile men that he had ever met. Ladomer had always bested him, often painfully, in training. Long years of that same Gauntlet training had also taught him that Ladomer was an extremely capable soldier. Eamon knew that he would never want to be on the wrong side of his friend or stand against his lieutenant in a real fight.
    At Eamon’s grandiloquent request an enormous grin rolled across Ladomer’s face. “You wish me to remove my feet?” he asked innocently. They were both remembering the same incident.
    â€œI would be greatly obliged,” Eamon answered.
    The smile grew broader. “Anything for you, Eamon!” Ladomer told him.
    The lieutenant moved his feet and Eamon sat. He passed the mugs round, and Ladomer raised one high.
    â€œA toast!” he said. “To Eamon! May he be the finest Glove the River Realm has ever seen!”
    The mugs chinked together, chiming their terracotta accord and drawing the attention of bystanders, who cheered. With an embarrassed smile Eamon took a sip of his drink. Like him, Ladomer had come to Edesfield in the years following the culls in the city and, like Eamon, Ladomer had lost both his parents in the upheaval that had followed. Ladomer was a few years older than him and had always seemed to bear his misfortune as equally as his fortune. He was a fine lieutenant, and Eamon wondered whether the man sitting opposite him would one day become one of the Master’s Hands. The thought of his friend winning such an accolade made him smile.
    Ladomer set his mug down. “Did Belaal tell you where you’re to be assigned?” he asked, leaning forward with deep interest. Before Eamon could answer he ploughed on: “I hope you’re not staying in Edesfield!”
    Aeryn gave him a strange look. “Come on, Aeryn!” Ladomer laughed. “Edesfield is a fine place, but there’re no prospects here for young men like Eamon and me.”
    â€œYou’re hardly ever in Edesfield,” Aeryn commented. “I’m not sure you’re qualified to speak about what it’s like here!”
    â€œBut I know what it’s like out there, Aeryn,” Ladomer told her, gesturing broadly with his mug. “And that’s where we should be, doing our bit for the Master – especially now that the Easters are arming.”
    â€œArming?” Eamon asked.
    â€œThey’ve severed diplomatic relations with Dunthruik.”
    Eamon nodded slowly; it explained the fretted movement of so many of the Hands back and forth between their regions and the capital.
    â€œI’ve heard,” Ladomer began, lowering his voice and head conspiratorially, “that the Easters are feeding information and support to the wayfarers. You know; urging them on.”
    Eamon laughed. “Nobody can stand against the Master!” he said confidently. “These ‘wayfarers’ least of all. I mean, the might of the whole Gauntlet and the Master is against them. They don’t stand a chance, Easters or not.”
    â€œI know that,” Ladomer growled grimly, “but that doesn’t stop the roads being marred and the valleys being filled with the bodies of unsworn cadets! It doesn’t