Read Online The Way of the Blade by Stuart Jaffe - Free Book Online

Harskill had done here, and they would not let it go.
    Someone knocked on the door. “Malja? It’s Fawbry and Tommy.”
    “Come in.”
    They burst into the room, harried and bearing red marks on their necks. Fawbry looked about to launch into a long tale when he halted and stared at the room. “This place is huge. And that bed! They gave us a couple cots and a closet.”
    “What do you want?”
    Fawbry cleared his head. “Tommy and I were out ... walking.”
    “I’m sure.” Malja knew love bites when she saw them. She avoided looking at Tommy. Just the thought of that sweet boy in the arms of some slut rankled her.
    “We heard something odd, something we’ve got to go look into right now.” Fawbry spoke in a hushed tone and kept glancing at the door as if he thought somebody might sneak in to overhear.
    Malja threw her apple core at him. “I’m sure he heard plenty of odd things watching you rut with the first girls you met. He’s still a boy in many ways and doesn’t need such a corrupt influence —”
    “The Book of Kryssta says —”
    “How can you bring up religion now? How can you even believe in Kryssta anymore after all we’ve heard?”
    Fawbry crossed his arms and cocked his head. “What have we heard that would stop me believing in the Brother God?”
    “You don’t think that story of Carsite and Scarite, two brothers fighting over the beautiful Pali, you don’t think that bears a resemblance to the story of the brother gods, Kryssta and Korstra, fighting over the beautiful Elatria?”
    “Not at all. One is a true religion concerning the real past and the real brother gods. The other is a story told by these backwards people who wanted to kill me and Tommy for eating an apple.”
    “And what do you think they’ll do to you two if they find out you’re seducing their girls.”
    “They’re grown women. I’m a grown man.”
    “Tommy’s not.”
    “According to the true religion, the one forged by and for the great Brother God, he is. The Book of Kryssta says, ‘Five years to grow, five years to play, five years to learn, then a man is born.’ Tommy’s at least sixteen, probably more.”
    “Age doesn’t make him a man and neither does screwing.”
    Fawbry stepped up close to Malja. “Neither does killing.”
    Malja’s eyes burned. “You don’t have to push the boy.”
    “He’s a man, and you’re not his mother.”
    “You’re getting awfully bold in the way you speak to me.”
    Tommy wedged his way between them and pushed them apart. He pointed at Malja, shook his head, and then motioned his hands as if rubbing away her thoughts. He cupped his ear, pointed at it, and then pointed at Fawbry.
    Though still glowering, Malja opened her mouth enough to make a few words. “Fine. What did you hear that was so out of place that you had to barge in here and ruin my evening?”
    Fawbry checked the room’s door once more. Then he said, “Secretive whispering. And your name.”
    Malja grimaced. She grabbed her coat and Viper. “Come on. Show me.”
     
     
    Outside the building, they walked around the perimeter — listening and searching. Warm air gusted through, kicking up dirt that sprinkled against the leaves of low plants and the walls of the low buildings. A few windows glowed with candlelight, but otherwise, nothing turned up.
    Fawbry threw a stick into the darkness. “You took too long arguing with me. Whoever was out here talking about you is gone.”
    Watching the darkness for movement, Malja said, “If you keep yelling at me, you’ll scare off anybody still hiding out there.”
    Leaning his back against the nearest building, Fawbry quieted down. Malja searched for any differences in the shadows, any sign of a person trying not to be seen. In the end, she shook her head and looked to Fawbry. But he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were on Tommy.
    Tommy sat near the building’s corner, his focus on his blank forearm. He looked at his arm with such intensity that Malja