A Knight of Honor Read Online Free Page A

pursue the thieves, but she vowed she would have the ring back.   Whatever it took.
    She quickly scanned the alley, hoping they hadn’t taken everything.   The man with the missing teeth lay sprawled not five feet from her.   Her gaze shot past him, past her spilled ale, up the alley.   Where was her sword?   It wasn’t what they had been after.   Had they taken it to sell it?
    She spotted her blade lying in the shadows against the wall of the tavern and breathed a sigh of relief.
    The sudden clattering of hooves made her freeze.   She crawled into the shadows of the tavern, hoping that whomever it was would not look into this dirty alley -- and that it wasn’t some wretched God-loving knight with a penchant for doing good.   She was in enough trouble in plenty of towns as it was.
    The horses continued past the alley without stopping.   Taylor eased out of the shadows and took another look at the body only a few feet from her.   The toothless man was definitely dead, his chest still and lifeless.   Not the first man she had killed, and probably not the last.   Unless, of course, she was caught here with his blood on her blade.
    The dripping of her trickling ale caught her attention and she turned her head.   Her mug rested on its side on the crate beside her.   She reached up and grabbed it, then crawled over to her sword and took hold of it with trembling fingers.   Kneeling, she resheathed the weapon, taking four tries to get it back into its scabbard.
    She pulled herself to her feet, using the wall as support.   Mustering as much determination as she could, she willed the pain away and straightened only enough to walk toward the tavern.   Each step was agony; each footfall pounded through her entire body.
    Finally, the open doorway of the tavern loomed before her.   She stepped into the entryway and halted, leaning heavily against the wooden frame and closing her eyes against the throbbing pain that pierced every muscle in her body.
    “Sully!”
    When Taylor opened her eyes, she saw Jared sitting across the room between two buxom serving wenches.   He jumped up and rushed to her side.   Relief washed over her so completely her shoulders sagged and her entire body started to go limp.
    Taylor raised the empty mug.   “I need a refill,” she grunted before collapsing into Jared’s arms.
     
     

CHAPTER TWO
     
     
     
     
    S lane entered the Wolf’s Inn, his blue eyes narrowing immediately as he assessed the main room.   It was the kind of place that had trouble brewing around every corner, where pickpockets lurked in every dark shadow, where a killer could be bought for a shilling.   Laughter and conversation rose and fell around him.   A harlot seated near the door reached under a table and demonstrated her skills to an eager-to-learn merchant.   Four armored men sat to Slane’s right; all had the dull haze of too much ale in their red-streaked eyes.   Most of the tables were occupied by solitary figures nursing their ales or filling their bellies with steaming vegetables and mutton.   Nobody appeared to notice his presence, but he knew they were all aware of his entrance.
    “What can I do for you, m’lord?”
    Slane turned to see a short man standing beside him.
    The top of his balding head barely reached Slane’s shoulder.   “I’m looking for a man called Jared Mantle.”
    The innkeeper chortled.   “M’lord must understand that I can’t just –”
    Slane quickly produced a gold coin, silencing the man’s objections.   The innkeeper pointed a chubby finger in the direction of a back table, where two men were sitting.   Slane tossed over the gold coin and moved through the room toward the table.
    A lone candle illuminated the two figures in earnest conversation, one of them possibly a merchant -- no self- respecting tracker would wear such gaudy colors, nor tie a yellow-and-red scarf about his waist.   Slane’s eyes quickly assessed the other man’s well-worn leather