Read Fable: The Balverine Order (Fable) for Free Online

. you get lost in the marketplace. Hell, you’ve gotten lost in your own house.”
    â€œOnly that one time,” Thomas said defensively.
    Ignoring him, James continued, “I, on the other hand, have a superb sense of direction. I always have. And if you’re going on any sort of trip, and you have the slightest hope of not getting lost, you’re going to need someone at your side who—at the very least—can keep ‘east’ consistently in his head and his feet on the right path. Besides, you think I don’t want to see a balverine? Or a hobbe, or a hollow man, or a kraken or whatever other creatures are out there that anyone in his right mind would be running from rather than seeking out? You think I don’t want to see a genuine Hero? You think I want to spend my whole life in this place? Besides, if by some chance you manage to find your way, survive, and make it back here, I’m going to have to listen to your endless tales of adventure. To hell with that. So unless you’ve got a better reason for my not coming, like maybe that you’re tired of my company . . .”
    â€œWe have known each other forever, James, and I have never tired of your company,” said Thomas. “But . . . what of your family? You’re simply going to take off?”
    â€œIf you can take leave of your senses, I can take leave of my family. Frankly, it’ll be amazing if anyone in my family notices that I’m gone.” He shrugged. “One less mouth to feed.”
    The two young men stood there for a time, regarding each other, sizing each other up. The one who had come of age, and the other who—if matters did not turn out as they hoped—might not live to reach that mile-stone. Then Thomas stretched out his hand, palm up, and James reached out and gripped Thomas’s forearm firmly. Thomas likewise returned the grasp, and they shook once on it.
    â€œDo you need to return home? To get your things?”
    â€œI come from a poor household. I’ve nothing worth taking.”
    â€œThen wait a moment.” Thomas went back into the house and emerged a few minutes later with a traveling cloak and a short sword. “Here. My father’s. I doubt he’ll miss them, and even if he does . . .”
    â€œIt is better to ask forgiveness after the fact than to ask permission and be denied?”
    â€œPretty much. So . . . east?”
    â€œEast,” James said firmly.

    â€œAND DO THEY INDEED EMBARK ON AN easterly course?”
    The odd man who is telling me this tale gives me a quizzical look. “If they did not, Your Majesty, then it would not be much of a tale, now, would it.”
    â€œNo. No, I fancy that it would not. I am curious, though, about how you know of it. Of how you know the conversations that the lads had, the very thoughts that run through their minds.”
    â€œYou have asked me that already, but because you are king and are due all deference, I shall reiterate: For the purposes of this tale, I am omniscient. There is nothing connected to this adventure that is not known to me.”
    â€œAnd how came you by all this knowledge? Who are you? Or are you more ‘what’ than ‘who’?”
    â€œI am nothing more and nothing less than what you see. Now . . . may I continue?”
    I feel a faint coldness in my arm and shake it briskly. It dissipates as if embarrassed that I have taken notice of it. Then I stare at my hand for a time. This prompts the storyteller to regard me with curiosity, and prompt, “Majesty—?”
    â€œThere were some who claimed,” I tell him, “that when a Hero walks down the street, they could tell he was a Hero because he was surrounded with a glow.”
    â€œA glow?”
    â€œYes. A soft radiance that might have been shone down from above or radiated from within; it was hard to determine which it was. And you could tell just by looking that this was someone who