Read Lady Of Regret (Book 2) for Free Online

back.”
    As Loro had seemed so eager before, that suggestion surprised Rathe. “Why should we?”
    “If you’ve missed it, brother, this codger is off his head. I don’t trust him, even if my belly does.”
    “My trust has grown thin of late, as well,” Rathe agreed. “But he’s an old man, and a short way from being a cripple. He’ll not trouble us.”
    “I’ll eat his food quick enough,” Loro relented, “and give thanks for whatever Tulfa provides. Afterward, we’ll have to keep a watch, lest he decides to drub us in our sleep and rob us.”
    Tulfa poked his head round the corner, his face lost in shadow. “Come along, friends! Come along!”
    “I’ll take first watch,” Rathe volunteered, and strode into the chamber.
    He had scarcely crossed the threshold when he halted. With a murmur of awe, Loro joined him. Rathe had expected an empty chamber, but found a colonnaded great hall fit for a wealthy lord. Gleaming bronze lampstands drove back all shadows. Tapestries, moth-eaten though they were, adorned soaring walls with scenes of the hunt and forgotten battles. Assorted banners emblazoned with unfamiliar coats of arms hung from stone balusters that girded high galleries. Some showed extreme age, their colors faded, looking as if they would crumble at the gentlest touch. Others were fresher, smeared with dark maroon smudges that brought to mind bloodstains.
    Rathe looked to the long table running between two rows of pillars. The high-backed chairs guarding its flanks stood empty. Table and chairs had been polished to a low gleam. Farther on, a smaller table sat atop a broad dais spanning the breadth of the hall. The table’s gilded legs glowed with a dreamlike quality, but those who clambered over the top of it were creatures of nightmare.
    “Gods and demons,” Loro gasped, as Tulfa joined what could only be his relations at the high table.
    Tulfa looked around. “Come, friends! Come and feast!”
    Rathe did not move. The folk gathered about Tulfa, a dozen at least, wore filthy rags, or nothing at all. Forgoing chairs, they squatted on the tabletop. Hunched over, growling amongst themselves, they made busy rending strips of meat snatched from heaped platters. One of the shadowkin looked up—a woman, Rathe thought, but would not have wagered on it. Her twisted fingers paused halfway to her mouth. Grease mingled with dirt on her cheeks and chin, giving her a gruesome aspect. She made a series of throaty noises, and Tulfa hooted laughter, as if hearing a fine jest.
    About to decline Tulfa’s offer, Rathe’s teeth clicked together when two bent figures moved through a doorway, carrying between them a tarnished bronze serving tray near as large as a palanquin. Tulfa danced amongst the shadowkin, waving his staff overhead. “Another course! Yes! Yes! Meat on the bone!”
    “Is that a….” Loro trailed off before he could finish putting a name to the roasted horror laid out on the tray.
    “It is,” Rathe answered, throat burning with bile. His sword flashed from the scabbard.
    Tulfa noted the bared steel, and his kindly nature vanished. He scuttled to the end of the table, perched there, a humpbacked fiend with white-blue eyes and too many teeth, all streaked black and sharp. His tongue, grossly long and pointed, licked over his bottom lip. “Come, friends, and feast with Tulfa!” This time his was no reedy invitation, but a growled command.
    The two men carrying the serving tray placed it on the table at Tulfa’s feet, their movements reverent.
    “We are leaving,” Rathe said, voice edged with warning. In case that was not enough, he added, “Follow us, and I will carve your bowels.””
    Tulfa cackled merrily. “’Tis giblets you crave?” His gnarled fingers danced lightly over the crispy brown belly of the man’s torso on the serving tray, then stabbed into that obscene flesh, rooted about, and tugged free gray-pink loops of steaming entrails. “Then ‘tis giblets you shall have!