Read The Traitor's Heir for Free Online Page B

didn’t know how long he stood there trying to grasp the fullness of what was on his hand; certainly it was long enough for his fingers to grow numb and pale with the increasing cold.
    At the sound of footsteps coming towards him, he quickly tucked his hands away.
    â€œGoodman!” It was Ensign Offley Barns.
    â€œMr Barns?”
    â€œDuty calls,” Barns told him. “The captain wants us for an arrest.”
    Nodding, Eamon hurried to the young man and matched pace with him. He tried to steal a glance at his companion’s hands, but they were gloved. He wondered if they had both been given the same mark.
    As he was about to try to draw Barns on the subject they turned up Bury’s Hill. The windows of the Morning Star were all but obscured by a dozen men, all in Gauntlet uniform, standing outside it.
    Eamon froze. “The inn?”
    â€œWayfarer trouble, the captain said. Maybe even something to do with last night.”
    â€œWayfarer?”
    The word was dead on Eamon’s lips as they reached the inn. A crowd of evicted men and women stood huddled to one side, some still nursing mugs of beer in their hands and sullen looks on their faces. Eamon saw curious eyes peering from every window and door along the street.
    â€œMove along, move along!” yelled an officer. The man emerged from the empty inn and cleared a path before the door. More soldiers followed him. Two dragged between them a man whom Eamon did not recognize at first. He seemed middle-aged; his dishevelled hair was turning grey at the roots and his jaw was thick with untidy stubble. His shirt was torn and his left arm was bound tightly in a clean bandage.
    Eamon gaped. Suddenly he saw again the bleeding man huddled among the tree roots, felt the impact of the man who had attacked him, remembered drawing his blade across the arm that had seized him…
    Then he remembered the blood he had seen on Telo’s arm that morning, and understood.
    Two more soldiers emerged from the besieged inn. The innkeeper himself, bound, strode defiantly between them. Belaal came after them, a dark, satisfied smile on his face.
    â€œTelo, Telo!” The now captured fugitive called in desperation, as though blinded.
    â€œI’m here, Wystan,” Telo answered, his voice bewitchingly confident. “I’m right here with you.”
    â€œThese men are traitors to the Master,” Belaal called, addressing the gathered onlookers. “They will be paid in the coin by which they pay.”
    He turned to his officers and ensigns, barking orders to them that were swiftly obeyed. Eamon did not hear them. Aeryn’s father and the man called Wystan were dragged roughly down the hill.
    Stunned, Eamon watched them. Telo… a traitor?
    â€œGoodman!”
    Eamon looked up. Belaal stood not a pace away from him.
    â€œSir, I think there must be some mistake,” Eamon began. “I know this man –”
    Belaal’s eyes flashed in the torchlight. “I will not hear excuses for a snake from the mouth of a sworn man,” he hissed, stabbing at him viciously with a gloved finger. “You’re Gauntlet, Goodman; act like it.”
    Eamon felt his throat constricting. “Yes, sir.”
    Belaal held his gaze. “Go down to the square. We’ll light them both before the moon rises.”
    Eamon remained rooted to the spot, wishing that he could misunderstand the command. Belaal raised an irate eyebrow, then turned to the man next to him. “Mr Barns,” he snarled.
    Barns had none of Eamon’s qualms. “Sir.”
    â€œTake your friend Goodman to the square and see to it that he does his job. You both know where the necessary tools are.”
    â€œYes, sir.” Barns gave Eamon a shove. “Let’s go, Goodman.”
    Numbly, Eamon walked down the hill in the wake of the arrested men. He knew full well what tools Belaal meant. He swallowed down his horror.
    The innkeeper might not