Read When Demons Walk for Free Online

their eyes on Sham. She carefully kept her arms well away from her body so she presented little threat.
    Scarf put the torch he held in one of the empty wall brackets and motioned to the Southwoodsman to do the same with the second torch. Scratching at his forehead, Scarf turned in a full circle to assess the room again before letting his gaze come to rest on Sham.
    â€œAltis’s blood, Sham—when you decide to kill a bastard, you have a right pretty touch.” He hawked and spat—a tribute of sorts, thought Sham once she’d deciphered his fragmented Southern.
    Before she could answer, a fifth man walked into the room, this one dressed in the garb of a nobleman. She took a step back at the wide smile on his face.
    Scarf looked up and spoke in his native Cybellian. “Lord Hirkin, sir, I think you’ll find this one more helpful than the others. This is Sham the thief—I’ve heard the Shark watches out for him.”
    â€œGood, good,” said Lord Hirkin, the man who ruled of the guardsmen of Purgatory.
    He made a gesture toward Sham and Scarf stepped behind her, securing her by wrapping his massive hands around her upper arms.
    Tide save her, Sham thought, this wasn’t going to be easy after all. She set her grief aside for later, turning all her attention to the situation at hand.
    â€œI have been looking for just such a murdering thief,” Hirkin continued, switching to Southern for Sham’s benefit. “This man who calls himself the Shark. You will tell me where to find him.”
    Sham raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know where he stays; no one does. If you want him, leave a message with one of the Whisperers.”
    Actually she was probably the only person outside of the Shark’s gang, the Whisper of the Street, who did know where the Shark was most of the time, but she had no intention of sharing that information with anyone. The Shark had his own ways of dealing with such problems: Methods bound to be much nastier than anything this man could dream up—besides, he was a friend.
    Hirkin shook his head with mock sadness and turned away to address the three guardsmen behind him. “It always takes so long —” he spun on his heel and backhanded her across the mouth “—to get any truth out of Southwood scum—too stupid for their own good. Perhaps I ought to turn you over to my man here.” He nodded at the cadaverous one who smiled evilly, revealing a missing tooth. “He likes boys about your size. The last one he got to play with I killed afterwards—out of mercy.”
    Sham looked suitably impressed by Hirkin’s threats: that is, not at all. She snorted and smirked around her cut lip. She had learned early that the scent of fear only excited jackals and made them more vicious.
    â€œI’ve heard about that one,” she commented with a jerk of her chin toward the guard that Hirkin had indicated. “Whisper has it that he can’t tie his own shoes without help. Throw me to him and you might find the pieces of him afterward.”
    She was expecting the next blow and turned her head with the strike, averting some of the force. They hadn’t searched her for weapons. Her dagger lay where she had thrown it, but several of her thieving tools were almost as sharp. Scarf’s grip wasn’t as secure as he thought it was—not when he held a wizard. She just had to pick the best time to make her move.
    Watching the proceedings, Talbot, the lone Southwoodsman guard, ground his teeth. This was the fourth such beating this night. The first two he’d only heard about. The third one he’d come upon after the victim was already dead.It wasn’t that he had trouble with a beating or two in the name of justice, but this interrogation had nothing to do with the body lying forgotten in the corner of the room—no way a lad that size could rip a door out of the frame that way. Then too, the sight