Shadow Blades (The Cimmerian Cycle #2)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He knocked on the door and was met by the steward, a balding man with large ears.

Cormac put on his best voice, "I am here to see Lord Hidefield." He stood straight, trying to make himself look more important.

"Of course Sir," he said in a slow, dull voice, "right this way."

His plan was working so far.

The Steward led him into the office, "The Lord would be down shortly."

Cormac had to seat himself so that he could sit on his hands. The number of ornaments and trinkets was astounding. The walls were lined with portraits and tapestries. It took Cormac every ounce of his will power to resist the urge to slip something into his pocket. This was child's play. Everything was laid out like in a buffet of treasure, just waiting for him to come along and make his choice. The habit was so ingrained that he doubted he would never truly ever stop being a thief.

He eyed the desk nervously, noticing a solid gold paper weight on a stack of papers. How easy would it be for him to slip it into his pocket and what a price he could acquire for it on the black market.

Cormac was relieved when the door opened and Lord Hidefield walked in. Hidefield was middle aged, his black hair streaked with grey. He had a scar across his forehead and sharp eyes under his heavy eyebrows. His jaw was set.

His dark eyes showed apparent impatience and his brow furrowed as he sat down in his leather chair behind the polished desk.

"What do you want boy?" He shuffled his papers around on his desk, "I don't have all day."

Cormac swallowed. Suddenly his plan seemed like such a stupid idea.

"I should warn you that I don't do charity," he eyed Cormac's threadbare attire and messy hair. Nervously, Cormac smoothed his hair down and attempted to straighten his clothes. He should have done so before. He was going to see a nobleman after all.

"There was quite a fuss this morning," he began lightly, "I don't know if you heard, living all of the way out here, but," he paused, "Somebody tried to assassinate the queen."

Lord Hidefield froze, and then his eyes narrowed, "Please go on."

"I saw that somebody running away seconds before the alarm went out. Blood red robes. Very sure footed. Sound familiar?"

"What are you trying to get at boy?" he snapped back. He stood up in chair.

Cormac bit his tongue. What was he getting himself into?

"I'm just saying, Sir, that your little stunt didn't go unnoticed. But that was the idea all along wasn't it?" Cormac tried to make his voice sound confident but he was sure it was coming out more like a whine.

Lord Hidefield's face was slowly growing redder. He raised a furry eyebrow.

Cormac began speaking, very fast, "All I want to ask Sir ... I mean to inquire about joining the guild. If you know what I mean..." he gave a knowing glance, shifting his hands under his legs. A thin trickle of sweat worked its way down the back of his neck.

Hidefield sighed. "At least somebody figured it out... that fool of a King is so blind," then he said more to himself rather than Cormac, "But now that I have spoken these treacherous words aloud I have no choice."

Cormac was hanging on every single word with baited breath. The Lord's next words would ultimately determine his future. Hidefield sank back into his chair.