Fable: The Balverine Order (Fable) Read Online Free

with both despair and warning. “Yes, good thing for that,” said Thomas, trying to keep the misery out of his voice and not entirely succeeding.
    She didn’t notice his tone. “Good thing,” she echoed, and then she closed her eyes and let her head slump back. She shuddered once more, and there was a rattle in her throat that Thomas recognized immediately, for he had heard it on that long-ago day in that last, final moment of his life.
    Then she was gone. And with her, she took the last dregs of Thomas’s childhood. And he had no idea what she had left behind.

Chapter 2

    JAMES SKELTON WAS A TOWHEADED lad, with a ruddy complexion and arms and legs that seemed determined to outstrip him when it came to physical development. Just when he thought he had the damned things under control, there would come another growth spurt, and suddenly he was tripping over his own feet or knocking things over with his elbows because he had turned around too quickly.
    Not that it was difficult to knock things over or find other things to trip over in James’s incredibly crowded home. Situated in one of the grimier, more run-down regions of Bowerstone Old Quarter, the house was only a notch or two above the category of “hovel,” wherein resided James, his mother, his two surviving grand-parents, a lazy bastard of an uncle, and six siblings. James was the second oldest of the brood, all of whom had been born one after the other over a period of six years. There was a permanent sense of frustration and claustrophobia in the home, and the children slept in shifts since there was insufficient bed space. All of the kids were actively employed in jobs ranging from apprentice ironsmith to apprentice beggar.
    James had, as far as he was concerned, the best job of the lot of them because he was the only one who didn’t complain about it incessantly. Not only that, but it was the only job that got him out of his section of town and into someplace that didn’t perpetually carry the stench of offal mixed with blackened air. It brought him to Millfields and the home of Thomas Kirkman. According to Thomas, their house was relatively modest compared to some of the others, but as far as James was concerned, it was nothing short of palatial.
    It was a crisp morning, the sun’s warmth not having yet done much to warm it up. These days with the seemingly permanent haze of smoke that hung over the city, the sun was oftentimes fighting to penetrate it and not always succeeding. James ran as quickly as he could, striving as always to maintain his balance since his unfortunate gawkiness presented a constant challenge to remaining upright.
    Other servants lived with their masters, but James did not reside at the Kirkman house. There were several reasons for this: They did not have a separate servant’s quarters; and Thomas’s father, when asked by his peers about the absence of live-in help, would sneer and say, “Why should I spend good money putting food into other people’s mouths? What service are they going to provide me while I sleep? Let them feed themselves breakfast and dinner and not breathe my air in their slumber.”
    So James would hurry every morning from his home, such as it was, to the Kirkman residence, to serve in Thomas’s employ and do whatever it was that Thomas required. He had operated in that capacity since both of them were quite young, and in more recent years, he had functioned less and less as a servant and more and more as Thomas’s friend. A paid friend, by all means, but a friend nevertheless.
    He was surprised to discover, on this particular morning, that the front door to the manor was standing wide open rather than closed as it normally was. The discovery was enough to cause him to slow his run to a trot, and then to a halt. It seemed odd, to be standing in front of the house that he had entered so many times and to find himself hesitating at the threshold.