Lord of the Rose Read Online Free

drawing ale into a couple of mugs and set them down in front of the two knights, both of whom wore the emblem of the Rose. A miserable-looking goblin, his mouth gagged with a filthy rag while his wrists and ankles were shackled with stout metal manacles, huddled at the feet of one of the Solamnics. The creature was hunched over, holding something small in its clawed hands.
    “All right, dwarf spirits—and you?” She looked at the warrior impatiently.
    “Do you have any of that red ale from Coastlund?”
    She snorted. “I got mead from Thelgaard and yellow ale from Solanthus.”
    “Well then, give me dwarf spirits, too. A double shot.”
    She slammed down two small, clay glasses and hoisted a jug from behind the bar. It was clearly heavy, but she held it steadily as she trickled each glass full. When they were topped off, she set down the jug, pushed the glasses across the bar and left to wait on a raucous draconian at the other end of the bar.
    “Lively place,” the dwarf remarked. He tossed back half of his glass and smacked his lips.
    “Yep,” the warrior replied. He took a sip from his own glass and winced as the fire ran across his tongue and down his gullet. “Cornellus always has a wild bunch around.”
    They leaned back and watched the musical entertainment for a few minutes. The minstrel was an elf, dressed in patched leather leggings and a threadbare cloak. He alternated between his flute and a mandolin, but whenever his tune verged on melodious the hill dwarves would jeer him into making a mistake,and then the whole room would erupt in laughter.
    “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The speaker was the nearer Knight of Solamnia. He had finished his mug and was pulling on his riding gloves as he stonily addressed the warrior. “This is a long way from any place.”
    “Easy enough to find,” the warrior replied.
    “You look familiar, though. Ever been through Sanction?” asked the knight, scrutinizing the whiskered, weather-beaten face.
    The rider shook his head.
    “What about Caergoth? I spend lots of time there, in the Ducal Guard. You one of Duke Crawford’s men?”
    “Nope.” The stranger took a sip of his spirits.
    “Cleaning out the riff-raff?” the dwarf asked the knight, nudging the shackled goblin with his foot. The wretched creature looked up apathetically then lowered his head. In his shackled hands he held a chip of stone, a greenish quartz, clutching the shard to his breast like it was great treasure.
    “A rabble-rouser,” said the second knight from behind the first. “Preaching about Hiddukel to all the gobs in the hills. We’re taking him in for a talk with the duke.” He laughed mirthlessly.
    The first knight stared at the human warrior until his companion, also gloved, tapped him on the shoulder. Each of them took hold of the hobgoblin’s wrist cuffs and pulled the creature roughly to his feet. Side by side, one watching to the right and the other left, they walked to the door, yanking the hobgoblin behind them.
    “Some nerve, their kind coming up here,” snapped the hag of a barmaid, returning to meet their eyes. She unleashed a toothless grin at the warrior. “Act like they own the place! Still, that Reynaud was looking you over, all right. Like he reckanized you from somewheres …”
    The man shrugged.
    “Bah, frightened of shadows, them knights,” said the dwarf, extending his glass for a refill.
    The crone poured. “Cornel don’t have no use for them knights either, but he tolerates their business. To keep the peace, you know. Still, that hob was a good enough customer. Never bothered no one. Just sat there and rubbed his green stone—sometimes he’d rub it so hard it glowed!”
    “Yeah, Cornellus. Now that you mention it, we need to see him,” the warrior said softly.
    She blinked and cocked her head as if she hadn’t heard right. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned over the bar. “Be careful what you ask for. You just might see up him up