Aftermath- - Thieves World 10 Read Online Free Page A

this . . . She shook her head violently. If it would just go away for a while. The harsh visions scarring her memory like blood staining the walls, drying slowly, coveruig everything, everywhere . . . Sarah was startled by the loud thump thump of someone banging on the door-She got up, adjusting her clothes. But it wouldn't be Marissa;
    ^ had just left. Carefully she opened the door.
    The sun was bright that morning and it streamed through the doorAFTERMATH
    way, leaving her visitor in backlit shadow. He was tall, with broad shoulders, his armor glinting. For a minute she thought it was the guard captain Walegrin. He had actually been kind to her, almost gentle. Her thoughts jumped. News, did they have news? Who did it . . . ? But no, Walegrin was even larger than this man, taller, more muscular.
    "Sarah," he said, and his voice was full of strange emotions. But there was something about him. Something. He stepped farther out of the shadows and she felt a sharp pain.
    Terrel, she almost said. It was there in his face, though Terrel had never had such scars. This man's skin was tanned, weathered, hard like his armor and body.
    "Cade," she whispered. He had come. He was here. For a moment he seemed at a loss-He seemed to retreat into shadow, but there was the memory of Terrel in that face.
    "I wish to come in," Cade said.
    "Oh, of course, please come in. I'm sorry, I was so startled, I mean, please come in." He moved past her, his weapons and armor jingling slightly.
    "You should look to see who is at the door before you open it," he said.
    "Yes, I should, I suppose, I mean. Do you want anything? To drink, or . . ." Her voice trailed off, her confusion overwhelming her. He turned to look at her.
    She was attractive in a way. Her face was round, but thin. Her features seemed somehow disjointed, as if a thin veil covered them. Her eyes darted about, not meeting his gaze. But they were her best feature. Brown in an ordinary way, now filled with knowledge and taut pain. She was pretty, her bare shoulder showing in the disarrayed dress. She was pretty. The thought surprised him. It was the sadness, always the sadness-When he saw it in women he could never turn from it, never ignore it; it always made them so pretty. He hoped his vengeance would cause her no more . . . sadness.
    "I'm sorry," he said quietly. They both knew what he meant.
    "Wine?" she asked, letting the moment pass.
    "Wine." He followed her into the dining area, seating himself at the scarred wooden table. She handed him a goblet, the best she had. He poured the wine; the sound of the goblet filling reverberated loudly in the
    room. He put the decanter down, not looking at her, not touching the drink.
    "You said in your letter," his voice was husky, "you said that Terrel was involved with the PFLS."
    "I, Terrel . . ." She bowed her head. "I, yes. He ... helped."
    "Money?"

CADE 23
    "A little. He didn't like the Rankans"—her voice got softer—"but he wasn't really involved, not in a ... he didn't deserve . . ." but it was too much and she could say no more.
    "I'm sorry," he said again. "Neither of us like Rankans. Mother always said they killed our father. He wore this."—he touched his warbraid—"my father did."
    "Cade." She dared to look up, but couldn't meet his steady gaze.
    "Terrel, he—" She stopped. Could you talk of love to such a man?
    Cade stood up. "I will get my things. You have a room for me?" She just nodded. "Good. Sarah, we will talk later. I am here. I cannot take away what has happened, but I am here. You need never fear." With that he was gone. She sat there staring at the goblet. She should get up, show
    him the room, the room she had prepared, prepared months ago, but he would find it, know it was for him.
    The dim light from the window glinted off the enamel overlay of the goblet. He was . . . Terrel had never said much about Cade, not Cade as a man. He was full of stories of their childhood, of the slow decline into poverty, of the family