Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Available now from Mercedes Lackey and Titan Books
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Exile’s Honor: Book One of Exiles of Valdemar
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part One: Exile’s Choice
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- Part Two: The Tedrel Wars
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- Part Three: The Last Battle
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- Epilogue
- Exile’s Valor: Book Two of Exiles of Valdemar
- Dedication
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- Take a Thief: Book Three of Exiles of Valdemar
- Dedication
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- About the Author
- Also Available from Titan Books and Mercedes Lackey
Skif didn’t, couldn’t see how it happened. One moment, Alberich was still extended in his lunge; the next, the Guildmaster had him pinned somehow, trapped. The Guildmaster’s back was to the wall, his arm was across Alberich’s throat with Alberich’s body protecting his. Both of Alberich’s hands were free, and he clawed ineffectually at the arm across his throat. The Weaponsmaster’s face was already turning an unhealthy shade of pale blue.
“Kash,” the Guildmaster said, in a tight voice. “Get the brat.”
But the last man was in no condition to grab anyone. “Can’t,” he coughed. “Leg’s out.”
Given the fact that his leg had been opened from thigh to knee, with Alberich’s dagger still in the wound, he had a point. The Guildmaster’s gaze snapped back onto Skif.
“Well,” he said, in that condescending voice he’d used with Jass, “I wouldn’t have expected the Heralds to use bait. It’s not like them to put a child in danger.”
Skif bristled. “Ain’t a child,” he said flatly.
“Oh? You’re a little young to be a Herald,” the man countered in a sarcastic tone. Then he punched Alberich’s shoulder wound with his free hand, making him gasp, and putting a stop to Alberich’s attempts to claw himself free. “Stop that. You’re only making things more difficult for yourself.”
“What has age to do with being a Herald?” Alberich rasped.
Skif said nothing, and the man’s eyes narrowed as his arm tightened a little more on Alberich’s throat. “Be still, or I will snap your foolish neck for you. A Trainee, then. But still—that’s quite out of character—unless—”
He stared at Skif then, with a calculating expression, and Skif sensed that he was thinking very hard, very hard indeed.
It was, after all, no secret that the latest Trainee was a thief. But what that would mean to this wealthy villain—and whether he’d heard that—
Then the Guildmaster’s eyes widened. “Well,” he said, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. “Who would have thought it. The Heralds making common cause with a common thief. Oh, excuse me—you’re quite an uncommon thief. Old Bazie’s boy, aren’t you? Skif, is it?”
Skif went cold with shock and stared at the Guildmaster with his mouth dropping open. How’d he know how—
The Guildmaster smirked. “I make it my business to know what goes on in my properties, as any good landlord would,” he said pointedly. “Besides, how do you think that cleverly hidden room got there? Who do you think arranged for the pump and the privy down there?”
“But you killed him!” Skif cried, as Alberich tried to move and turned a little bluer for his trouble.