Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, #5) - K.F. Breene Page 0,60

S’am did,” Xavier said in a rough voice that was filled with pain.

“Rohnan was positive the family would share with their village people.” Alena adjusted her shawl and then resituated her pack.

“Rohnan can’t tell the future,” Xavier said. “Why share with their townspeople when a sackful of gold will buy them an entirely new life? Away from the Graygual. They’ll have their kids to think about. No, she should’ve just given them one gold piece like they asked.” He groaned. “God, Maggie, did you really need to put so much weight behind that kick?”

“By now they’ll know that there is nowhere away from the Graygual,” Maggie said.

“Shut up!” Leilius lifted his eyes enough to see the drawbridge not far away. The boards were weathered and discolored, sturdy enough for holding people, but a battering ram would take it down easily. Of course, getting a battering ram over a twenty-foot gap wouldn’t be easy.

A Graygual from the wall looked down on them for a brief moment as they stepped onto the boards leading over a swampy mess of water. Their feet made dull thuds as they crossed into enemy domain. A beady-eyed Graygual looked Leilius over before moving on to the others. He grabbed Leilius’ sack and pulled it open. A moment later he checked out the others, yanking the edge of the fabric harshly. When he reached Xavier, the guard paused, his eyes scanning Xavier’s width of shoulder. Without warning, he gave Xavier a solid shove.

The knife burnt on Leilius’ hip, itching to be brought out of hiding and stuck in that guard. Blood pounded in his ears, fear gearing his body to run.

Xavier staggered and hit the wall, groaning. The large man cowered for a moment, catching his breath. He’d never been a good actor, so this proved that Maggie had indeed kicked him a little too hard. Good thing for it.

The guard barked a couple of words and threw his thumb over his shoulder. It stupidly occurred to Leilius that none of them spoke the common language in this land, nor did they speak Graygual. How the hell would they communicate?

Before Leilius could glance back to make sure everyone was accounted for, the clomp, clomp of hooves on cobblestone caught his attention. Coming their way were two large, shiny stallions pulling a grandiose coach. The coach driver sat primly, dressed in tailored silks.

The driver yelled something, his harsh voice hinting at vulgarity rather than high class. His scowl had Leilius moving to the side and hunching. Alena bumped into him a moment later, muttering an apology and scurrying to his other side.

“They have dirt-poor farmers feeding the nobility. Disgusting.” Maggie’s eyes flashed.

“Welcome to the real world.” Xavier’s stiff walk perfectly toned down his large frame. “That’s how things work in places like this.”

“The Captain will sort it out. C’mon.” Leilius motioned them away from the crowd and into a large street. He skirted to the side quickly, slinking into darker patches beside buildings. “Let’s get to cover and we’ll figure out what to do next.”

People of all types wandered the streets, from the downtrodden, bringing in their meager wares to try and get a day’s bread, to the hard-eyed merchants looking to fatten their purses. Occasionally men in tailored clothes walked ahead of fine ladies and men, pushing and shoving people to make room for the rich folk. Their eyes were vicious and their manners coarse, much like the driver they’d just seen. Those in their path quickly scurried out of the way or were subject to a rap on the head and tossed to the side.

One such man, his fat stomach pulling at the seams of his bright blue garment, yelled at an older woman in his way. The woman, a frail thing leaning heavily on a cane, gave a start and immediately tried to shuffle toward the wall. Other people had already made the move, however. She hesitated, looking around her, trying to escape.

He yelled again before baring his teeth.

“We have to help her.” Xavier took a hasty step toward her.

“They’d report us!” Ruisa punched Xavier to stop him as the servant in blue bore down on the old woman.

In a fit of violence, the servant swung the back of his hand across her face. The force whipped her head around. Her body crumpled. Her cane skittered across the street, and under the feet of the crowd hurrying by.

The servant walked on with a sour look. A lady dressed in the same blue, with a dress