Free Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga by S. M. Boyce

the oak barrels behind the bar.
    “Nice place, isn’t it?” Agneon asked.
    He turned toward Kara. Panic snaked through her chest. He couldn’t possibly see her. After being ignored in every memory thus far, she couldn’t possibly be able to interact with him. She didn’t want to, not after watching him murder all those soldiers.
    “I guess,” someone said from beside her.
    She sighed with relief and spun to see her neighbor. His salt-and-pepper beard gave her a start. Of all people—Stone sat next to her, wrapped in a brown cloak as he nursed a silver mug.
    Kara swiveled on her barstool and examined the men and women filling the pub’s tables. Swords covered most surfaces. Half of the men had a scar of some sort across his face, but almost everyone wore a dark green tunic. Some laughed and pointed at each other. Others frowned and inched their fingers toward their belts, likely in search of weapons Kara couldn’t see. This had to be an Ourean bar. The bartender stopped by and set Agneon’s drink in front of him. She winked and walked off.
    Agneon nodded to Stone. “What are you having, stranger? I’ll have to try it next.”
    Kara furrowed an eyebrow. Stranger? Unless this was Agneon’s poor attempt at humor, it had to be the memory of how he and Stone met.
    Stone sighed. “I haven’t smelled one of our kind in a while, boy, but we’re hard to mistake. I know what you are, and I have a pretty good idea of why you’re here. You might as well get to the point.”
    Agneon grinned and sipped his drink. “Works for me.”
    He reached into his shirt and set a familiar dagger on the counter. Its bright blue sheath and the brilliant gold of its hilt contrasted with the earthy undertones of the bar.
    “I’m here to kill you,” her grandfather said.
    “You’re not doing a very good job of it,” Stone answered.
    Agneon shrugged. “I don’t really want to kill you. From what I’ve heard, you deserve nothing but respect. I mean, who escapes his master? How does someone like us even achieve such a thing? But Niccoli...well, he holds grudges.”
    Stone nodded. “That he does.”
    Agneon frowned, and his grip on the beer tightened. “How did you do it? Escape, I mean.”
    “And why should I tell you?”
    “What have you got to lose?”
    “I fail to see what I have to gain from it, either.”
    Agneon leaned over his drink. “There’s nothing for you to gain. I just don’t want to kill anymore. I despise what I’ve become. I want a way out, but I can’t kill myself. I have a family. There’s no way out for me unless you tell me what to do.”
    Stone didn’t look up. He swirled his mug.
    Agneon sighed. “I should kill you and get it over with.”
    “I doubt you would get very far.”
    “You don’t know what I can do, old man.”
    “Of course I do. I know who you are. I’ve heard the rumors. Many know your name, even if they don’t survive a run-in with you. I’m surprised they let you in here.”
    “Me, too. I think everyone’s too drunk to recognize me.”
    “Yet they could any minute. Do you have a death wish?”
    Agneon hesitated. “I don’t know.”
    Stone grinned. “I hear a yes.”
    “My wife is pregnant. I can’t leave her.”
    The elder isen sighed. “Ours is not the best life for a family. I had an adopted son, once. I outlived him.”
    “I’m sorry to hear it.”
    “It’s quite all right. We still talk sometimes.”
    Agneon glanced over to Stone, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Kara laughed. Her mentor must have visited the Grimoire in the centuries before she found it. She doubted the Vagabond ever appeared for him, but Stone probably talked to the chained book anyway.
    “You’re a little odd, aren’t you?” Agneon finally asked.
    Stone grinned. “You speak your mind. I can admire that.”
    “Do you admire me enough to tell me how you escaped Niccoli?”
    “I stole a drenowith’s soul.”
    Agneon flinched, as if surprised asking a direct question had worked.