Free Sorcerer of the North by John Flanagan Page A

heavy-shouldered, with unkempt black hair and a black beard. The eyes were dark and burning with anger under heavy brows and the large nose had been broken at some time and badly reset so that it had a distinct crook in it. He wore dark clothing a jerkin and woolen trousers, and a dark brown cowled cloak. Will had never seen him before, but he knew who he was.
    "John Buttle," he said calmly. "What do you want here?"
    An unpleasant smirk touched the man's mouth as he answered. The voice was deep and throaty and his accent and manner of speech marked him as a commoner.
    "Know me, do you? Ain't that a prize."
    "I know of you," Will replied evenly. "You have a reputation around this fief."
    Buttle sneered. "Reputation! Nothing's ever been proved against me. Nothing ever will be."
    "That could be because there are never any witnesses left alive when you do your dirty work." Then Will added briskly, "Now get on with it! What are you doing sneaking around my home in the middle of the night?"
    For a moment, a puzzled look flicked across Buttle's face. Will's peremptory tone took him by surprise. After all, he was the one who was armed. The small Ranger, who he now saw looked to be still a boy, had no weapons. Oh, he did have what appeared to be an oversized knife at his hip, but Buttle would have him spitted on the spear before he could get that unsheathed. As for the blond girl, her dagger held no fears for him.
    "I've come for my dog," he said, at length. "Heard you'd stolen her and I want her back."
    He glanced at the dog as he spoke and she flattened her belly to the floor, the growling intensifying as she did so.
    "Shut up, you!" he shouted at her, but the dog only snarled more, baring her teeth at him.
    "You certainly have a way with her," Will said. He made a quick hand gesture and she quieted instantly.
    "Very clever!" Buttle sneered, now thoroughly angry. "I'll teach her manners, like I taught her last time. Little bitch tried to bite me, so I taught her."
    "With that great big spear, I suppose?" Alyss asked. "How incredibly brave of you." She leaned nonchalantly against the back of the chair she'd been sitting in, assessing the bearded man coolly. Will smiled quietly to himself at her absolute composure. Buttle, on the other hand, seemed to be enraged by it.
    "Don't come the high and mighty with me, girl!" he shouted. "Not you with your little knife and your secret Courier doings!" He lowered his voice and continued, "Got a secret assignment for our Ranger, have we? I'll bet there'll be those who'll pay to know about that."
    Will and Alyss exchanged quick glances. Buttle saw the exchange and continued, with growing confidence.
    "Oh yes, I heard you and your plotting. Rangers and Couriers, always sneaking around with secrets, aren't you? Learn to keep your voices down when John Buttle's around, you should."
    He was in control of the situation now and pleased to see that he had shattered their air of unconcern. He realized now that he had overheard something important when he had been outside the door and his criminal brain was working to see how he could profit by it. Long experience told him that when there was something that somebody wanted to keep secret, there was inevitably another somebody who would pay to know about it.
    "Oh dear," said Alyss to Will. "He seems to have overheard our conversation."
    Buttle laughed at her. "Overheard you, all right. And there's nothing you can do about it."
    Alyss seemed to consider his words for a moment, thinking them over. Then, in a very matter-of-fact way, she replied, "It seems not. Short of killing you."
    As she said the words, she flipped the long dagger, catching it by its point and taking her arm back in a smooth, flowing motion. Buttle swung instantly toward her, dropping into a defensive crouch, the spear ready to thrust...
    ... and heard a strange hiss-clunk! followed by a jarring sensation in both hands as Will's saxe knife seemed to leap from its fleece-lined scabbard.