Free Fable: The Balverine Order (Fable) by Peter David Page A

was to be gained from doing so? What was the crone going to do? Sound an alarm?
    Far better to just get out of there as quickly as possible.
    He moved through the towering shelves, his thoughts racing far more quickly than he was able to keep up with them, and suddenly a figure stepped from the shadows into his path. Once again, he started to go for his sword until a familiar voice said, “I’m sorry, James, did I startle you?”
    â€œ No! No, not at all, Thomas,” said James, trying not to let any sound of trembling be evident in his voice. “I was just ... I—”
    Thomas put out a hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
    â€œOh. Well . . . all right,” said James, and he shook Thomas’s hand firmly.
    â€œNo, it’s not all right. You’re my only true friend in the world, James, and you deserve better treatment than that.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.”
    â€œYou won’t be leaving?”
    â€œOf course not. If I did, who would you have that you could abuse?”
    â€œThat’s very true.” Thomas said it with a straight face, but he wasn’t able to maintain it, and they both broke into laughter. He draped an arm around James’s shoulders. “Come. I’ll buy you as decent a meal as this rathole of a city can provide, and tomorrow we’ll get out of here.” He glanced around. “Have you seen that nice Librarian guy? We should really thank him for his help.”
    â€œWe don’t need to thank him for anything, actually,” said James. “Come, I’ll tell you over a drink because drink always makes the incredible far more credible.”

Chapter 5

    THE INN WAS REASONABLY BUSY THAT evening. Hardened travelers sat at the tables, chewing on what passed for meat in the place. There was one traveler who seemed to stand out among the others, though, as least as far as Thomas was concerned. He was seated toward the corner, his back firmly against the wall. He didn’t appear focused on any individual; instead, he seemed to be watching everyone there all at the same time. He resembled to Thomas nothing so much as a snake that was basking on a rock, prepared to strike at any time but otherwise perfectly content to be left alone. He appeared middle-aged, and he had a narrow, hawklike face with a high forehead and thin hair graying at the temples. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he were partly asleep, yet for some reason Thomas had no doubt that he was entirely awake. His hands were resting lightly on a tapered black walking stick. His clothes were of a higher caliber than others around him. For one thing, they were freshly laundered, and the black material was fine rather than coarse. Cotton or perhaps even silk although Thomas didn’t exactly have an expert’s eye for such things. A gray greatcoat was draped over the chair next to him. He looked as out of place there as the boys themselves, but Thomas wasn’t going to worry about him if he didn’t appear to be presenting any manner of threat.
    Thomas looked down at the plate piled with thin, barely cooked strips of meat, which was identical to the serving placed in front of James. As the serving wench turned away, wiping her hands on her apron, Thomas said, “Excuse me.” She turned back to face him with ill-concealed annoyance. “Just out of morbid curiosity, what sort of meat is this exactly?”
    â€œSnow cat,” she said. “Fresh killed. Eat it and like it.” Shaking her head in a way that made it clear that she didn’t gladly suffer fools—or anyone, really—she walked away from them, leaving them staring at the unappetizing repast.
    â€œThink it’s the same one that tried to kill us?” said James. “That would explain why the beast wasn’t where we left it on the stairs. Someone found it and—”
    â€œAnd brought it here. Makes as much