Free The Thief King: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Two by Craig R. Saunders, Craig Saunders

No one was foolish enough to step outside on a day like this.
                A
stream that ran alongside the hamlet had burst its banks long ago. It looked
almost like a small river. Roskel was glad that he didn’t have to cross it. It
ran off to the north, perhaps joining the river Frana at some point in its
meandering future.
                He
dismounted as he reached the centre of the hamlet, and sighed with great relief
as he sploshed along the river road to a sign at the end of the hamlet. In the
dim light he had to strain, but it seemed to read ‘Year’s End’.
                He
walked round to the back and found a single stable, with no stable hand. He
stripped and wiped down the mare with a handful of straw and put some hay on
the ground for her. He was dog tired, from having no sleep and his joints and
muscles seemed to scream with the fugue, a growing chill that would take a good
fire and a warm meal to chase away. No matter how tired a man was, though, if
he was wise he would see to his horse first.
                He
left Minstrel, who seemed happy enough to be out of the rain, and headed to the
front door of the inn.
                It
was a one-story affair, shuttered windows and wooden tiles, well-weathered,
upon the roof. He hoped it was safe. He was almost ready to drop.
                He
pushed the door open and entered, having to duck to avoid knocking himself out
on the low door.
                There
was only the proprietor in the place, his feet up in front of a small fire. He
jumped up as the door closed. Roskel fired a sneeze and held up a hand in
greeting.
                'Please
tell me you have a room to spare.'
                The
man was quite old but showed a surprising turn of speed as he stood and came to
guide Roskel to the fire.
                'Come,
come by the warmth! You must be freezing.'
                He
smiled, showing a gap or two where teeth should have been. 'What are you doing
out in this? Damn fool bard.'
                'Don’t
mind me,' said Roskel, easing himself gratefully into a chair by the fire.
Water was already pooling around his feet on the flagstones.
                'And
don’t you mind me. What am I thinking? Berating a paying customer…you are a
paying customer, aren’t you?' he added warily.
                Roskel
laughed. He felt he could manage that.
                'Yes,
I am. And I’ll pay well for a warm meal and a spot of chait, if you have the
makings of it.'
                'Best
there you’ll ever taste!' the keeper said, his manner suddenly perking up at
the mention of money. 'There, you just rest your bones and I’ll set about
feeding you. I’ve two rooms and you can take your pick. It’s not often I see a
traveller these days, what with the troubles and all, but you’re welcome to
what I’ve got.'
                The
man bustled about, stripping Roskel’s wet cloak and hanging it over a chair in
front of the fire. Thankfully, he did not try to strip anything else. His good
graces obviously only extended so far, thought Roskel with a grin.
                The
thief set about making himself comfortable. It was fortuitous indeed to find an
inn this far off the beaten track. The fire crackled with welcoming warmth and
he felt some of the numbness begin to leave his muscles. Troublingly, as he
breathed there seemed to be some fluid shifting in his chest. He coughed and
spat phlegm into the fire.
                Perhaps
his luck hadn’t held after all.
                Roskel
tried to rub some life back into his arms. He couldn’t wait to dry his clothes
and crawl into a bed. If he could think of a way to do it, he’d take a burning
log from the fire and sleep on that.
                The
proprietor came back with a cauldron full of some kind of stew. No doubt a
couple of