The Miscreant (An Assassin's Blade Book 2) - Plot & Excerpts
Some call themselves freedom fighters, rebels, anti-insert-authority-name-here, or whatever other fancy moniker they prefer. In the case of those who oppose Glannondil rule, I called them my friends. I’d been to five hovels in an attempt to recruit a few friends. This was my sixth and, finally, I’d found a promising one. Wasn’t much more than a hole in the wall, some battered shack twenty miles from Erior. It lay on the low roads, beneath the high paths above that had been smoothed over by the marching Glannondil army over the years. You didn’t have to worry much about the crimson wolf prowling around here, at least not without due warning. An assembly of drunks made a toast, one mug rising to meet another in a furious showing that wimpled the starved candlelight. They downed their ale with the harmony of rhythmic dancers. I nursed my ale, taking stock of the scene. A few men gathered at a rustic table, red twine tied around the swords on their hips.
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