Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [45]
Arya nodded to him, not about to say anything, but he held up a hand to stop her.
"You know him, this murderer," Meris said. "This… Walker."
"We have met," replied Arya. "Briefly. He saved me from a masked attacker."
"A great Knight in Silver needed saving?" asked Meris incredulously, snidely. "This attacker must have been quite skilled to defeat you."
He sounded just a bit too proud, and Arya couldn't resist the bait. "A coward," she corrected him. "A knave who attacked from the shadows, like a filthy rat."
The corner of Meris's mouth twitched but the wild scout said nothing.
Arya felt that twitch stoke her anger, which had already been smoldering, into a hot blaze. She stepped toward Meris, hand on her sword hilt. " 'Twas fortunate Walker appeared in time," she pressed. "He saved the coward from me."
Meris eyes narrowed, and he stared at her coldly. "I doubt it," he said, his tone betraying a seething outrage.
"Meris, come!" Greyt shouted from inside the study.
"Better not disobey," Arya said to him, refusing to blink.
"I'm not the one who should be obeying, lass," Meris almost spat.
Arya did not back down. "I do not fear you, cousin," she said. Then, leaving him with the implicit challenge, she turned and walked away.
Meris allowed the tiniest of smiles to creep onto his face. "I doubt that also," Arya heard him whisper. "I doubt that very much."
"Now!" came Greyt's shout.
Meris turned and entered the study, allowing the door to swing closed behind him.
* * * * *
Greyt was standing in front of the desk, awaiting him. Books on high shelves surrounded the Lord Singer, and he was holding one in his hand, idly scanning through the lines of text.
"Father," greeted Meris as he walked up to the Lord Singer.
Greyt greeted the dusky-skinned youth with a vicious slap to the cheek. Meris reeled, stunned, and looked back up at his father in shock.
"You lazy, incompetent fool!" Greyt shouted. "Your lax patrolling of the Moonwood has jeopardized our plans!" He slapped the book against the wall, and the pages fluttered all around.
"Really, Father…" Meris started.
"And now, right when opportunity knocks, when Stonar-" The words dissolved into a snarl, and he glared at Meris. "How can you be such an idiot, to attack her in the very street? Have I not done enough for you? I've turned a blind eye to your indiscretions for years, even ignored the untimely deaths of your siblings. Of all my blood, you were the only one worthy of my legacy, and this is how you repay me? With betrayal?"
"Father!" Meris growled.
Greyt slapped him again. "How like an ignorant child you are! Incapable of controlling your own base desires. You sicken me."
Meris stared at his father in shock, then anger, and assumed a sullen expression. Though he was outwardly chastened, his rage burned. Meris's fingers itched to clasp his sword. He admired his father, true, but Greyt could not escape a measure of his contempt-probably as much contempt as Greyt felt for Meris in return.
Still, the wild scout stayed his hand, once again aware of that same nervous suspicion that had protected Greyt from his rage thus far. Meris never ignored this feeling, a sense that he was walking into a trap. There was something Greyt was hiding, some protection the Lord Singer kept hidden, and that dissuaded Meris from attacking him.
"Whatever I can do to make amends, Father," Meris said. "Merely speak the word, and it shall be done."
"Watch over the house of Bilgren tonight," Greyt said. "I fear he will be next to suffer Walker's ire. He is the last of the Raven Claw band, and that may be-"
"Except yourself," clarified Meris. When Greyt frowned, Meris reiterated it. "The last except yourself."
Greyt looked at him none-too-pleasantly. "Go to Bilgren and make him wary," he said. "I doubt even the barbarian's fanciful weapon-that gyrspike, or whatever it is-will be enough to save him. Protect him the night through, and prove yourself true."
Meris accepted the rhyme with a grimace.
"And continue the search for Stonar's supporters," said Greyt. "The druids are our enemies