The Outcast (Summoner #4)(38)

“Well, glad that’s all sorted,” Edmund said, tossing the Mite into the air, the scroll tied to its back. “Right, Zacharias, get your lazy arse out here. Daylight is fading. We’ve a few hours of hunting before it’s time to turn in. I’ve got a craving for fresh gazelle haunch.”

“But … I want to get dressed for dinner,” Josephine said plaintively as Zacharias stumbled from his carriage.

“No buts!” Edmund said, beckoning a nearby servant over. “Fetch the crossbows, there’s a good lad. We’ll be feeding half the town tonight with any luck.”

“Right you are, my lord,” the servant said, scurrying off into a nearby building.

“We’re coming back as soon as it gets dark,” Alice said, looking worriedly at Elaine. “Elaine’s far too young for this kind of thing as it is. There are hyenas, cheetahs, leopards, even lions out there. We might run into one.”

“I’m not too young,” Elaine protested. “Valens would stin—”

“Oh, I hope we do run into one,” Zacharias said, talking over Elaine’s protests. “I’ll take its head as a trophy for my wall.”

“You’re so brave,” gushed Josephine, taking the noble’s arm.

Arcturus resisted the temptation to grin as Alice performed the world’s most exaggerated eye roll. The two sisters might look identical, but he was realizing more and more that they were two very different people.

As Edmund reluctantly agreed to Alice’s demand, Arcturus noticed the servant returning, pushing a rattling cart over the cobbles.

“About time,” Zacharias grunted, shoving the servant aside to pluck a crossbow from within. “Thanks for looking after it for me, Edmund.”

Arcturus could see the Forsyth family crest carved into the weapon’s stock, a strange four-legged demon with three intertwined heads on long, snakelike necks.

Then it was the twins’ turn to delve into the cart, revealing a matching pair—elegant pieces that they loaded with practiced efficiency. They had done this before.

Edmund gave Arcturus a curious look as the young commoner peered into the cart, and Edmund leaned in to pull out his own crossbow. It was made of black, polished wood, and the stock was carved to fit the owner’s shoulder. Arcturus resisted the jealousy that surged through him, even as he wondered for a moment if he had been brought to load Edmund’s crossbow for him.

“Made from ebony, grown right here in Raleighshire,” Edmund said, brushing an invisible fleck of dirt from the beautiful weapon. “Made by the finest dwarven bowyers. You load it by pulling back on this lever, here.”

Edmund heaved on a metal spar that sat crosswise beneath the crossbow’s string and eased it back, until the string clicked into place and the lever lay flat against the stock.

Arcturus blanched. Maybe he was going to be the loader after all.

“Then you place a bolt—sometimes called a quarrel—here,” Edmund continued, tugging what to Arcturus’s eyes looked like a short, fat arrow from a quiver in the cart, and laying it in a groove in front of the taut string.

“When you’ve got something in your sights, you place the butt against your shoulder, look down the bolt, and … pull the trigger.”

Edmund swung up the crossbow in one smooth motion and the weapon twanged, sending the quarrel whistling through the air. Arcturus ducked instinctively, but the projectile was aimed well above him. There was a thud, and then Arcturus saw the sign that hung outside a nearby tavern swinging back and forth.

“Edmund,” Alice chided, looking at the splintered sign. “They won’t be able to fix that.”

“Good riddance,” Edmund replied, grinning. “It’s got our family crest on it. Hate the damned thing.”

Arcturus squinted, and could just make out what appeared to be a Manticore in its center—a hybrid of scorpion and lion. He couldn’t help but agree with Edmund … it was an ugly-looking creature.

Edmund handed the crossbow over, and Arcturus looked at it dejectedly. He guessed he’d be carrying Edmund’s crossbow as well. Still, at least he was here, away from Crawley and in the sun. It wasn’t as if he wanted to kill any gazelle anyway.

“Well, don’t look so glum,” Edmund said, a hint of a smile playing across the raven-haired noble’s lips. “Don’t you like it?”

“What do you mean?” Arcturus asked, confused.

“It’s yours,” Edmund said, tugging another crossbow from the cart and hefting it. “Just make sure you don’t let the teachers see it when we’re back at Vocans.”

“Bloody hell,” Elaine said as Arcturus stared at the weapon in amazement. “Where’s mine?”

“How about you share mine for now,” Alice offered.

Arcturus turned to thank Edmund, but the boy was already walking away, a bundle of crossbow bolts in a quiver over his shoulder.

“Come on, grab a quiver and let’s get moving,” Edmund called. “We’ve got dinner to catch.”





CHAPTER

21

ARCTURUS CROUCHED LOW IN the long grass, sweat dotting his brow as he sighted down his crossbow at the grazing beast ahead of him.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Edmund whispered beside him. “Pull the trigger as you breathe out. Easy does it.”