All The King's-Men (The Yellow Hoods, #3) by Adam Dreece Page A

and Nikolas. He’d only been working for Marcus for a couple of weeks, and had been pretty much invisible to Marcus up until then. “It’s mine. I bought it. What’s it to you?” said the soldier. He started to reach for it, but the glare in Marcus’ eyes stopped him.
    Nikolas shook his head, holding the pistol up to the light. “No, you couldn’t have bought this. Unless you’re rich and you’re doing this job for… for no reason I can imagine.”
    “Indeed,” said Marcus, narrowing his eyes as he studied the soldier trying to inch away from him. “I asked you a question. Where did you get this?”
    The soldier started to sweat, his eyes dancing around at the numerous people now paying attention.
    Marcus took the pistol from Nikolas and held it up to the moonlight, studying it some more. He muttered to himself as he noted key things about its design. He brought it down and held it in his hand. “The weight is very good, the grip quite nice. You have a good piece here,” Marcus said to the soldier in a friendly tone. He then extended his arm and pointed the pistol, point blank, at the soldier’s face. “It hides the repeat loader well, but given the size of the pistol and the siding that accompanies the barrel, I surmise that it contains three shots. Now answer my question.”
    “Lord Pieman, your table is ready,” said Marcus’ captain from behind.
    “Do you recognize this?” Marcus asked his captain, raising the pistol over his shoulder, but keeping his eyes locked on the soldier. 
    The captain hesitated for a moment. “St. Malo gave them to some of us. He wanted to make sure that we had a superior weapon with which to protect you. He didn’t want us telling anyone.”
    Marcus dropped the pistol to his side. “Even me?” he said in disbelief, staring his captain squarely in the eyes.
    The captain glanced at the problem soldier before answering. “I guess St. Malo may have been too emphatic in his instructions of telling no one.”
    Nikolas furrowed his brow. He didn’t like the answer.
    Marcus gently tossed the pistol in the air and grabbed it by the barrel. He then held it out for the soldier to take. 
    The soldier looked at it, then at the captain, and then at Marcus. He stretched out his hand to take it. When he gripped it, Marcus held on to it firmly.
    “Never forget who you work for,” said Marcus, his tone and eyes burning into the man. The soldier nodded nervously in reply.
    Marcus turned to Nikolas. “Let’s not keep our table waiting. It’s been a long day.”
    Just as they were about to walk into the inn, Marcus noticed a man loading a cart with barrels, and stopped. Marcus bowed his head, tired. “Nikolas, forgive me. There’s apparently something I need to attend to.” 
    Nikolas noticed the man was loading the barrels at an unusually even pace, indicating to him both that they were empty and that he had no sense of urgency about getting home. 
    “Captain, if you’d please see Nikolas to our table,” Marcus said as the captain caught up to them, the scout in tow.
    “Of course, Lord Pieman,” said the captain with a definitive nod.
    Nikolas eyed the captain and the scout. The light from the inside of the inn defined them better. As he stood there, holding the door open, he could see they were very rough, tired-looking characters. They hadn’t shaved in days, and had scars on their hands, faces, and necks. 
    “Get in there, tubby,” said the captain, stopping himself before laying a hand on Nikolas, afraid of what the old man might do.
    Nikolas cocked his head to the side and studied the captain’s expression. “You think this joke is funny, yes? You’ve heard of the Tub and think yes, it is clever, but no. I am not fat and I am not very involved in the Tub, so therefore your joke is either extremely ignorant or you are attempting to conceal something which you are afraid I will notice.” 
    The captain scowled at Nikolas and shoved him forward. “Get in there