Proven Guilty by Jim Butcher EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Jim Butcher
- Publish Date: January 1, 2011
- Size: 1.4 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
Blood leaves no stain on a Warden’s grey cloak. I didn’t know that until the
day I watched Morgan, second in command of the White Council’s Wardens,
lift his sword over the kneeling form of a young man guilty of the practice of
black magic. The boy, sixteen years old at the most, screamed and ranted in
Korean underneath his black hood, his mouth spilling hatred and rage,
convinced by his youth and power of his own immortality. He never knew it
when the blade came down.
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Which I guess was a small mercy. Microscopic, really.
His blood flew in a scarlet arc. I wasn’t ten feet away. I felt hot droplets strike
one cheek, and more blood covered the left side of the cloak in blotches of
angry red. The head fell to the ground, and I saw the cloth over it moving, as
if the boy’s mouth were still screaming imprecations.
The body fell onto its side. One calf muscle twitched spasmodically and then
stopped. After maybe five seconds, the head did too.
Morgan stood over the still form for a moment, the bright silver sword of the
White Council of Wizards’ justice in his hands. Besides him and me, there
were a dozen Wardens present, and two members of the Senior Council—the
Merlin and my one-time mentor, Ebenezar McCoy.
The covered head stopped its feeble movements. Morgan glanced up at the
Merlin and nodded once. The Merlin returned the nod. “May he find peace.”
“Peace,” the Wardens all replied together.
Except me. I turned my back on them, and made it two steps away before I
threw up on the warehouse floor.
I stood there shaking for a moment, until I was sure I was finished, then
straightened slowly. I felt a presence draw near me and looked up to see
Ebenezar standing there.
He was an old man, bald but for wisps of white hair, short, stocky, his face
half covered in a ferocious-looking grey beard. His nose and cheeks and bald
scalp were all ruddy, except for a recent, purplish scar on his pate.
Though he was centuries old he carried himself with vibrant energy, and his
eyes were alert and pensive behind gold-rimmed spectacles. He wore the
formal black robes of a meeting of the Council, along with the deep purple
stole of a member of the Senior Council.
“Harry,” he said quietly. “You all right?”
“After that?” I snarled, loudly enough to make sure everyone there heard me.
“No one in this damned building should be all right.”
I felt a sudden tension in the air behind me.
“No they shouldn’t,” Ebenezar said. I saw him look back at the other wizards
there, his jaw setting stubbornly.
The Merlin came over to us, also in his formal robes and stole. He looked like
a wizard should look—tall, long white hair, long white beard, piercing blue
eyes, his face seamed with age and wisdom.
Well. With age, anyway.
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