The Last Warrior. Susan Grant

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      “Let her go.” The dancer circled behind him and slid her arms around his waist. Even as he felt his body react to her seductive touch, he took hold of her wrists and untangled her.

      “You wish a Kurel over me?” She sounded stung.

      It was true that he’d imagined teaching Aza’s tutor a few lessons of his own, but she’d just revealed that he had unfinished business to attend to. Amorous play of any sort would have to wait. He pressed his chamber key into the dancer’s hennaed hand. “I wish you in my bed, sweetling. Wait for me.”

      Tao strode after the tutor, but reaching a confluence of several corridors, he couldn’t be sure which path she’d taken. Likely out the first exit and to K-Town.

      Don’t let down his guard? Why?

      He suspected that no one had given him the full story since he’d returned home. How serious was the Kurel unrest in the ghetto? What drove his sister’s unhappiness in her marriage? How likely was Xim to grant Tao’s men land and wives when he seemed to view them as a threat? Or was only Tao the threat?

      It was time he found out the truth.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      “DAMN THAT ONE-EYED bastard,” Markam hissed.

      As he escorted her to the palace exit, they spoke in low tones, their manner casual to anyone who would have observed, the routine of chatting at day’s end no different from what they’d done for years, no matter that her heart was kicking so hard it felt as if it would leap out of her rib cage and draw attention to her treasonous deeds.

      “Beck was very nearly mortally wounded at the front, left blinded in both eyes. But the hotheaded fool survived—and regained sight in one eye. Tao should have let the man fall on his sword when he became useless on the battlefield, the way it was always done.”

      Never had such open anger roughened Markam’s voice. His temper was always under tight control.

      “Always done?” Appalled, Elsabeth glanced sideways at him. “Where is mercy in all this?”

      “To an Uhr, the circumstances of his death are as important as his deeds in life. A warrior must die honorably, even if that end is hastened at the hand of his fellow soldiers to speed the boarding of the angels’ arks. But, Tao had Beck sent home to the Barracks for Maimed Veterans.”

      “Tao being Tao?” she prompted.

      “His personal sense of honor is so great, he sometimes neglects to believe the lack of it in others.”

      “As in Beck…”

      “Yes. Beck blames Tao for stealing his warrior’s death.”

      “But Uhr-Tao saved him.”

      “Of course. But to Beck, Tao dishonored him in the worst possible way. Beck recovered enough sight to train recruits here in the capital, yes, but he doesn’t see himself as serving a useful purpose—he sees himself as an object of shame, and Tao as the one responsible for his plight. Tao allowed a fellow Uhr the chance to resume being an essential part of the Tassagon army, but all he did was create a bitter enemy.”

      Tao being Tao. “Because his personal sense of honor is so great, he sometimes neglects to believe the lack of it in others,” she said under her breath. Now she could see why Markam had described his friend that way. Her confrontation with the general had led to this conversation, and to something she hadn’t expected: a revelation.

      At the exit, Markam stopped, his heels clicking crisply together as he wished her good-night. “Thank you for your help, Elsabeth.”

      “What are you going to do?”

      “What I always do. Talk sense into young Xim and steer him clear of Beck’s influence.” Markam nodded pleasantly to a passing guard, then his expression turned serious again. “And hope I’m not too late.”

      MARKAM OWED HIM SOME answers.

      At the guard barracks, Tao found a party in progress. The majority of his officers filled a balcony, whooping it up. The women hanging on their arms were just as inebriated. Uniforms were half undone, if they were on at all, and the pungent odor of alcoholic spirits was eye watering in the muggy air. Some sort of drinking game was under way that involved belting out awful songs.

      Good on them. After all they’d suffered and lost, his men deserved a bit of fun.

      “General! Why are you standing out there?” Mandalay cried. “Join us.”

      Sandoval, his armory captain, waved his arm so vigorously he almost lost his balance. “Surely you’re not thinking of abandoning us for—” he belched “—royalty, are you, sir? Or better yet a willing wench. Not yet at any rate.”

      “We’ve whiskey aplenty here,” Pirelli, his master-at-arms, called to him. “And I dare say a much better party than those stuffy upper-crusters.”

      They were right in that regard. This gathering beat the one he’d just suffered through. Tao joined the crowd on the balcony. A good number of the palace guards were there. “Field-Colonel Markam… Have you seen the man?”

      “He’s out on some business for the king,” someone answered. “That’s all he’d say.” The man wore the trousers of a palace guard and a plain white jersey on top.

      “Find him for me. Tell him I wish his counsel.”

      With an unsteady gait, the off-duty guard left to fetch his boss.

      “Sir! Have a glass of ale, at least while you wait,” Sandoval offered, thrusting a glass into his hands.

      Tao took a long draught of the ale. It was ice cold and slightly sweet, refreshing and welcome in the stuffy heat of a summer that had overstayed its visit to the capital and seemed to have lodged inside the palace walls as a permanent resident. For a moment Tao forgot his worries, too glad to see his men acting without a care. They had won the chance to pursue a civilian life and, perhaps, even grow old.

      “General Uhr-Tao!”

      Tao tensed instinctively. He’d know that raspy voice anywhere. “Colonel Uhr-Beck,” he greeted the one-eyed warrior.

      The sleeves of Beck’s uniform shirt were rolled up, revealing arms that, like the rest of him, were thick and solid without an ounce of fat. Tao knew Beck drilled his basic recruits without mercy, accepting no excuses for less-than-stellar performance. That quality hardened boys into men who could match the fierceness of the Gorr, a quality that Tao had welcomed at the front. It was a less desirable trait when training men to deal with their fellow humans, Kurel included.

      Beck wasted no time with pleasantries. “They can’t be gathered here, General Tao. Your men. It’s the law.”

      “I know of no such law.”

      “As of tonight, sir, there is one.” Shiny pale skin covered the socket of Beck’s blind eye like a leather tarp stretched over a trapdoor. His good eye dared Tao to challenge him.

      Tao was in no mood to bicker СКАЧАТЬ