The Last Warrior. Susan Grant
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few violent incidents occurred inside the ghetto gates,” Markam continued.
“He sent his men inside?” Aghast, Tao wondered how Beck had convinced his green recruits to dare it. Even experienced soldiers were leery of risking a sorcerer’s curse.
“Not very far inside, I assure you. A few Kurel came forth to reason with them. Stories vary. We’ll never be sure what happened, but at the end of it, there were casualties. I did what I could to restore calm. There hasn’t been a repeat, but the Kurel haven’t forgotten.”
The redhead’s reaction to his homecoming confirmed it. Xim wasn’t the man his sire was, anyone would agree, but it seemed the kingdom had fallen into the hands of a boy who didn’t ponder the consequences of his deeds. Tao was only a few years older, but he’d acquired a lifetime of experience compared with the king. It was clear Xim needed support and guidance in a more sensible direction, but it would have to be done tactfully. Markam’s insinuation that Xim had lost the respect of the public was a warning that others might see Tao as a candidate to usurp the king.
Politics. Was there no escaping it here in the kingdom?
“Ah, no frowning, my friend,” Markam cried. “Not today. Look at the people. Feel the love. This is your day!”
Tao couldn’t fault Markam for changing the subject. This moment of triumph had been many hundreds of years in the making. He was once again aware of the crowd crying out for him, but his thoughts inevitably returned to the angry Kurel woman and Markam’s words. Had he returned from battle only to find war brewing in his own backyard?
CHAPTER TWO
“UHR-TAO, UHR-TAO…”
Chanting for the general chased Elsabeth all the way across the moat bridge and into the coolness of the palace, where servants hurried this way and that, carrying enormous trays of breads and fruits to tables already groaning under the weight of food set out for the banquet.
Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed since the home guards had harassed her. She hadn’t been afraid for herself. She’d been too worried that the books in her bag would be traced to Queen Aza. The Home Guard reported to Colonel Uhr-Beck, who reported to King Xim.
She worked to calm herself, lest she encounter anyone who’d notice her agitation. Her role in the palace was safe only because of her ability to keep from being noticed. Any nervousness on her part could very well be translated as guilt, and then it would be over for her.
“What’s your hurry, Kurel?” the guards had demanded, wanting to search her bag—and more, had she not given them the reasonable expectation of a good fight if they dared try—all because she’d drawn attention to herself by failing to fawn over Uhr-Tao.
“Show the general some respect!”
Respect, when soldiers like Uhr-Tao won acclaim for wielding swords but wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with a book or a pen, let alone proper eating utensils, or anything else associated with civilized human behavior. Respect, when every time she looked at a Tassagon Army uniform, she relived her horrifying race through the ghetto, only to discover she was too late, because her parents had already been shot like animals for no more crime than standing in the street. Respect, when the soldiers responsible for killing them walked free, rewarded for their actions.
Even now, three years later, her heart clutched with the memory of her parents’ murders, and her vow to oust Xim for the crime was no less determined. She wasn’t arrogant enough to believe she’d have gotten this far, spending her days within an arm’s reach of the man, if not for discovering friends amongst her enemies. Some Tassagons were just as disillusioned as she was with King Xim, including the mutineer chief of his palace guards.
“There you are, Elsabeth.” As if bursting from her very thoughts, Field-Colonel Markam stood in the entrance to the nursery, wearing dress blue-and-whites and gleaming boots. His features were too strong for him to be considered handsome, his nose too long and his chin too sharp, but with his sheer intensity and unfailing self-confidence, he attracted willing women by the droves. He gave them little notice, so devoted was he to his career.
Elsabeth planted two fists on her hips. “You couldn’t have called off those battle-ax-wielding thugs yourself? General Tao had to do it?”
“It was the perfect way to introduce you as someone I wouldn’t go out of my way to help. Just another Kurel.”
Not one shred of apology accompanied his simple explanation, nor was the reasoning behind it something she could argue. No one must guess they were working together, or for what purpose.
Like a hawk folding its wings, he placed his hands behind his back and strolled the nursery, perusing toys and the other evidence of children with the same neutral observation she’d seen him use when inspecting troops passing in review. But it wasn’t reflective of his true feelings. Whenever she saw his eyes light up at the sight of Aza, she knew that he cared for the queen and the children as much as she did.
He turned to her, grim. “He’s afraid. Xim is. Thousands of soldiers have entered the city, loyal to their general, and none familiar with their king. I’m going to try my damnedest to reassure him, but this kingdom won’t be big enough for the two of them.”
“Would it be too optimistic to hope King Xim is the one who moves out?”
“If only it could be that simple.” The tendons in his lean jaw worked. She searched his face, looking for clues. Any unrest would surely translate to action against her people. “Beck wants to take over as general of the army.”
She swung to him. “You can’t let him—”
Markam cracked a smile. “Oh, ye of little faith. Tao has confided his interest in retiring. I’ll leave that to him to tell the king, but I’ve already suggested to Xim that the soldiers not be garrisoned in the capital proper. There’s a region outside the western wall where they can settle, take on wives and farm. Xim likes the idea, but Beck, well, he won’t want anything to do with that sort of life.”
“His ambition would rust from disuse,” she muttered. Markam seemed to have stabilized matters. Still, Uhr-Beck wanting to jump into Tao’s place was worrisome.
“Until all this is settled, Tao must tread carefully. I need you to keep your ears and eyes open for any hints his safety is in jeopardy.”
“Helping the man who never helped us.” She found it hard to show sympathy for the general who ran the army that had murdered her parents. “He was off doing the king’s bidding like a favored hunting dog. You’re the hero, Markam. You stopped the violence in Kurel Town, not General Tao.”
Markam spread his hands. “Tassagons see Tao differently than you do, Elsabeth. I see him differently.”
A legend. A hero. Had he not proved it by shooing away her tormentors, a couple of thick-skulled bullies, in the midst of his homecoming parade, and doing it with a single flick of his hand? It had been a generous, unexpected deed.
You should have thanked him. The acknowledgment of her rudeness to the general came with a pang of guilt. Her parents wouldn’t have approved of her behavior. They’d raised her to be tolerant, their silly liberal views preaching unity and acceptance, but every time she glimpsed a Tassagon Army uniform, she remembered her parents’ brutalized bodies. If she scratched the surface, would Tao be any different from the rest of the thickheaded ax-throwers who populated the Tassagon Army?
Markam ignored her stubborn expression, his voice firm but patient. “We can use Tao. Turn him to our side.”
“There’s no guarantee of that.”
“Perhaps not. But without Tao alive as a counterbalance, Xim will gain even more power. His ambition will know no bounds. He’ll find excuses to send the army to destroy the Riders and Kurel. With Tao dead, the Gorr will no longer be afraid to regroup and attack. We’ll be too weak to defend ourselves because we’ll be warring human against human, blind to the coming danger, as is warned in the Log of Uhrth.”