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Serap waved a hand, and then frowned. ‘Not the Hust? You surprise me. Or perhaps not, as the noble blood in you must howl loudest when the lives of kin are sacrificed. Mundane soldiers, even ones bearing demon-haunted weapons, are beneath notice – well, maybe a mutter or two, if only at the crassness of the deed.’
Sharenas allowed herself a slow smile. ‘I always judged you the sharpest. So, is this how it is, then? You stand with Hunn Raal.’
‘Blood of kin, Sharenas. But you should understand this. In so many ways I still have the eyes of the innocent. I will care for my soldiers. I will, if necessary, give my life for theirs.’
‘Bold words,’ Sharenas replied, nodding. ‘I’m curious. Do you believe Hunn Raal would do the same?’
Something fluttered in Serap’s eyes, and the woman glanced away. ‘Have you reported to the commander?’
‘I have spoken to Urusander, yes.’
‘Does he remain … disinterested?’
A curious question. Sharenas collected up her tankard, drank down a mouthful of the weak ale, and grimaced. ‘You do not come here for this, do you?’
‘Supplies are low. Everyone has to make do.’
‘How would you react, I wonder, if I now told you that Vatha Urusander intends to arrest Hunn Raal, and a good many other captains of the Legion? And that I bear with me the evidence of their many crimes – crimes that can only be answered by the gallows.’
Serap laughed.
Settling back in her chair, Sharenas nodded. ‘And this was a man we once followed, unquestioningly. A man we would give up our lives for. Back when the enemy was foreign. Well, as you say, Serap, we were all young once, and that was long ago.’
‘Best you choose your side, Sharenas, with great care. He is not the man he once was. In many ways,’ she added, ‘we’d do better with Osserc.’
‘He has not returned, then.’
‘No. And no word of where he has gone.’
Sharenas glanced away. ‘I have advised against confronting Hunn Raal. For the moment.’
‘Wise.’
‘Things need cleaning up first.’
Serap’s brows lifted. ‘Oh? And how will you manage that?’
Sharenas rose in one fluid motion, the blade leaving the scabbard with a hiss, and then lashing out across the table, taking Serap by the neck. The keen edge cut through, separating the woman’s head
from her shoulders. As the head pitched forward to thump hard on the tabletop, blood shot from the stump of Serap’s neck, like a fountain in a courtyard. But the pulsing torrent was shortlived.
Sharenas stepped around the table and gathered up a corner of Serap’s cloak. She carefully wiped down her blade. Behind her, in the tavern, there was absolute silence.
‘Like this,’ she answered quietly. She studied the head lying on the table, the look of surprise fast fading as all life left the eyes, as the nerves of the face surrendered, slowly sagging. It was, she decided, a rather innocent face.
Sharenas sheathed her sword, and then drained the tankard and set it down beside the head. She drew out a coin and snapped it down, and then swung about and strode from the tavern.
It was a start. She had a long night ahead of her.
Outside once more, shivering in the bitter cold night air, she set out for the Legion camp.
* * *
‘Shit.’ Hunn Raal sat up on the bed. The wine was heavy and acrid in his gut, but the sickness suddenly roaring in his skull had little to do with that.
Beside him, the nameless maid stirred, and said in a slurred voice, ‘What is it?’
He twisted round, reached out and took hold of the young woman’s neck. It felt flimsy in his grip. ‘Look at me, High Priestess. Are you there?’ He then grunted. ‘Yes, I see that you are. Blood has been spilled. Blood of my family. Someone has murdered Serap. Down in the town.’
