Neversfall - Ed Gentry [67]
"You will show the proper respect, Muzahar," Taennen said.
Haddar eyed him hard, never one to hold his tongue,
"They are darkblades, sir," he said. "Foreign sellswords. Even the Durpari have more honor than they do. At least the Durpari serve their own country and only their own country."
Taennen glared at the man, long enough for Haddar to notice and become quiet. When he did, Taennen looked him in the eye before doing the same in turn to each of the other three Maquar gathered there. "Do you believe in the ways of the Maquar?" he asked Haddar.
The man blinked but maintained his gaze straight ahead at attention before saying, "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."
"The Maquar are my family. Are they yours?"
Haddar nodded.
"A family must be willing to change and grow. After all, people die, marry, have children… isn't this so?" Taennen asked.
Again, the man nodded.
"A family must also stand united, or surely it will dissolve. They may disagree, of course, but they must come together in times of need, yes?"
Taennen did not wait for the man's response before continuing. "The head of your family has asked of you all that he must-no more, no less. We are in trouble, brothers," Taennen said, turning to look each man in the eyes. He added, "We must save one another. We are in a strange land, and we are overwhelmed. A good warrior must know when this is true and admit it to himself.
"There is no shame in it. Jhoqo knows this and so has done what was necessary," Taennen said, pointing toward the sellswords. "To protect his family," he added, indicating the men standing before him.
Haddar nodded and said, "Of course, sir. My apologies, sir."
Taennen dismissed them, the men all too glad to be on their way. He was not fond of the Chondathans either, but orders were orders, and, since the newcomers were already here and not going anywhere, inhospitality would only make things worse. Jhoqo knew what he was doing. They needed to trust their commander. He needed to trust his commander.
Taennen turned toward the stairway to his quarters but stopped when someone called his name from behind him. He turned to see Bascou coming toward him, his hand extended. His long, thick hair seemed cumbersome. Taennen could imagine a hundred ways to use that hair against an opponent in a light. It did not seem beneficial to a soldier. His plain dress also bespoke more stealth than battle prowess, and Taennen wondered at the tactics employed by the sellswords. He stuck out his arm and accepted the man's clasp, returning it with a small squeeze.
"Thank you, friend. Your help is appreciated," Bascou said.
Taennen nodded, wondering at the man's accent. His vowels were stressed and accentuated, and his tongue rolled on his consonant combinations.
"I know this is a difficult situation for your men, needing help from outsiders," Bascou said.
Taennen replied, "Yes, it is hard for some."
"I wonder, though, if your message was received by them," the sellsword added, his lips parting in a smile that reminded Taennen of a teacher asking a question he knew a student could not answer correctly.
"They're good men. They'll come around."
Bascou's smile widened as he said, "Of course, of course. It is interesting to see how others lead, is it not? For instance, if one of my men had insulted you so," Bascou said, waving his hands before his face as if to ward against that situation, "I would have killed him and set an example for the rest of my men."
Taennen felt uncertain whether he should laugh at the man's posturing or take him seriously. He chose to stare ahead, attempting to show no reaction whatsoever.
Bascou's smile went crooked as he let out a small chuckle. "Very good, my friend," he said, grasping Taennen's forearm. "Thank you again."
"Of course," Taennen said, realizing he did not know by which title he should address the man. It did not matter, and he did not care. He wanted nothing so much as to