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Neversfall - Ed Gentry [75]

By Root 780 0

"Help me," Marlke stammered.

"Now, why would I do that?" Jhoqo asked. "If I let her live, I gain the chance to train a fine officer and show her the truth of the world. She's partway there. I feel confident I can guide her the rest of the way."

"If you let her live? What are you saying? She'll tell everyone it was me in here, trying to kill the beasts." "Of course she will. It's the truth." "They'll lynch me!"

"It's difficult to punish a dead man," Jhoqo replied.

Marlke squinted and tried to push himself to a seated position, but his hands slipped in his own blood, slamming his chin hard to the floor. He rolled his head to one side and pleaded, "He won't like me being dead, and you know it."

Jhoqo smiled, ignoring the remark and said, "Besides, you do not have the trust of her men. Why would you? You're incompetent. If she dies but you live, I will certainly lose control of them. They will be none too happy when I accuse her of being a traitor, but she will be alive to face a fair trial. That should keep them civil enough."

"But you cuffed her on the head. Had to be you, she'll see that," Marlke said.

Jhoqo nodded and began to pace as he said, "True. I suppose. But then, to everyone else's eyes, I wasn't sure if both of you were involved or not. I was doing what I had to in order to protect the lives of our prisoners. I think they'll understand. Even she'll have to understand that I meant no harm."

Marlke's lips, turning a purplish blue, moved but no sound came at first. After a few attempts he managed to speak. "You can't…" he started but was interrupted by a cough. "You can't kill her, can you? He won't let it happen," he said through a bloody laugh. He licked the liquid life from his lips as his eyes fluttered. "Figures. Sentimental fool, that one."

Jhoqo said, "True enough. You're not entirely an idiot. You know what I dislike most about you, though? Your greed. It is boundless."

At that, the dwarf s eyes shot open. "Me? What about you? You're not getting paid?" he said, his words slow and beginning to slur.

Jhoqo paced back and forth in a tight circle before the dwarf and said, "Of course I am. I would be remiss in my duty as a citizen of the South to perform a job without compensation. However, you are a different matter. I am trying to open commerce, to see that every man, woman, and child in the Shining South gets an opportunity to seek their fortunes with a new and powerful ally and source of untapped wealth."

Marlke coughed, trying to respond.

Jhoqo nodded and continued, "But you-you, dwarf, merely wish to control as large a portion of the wealth as you can get yout hands on. You would decrease worker wages, buy out competitors, and drive up your own prices, no doubt blaming the rise on growing production costs."

"He won't like it," Marlke whispered, returning to his earlier line of reasoning.

Jhoqo ceased walking, knelt outside the puddle of blood and said, "I am confident that, were our employer here, he would agree with me. You are just not the patriot we thought you to be, and your service is no longer required. Besides, there won't be much to be done about it in a few moments, will there?"

+ + + + +

Taennen followed Bascou back toward the citadel. The grass on the empty plains smelled dead and defeated under the scorching sun. Taennen glanced over his shoulder many times as he followed the man before him.

As they approached to within an arrow shot, the front gates cracked open for them. Bascou sang the praises of the fallen men to those gathered just inside the citadel, proclaiming Taennen a warrior of unmatched prowess. The observers joined in his praise.

Their forces were waning, and soon there would be none of them left unless they could stem the tide of the invaders' attacks. Taennen's prowess didn't matter if they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. He ignored the remarks and strode past Bascou, headed toward the building Jhoqo had designated for citadel operations.

Taennen's mind wandered as he walked through the courtyard. He needed to have his wounds dressed, and his sword needed

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