An Empire Unacquainted With Defeat by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

identified its root cause. Homesickness.
    "I'm exhausted," he muttered. "Better turn in."
    Rula sped him a look of mute appeal. He ignored it. He didn't dare wait with her. Not anymore. Not with these unsoldierly feelings threatening to betray all honor.
    The Soldier's Rituals did no good. They only reminded him of the life he had abandoned. He was a soldier no more. He had chosen a different path, a different life.
    A part of life lay inside the sod house, perhaps his for the asking.
    "I'm a man of honor," he mumbled. Desperation choked his voice.
    And again his heart leaned to his motherland.
    Sighing, he broke into his mule packs. He found his armorer's kit, began oiling his weapons.
    But his mind kept flitting, taunting him like a black butterfly. Home. Rula. Home. Rula again.
    Piece by piece, with exaggerated care, he oiled his armor. It was overdue. Lacquerwork needed constant, loving care. He had let it slide so he wouldn't risk giving himself away.
    He worked with the unhappy devotion of a recruit forewarned of a surprise inspection. It required concentration. The distractions slid into the recesses of his mind.
    He was cleaning the eyepieces of his mask when he heard the startled gasp.
    He looked up. Rula had come to the barn.
    He hadn't heard her light tread.
    She stared at the mask. Fascination and horror alternated on her face. Her lips worked. No sound came forth.
    Tain didn't move.
    This is the end, he thought. She knows what the mask means . . . .
    "I . . . . Steban fell asleep . . . . I thought . . . ." She couldn't tear her gaze away from that hideous metal visage.
    She yielded to the impulse to flee, took several steps. Then something drew her back.
    Fatalistically, Tain polished the thin traceries of inlaid gold.
    "Are you? . . . Is that real?"
    "Yes, Rula." He reattached the mask to his helmet. "I was a leading centurion of the Demon Guard. The Demon Prince's personal bodyguard." He returned mask and helmet to his mule packs, started collecting the rest of his armor.
    He had to go.
    "How? . . . How can that be? You're not . . . ."
    "We're just men, Rula. Not devils." He guided the mule to the packs, threw a pad across her back. "We have our weaknesses and fears too." He threw the first pack on and adjusted it.
    "What are you doing?"
    "I can't stay now. You know what I was. That changes everything."
    "Oh."
    She watched till he finished. But when he called the roan, and began saddling him, she whispered, "Tain?"
    He turned.
    She wasn't two feet away.
    "Tain. It doesn't matter. I won't tell anyone. Stay."
    One of his former master's familiar spirits reached into his guts and, with bloody talons, slowly twisted his intestines. It took no experience to read the offer in her eyes.
    "Please stay. I . . . . We need you here."
    One treacherous hand overcame his will. He caressed her cheek. She shivered under his touch, hugging herself as if it were cold. She pressed her cheek against his fingers.
    He tried to harden his eyes. "Oh, no. Not now. More than ever."
    "Tain. Don't. You can't." Her gaze fell to the straw. Savage quaking conquered her.
    She moved toward him. Her arms enveloped his neck. She buried her face in his chest. He felt the warm moistness of tears through his clothing.
    He couldn't push her away. "No," he said, and she understood that he meant he wouldn't go.
    He separated himself gently and began unloading the mule. He avoided Rula's eyes, and she his whenever he succumbed.
    He turned to the roan. Then Mikla's voice, cursing, came from toward Kosku's.
    "Better go inside. I'll be there in a minute."
    Disappointment, pain, anger, fear, played tag across Rula's face. "Yes. All right."
    Slowly, going to the Rituals briefly, Tain finished. Maybe later. During the night, when she wouldn't be here to block his path . . . .
    Liar, he thought. It's too late now.
    He went to the house.
    Toma and Mikla had arrived. They were opening jars of beer.
    "It was Kosku's place," Toma