Return of the Crimson Guard by Ian C. Esslemont Read Free Book Online Page B

aching to try one. Like, ended up ahead, didn't you?’
Possum snorted. A few men and women glanced his way. He coughed, hawked up phlegm and spat. The faces turned away.
‘Hood forefend! I would never be so insensitive.’
‘Sure. Like I was spiked yesterday .’
‘Why are we talking then? Poor company up there? Cat got their tongues?’
‘I have a message for you .’
Despite his control, Possum stiffened. Such a message could only be from one source. ‘Yes,’ he managed, his voice even fainter.
‘They are returning .’
‘Who are?’
‘The death-cheaters. The defiers. All the withholders and arrogators .’
‘Who?’
‘Ah – here comes one now .’
Possum lurched forward into a ready crouch, weapons slipping into his palms. He scanned the nearest backs. Who? What was this spirit on about? A woman stepped out from the crowd. Short, athletic with dishevelled tightly cropped grey-shot hair, dressed as a servant in a plain shirt and frayed linen trousers, her feet bare and dirty.
His superior, Empress Laseen.
Possum straightened. ‘I didn't think you'd come.’
Laseen regarded him through half-lidded eyes. ‘Who were you speaking with just now?’
‘No one. I was talking to myself.’
‘How very boring for you.’
Rage flashed hot across Possum's vision. He exhaled, unclenched his shoulders. In time. In due time.
Laseen continued her lazy regard. Always judging, it seemed to Possum. How far could she push? How much does he fear me?
She laughed then, suddenly. ‘Poor Urdren. How transparent you are.’
Possum stared, uncertain. Urdren? How could she know his first name? He'd left it behind – along with the corpse of his father.
Laseen turned away. ‘She's here. I'm sure of it. Keep an eye out. I'll circulate.’
Possum almost bowed but caught himself in time. Laseen disappeared into the crowd. He returned to leaning against the wall.
‘He told me you wouldn't tell her .’
‘Who told you?’
A sigh from the other side. ‘Think about it .’
‘What do you mean, “death-cheaters”?’
‘How do I know? I'm just the messenger boy .’
‘What do you—’
‘Here he is. The main attraction .’
A sussurant wave of anticipation swept through the crowd, surged to a deafening roar. Possum, at the very rear, could see nothing of the stage. ‘Have a good view, do you?’
‘Best seat in the house .’
In many ways Possum was indifferent to the show; it wasn't why he was here. While he scanned the backs of heads, watching for movement or the blooming of Warren magics, he asked, ‘So, what's happening?’
‘Janul's been led out. Looks like he's been worked over already. His hands are tied behind his back, his clothes are torn. Might be doped. We used to do that in the old days before the emperor. But then, I don't recall a Talent ever being up there. How does one manage that anyway?’
‘Otataral dust.’
‘Ah. 1 see .’
‘What about you? You're obviously a Talent. Weren't you executed?’
‘We up here along this wall are all that's left of the last ruling council of Unta .’
Possum was impressed. That was long before his time.
‘When Kellanved's fleet took the harbour I fled inland with half the city's treasury. The horses panicked and the blasted carriage toppled over. Broke my neck .’
The crowd roared, shouting all at once. Fists shook in the air. ‘What is it?’
‘They're reading out the charges. A brazier's been set up. Knives are being sharpened. Looks like they're going to cook his entrails right in front of him while keeping him alive as long as possible. Never seen it work:
‘It will this time.’
‘How so?’
‘A Denul healer will sustain him.’
‘But the Otataral?’
‘Precious little is used. The strain of the opposing forces of the magic-deadening Otataral and the healing magics would kill him, of course – if he lived long enough.’
‘I see. He is being restrained, standing, head forced down to watch. His shirts have been torn away. A cut is being made side to side across his