Slave Line (The Young Ancients) by P.S. Power Read Free Book Online

dead anyway, people told him."
    Tor laughed gently and then stared back, feeling more than a little breathless, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He wasn't the only one laughing either. Three separate voices in his head did too. Glost Serge spoke though, his voice less sane than it had been in life most of the time. It told him that someone else was obviously behind it. Had steered the man at him like a weapon, to make him jump one way or the other.
    "It was a set up Trice. I don't know why, or who did it, but the Baron wasn't bright enough to think of anything nearly as complex as he did. I mean the whole challenge took brains to put together. Sending it to the King's court, naming me as a Knight first, so I had to fight and couldn't pull out or put it off... The man was a hothead, and perhaps of average intelligence, but that kind of thing would have taken a genius to put together. All the possible escapes but two had been cut off and killing him before the event would have made the Kingdom look bad in the long run."
    "Two... What was the other?"
    Tor didn't want to admit to it, but it was the thing he'd pretty much planned for originally. Until he'd threaten to rape his own son after he killed Tor.
    "Me letting him win." Or just losing, but it hadn't gone that way. The idea wasn't lost on his friend though. She grimaced.
    "Ouch. Well, glad that didn't happen. This way we don't have to worry about your ego being bruised at least."
    Rolling his eyes he stood and walked over to her, hugging her to him tightly for a second.
    "But it means someone tried to have me killed. If they're smart enough to set that last bit up, they're probably good enough to know it wouldn't work too, not for certain, meaning their intent was something else. Probably controlling what I'm going to do next, or later at least. It may have even been designed to force me to kill the man. I..." How did he explain it all to her? Normal people felt bad when they killed, but it didn't seem like what he was going through. This was awful on a level he couldn't explain at all.
    He waited, wondering what to say, but decided not to. Trice was his friend, but that hadn't always gone smoothly and he really didn't want her to think he was weak or vulnerable at the moment. He was, he knew, on just about every level, but he couldn't afford letting anyone know that. Not if he really had an enemy that could set up complex plots like that.
    "So, anyway, this Troll of Galasia? I don't know... let's sent him a care package and make sure he knows he can come here for help if he needs it?" That would be enough, right? He really wanted to avoid being responsible for another death if he could help it. Kind of the point of the mind control that he'd been born with, no doubt. Rhetistics, Tor thought it was called. Whatever the heck that was. He needed to get with Burks and figure all of that out soon. Maybe there was some way to remove it or something? That would make his whole life easier if it was the case. For some reason he knew it wasn't though. for one thing Denno and Burks would have removed theirs a long time ago if that was the case.
    When they got ready to leave the room it was nearing ten in the morning, which meant it would be safe to call the Palace and see about arranging a visit. It was probably fine to just show up, but they had a communications device now, which meant he could at least warn everyone they were coming. It seemed the polite thing to do and if there was a long wait to get an audience with the King Tor could just show up closer to the time of the event, waiting in his own home, which would be more comfortable for him.
    No one answered the device at first when he activated the palace sigil, which just was a glowing word on the white stone hand piece that spelled out the word instead of a real symbol. It was easier to remember which one was which that way. He watched Trice for a while, wondering what she was thinking as they waited. After the