The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) by Anthony Gillis Read Free Book Online Page A

about the growing violence in the east, and he'd heard rumors that the Republic might be dragged into it. He wasn't much for politics, but that could only bode ill.
    He was a man of prime fighting age, and an exp erienced fighter, but no way he'd let them, whether Palaeon or the government of the Republic, talk, bribe, or conscript him into someone else's war.
    His life was his.
    Whatever Daxar's offer might turn out to be, it was already looking more promising.
     
    ~
     
    Lunch was good enough, but the main appeal had been the conversation. After many weeks away, Daxar had plenty of stories from his travels, and Talaos a few more about doings in Carai. Then they'd reminisced about earlier times, when Talaos was a newly hired sword in Cratus's organization, and Daxar, a few years older, was working a sideline as a fence for weapons taken by gangs from their dead rivals. Talaos had been good for business.
    As they left the little dive of a restaurant, both men were heavily armed; Talaos in his black gear, dueling swords, silver-fitted belt and baldrics full of knives and daggers. Daxar with his long ornate sword backed up by a long dagger and a pair of throwing knives.
    Talaos felt restless and impatient.
    "Dax, tell me more about the job you might have."
    The other grinned. "I thought we agreed to save the business talk until we got to my offices."
    "Don't get respectable on me."
    "I've been trying. Talaos, I'm trying to wash my hands of gang ties."
    "Are you now?" said Talaos with an arched eyebrow and a darksome smirk.
    "Well, present company excepted. Or more accurately, maybe now might be the time for you to get out of gang life yourself."
    They turned a corner from the large street they'd been on, a bustling thoroughfare running back from the harbor district , full of wagons and carts, and onto a somewhat smaller, but still busy, street that led toward Daxar's offices.
    "All right, I've been thinking about it," admitted Talaos, "but what have you got?"
    "Well, business was good in Hunyos, but the war there is going to be so large scale that the risks could outweigh the benefits for me of trying to operate there on any more permanent footing."
    "More permanent?" asked Talaos, curious.
    "I'd been thinking about a branch office," replied Daxar, "but I'm having second thoughts since investing in a branch office in a city that ends up taken by siege will not be good for profits at all, or my chance to live and enjoy them."
    "So where then?"
    "I don't know if you are aware, but Kalanthar, in the Southlands, has a new Trade Consul here in Carai," said Daxar.
    Talaos laughed, "I was aware, in fact."
    Daxar gave him a quizzical look, but went on . "Through my more respectable circles of friends, I secured an interview with him, and met his family. It seems they do a good business supplying various things to both sides of a civil war in their neighboring country to the east. One thing they are short on is high quality weapons, and we have those aplenty in the Republic."
    Talaos suspected where this might be going. "So where do I fit in?"
    "Well, Kalanthar might not be at war itself, but that doesn't mean everything will be safe down there, and I need someone I can trust, someone really deadly, to keep an eye on security, and keep watch on my people who handle the money when I'm not around."
    As Talaos considered that, they turned another corner, deeper into the back streets but directly to Daxar's offices. They were in a rougher area, and near the border between Palaeon's territory and that of Cratus.  Instinctively, both men kept hands near their swords.
    The Southlands, thought Talaos. That could be different, and anything but dull. The countries down there certainly had an exotic, beautiful, somewhat dangerous reputation, though he thought the same likely was true of Carai, as seen from a distance.
    "All right Dax, unless you make me a bad offer, I'm in."
    Daxar beamed, and considered, "Let's talk specifics, and gold, at my