The Heir of Khored by Deborah J. Ross

Author:Deborah J. Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2014-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

“DANAR? Danar?” The infuriatingly persistent voice was that of an older man, one he should know. Memories tantalized him, from a time when he was much younger. He expected to be called son in the next breath.

The man spoke again. “No, leave him to me. Let him come out of it on his own.” Another voice answered from across the room. The first man said, “Stop fussing. I’ll be fine. I’ve had enough of priests! And I want every single one of those Scorpion-worshippers in irons within the hour.”

Danar’s eyes wavered open. In a rush, he came back into himself. He was lying on his side, his head and shoulders cradled against the general’s body as if he were a child. He remembered being carried up to his room after an evening’s play in these same strong arms.

As Danar pulled himself to sitting, he felt surprisingly well, perhaps as a lingering effect of Benerod’s healing. Manir clambered to his feet, drawing in his breath with the effort, then held out a hand to help Danar rise. “You all right, lad?”

“But you, sir—did he harm you? The priest?”

Gray tinged the general’s sun-reddened skin. “Shook me up a bit, but don’t tell them,” with a nod in the direction of his men, who were now carrying away the body of the priest. One guard remained, a man of middle years but lean and fit looking, with watchful eyes and a somber expression. Danar didn’t recognize him, only the ribbon insignia of the general’s personal staff.

Manir waited until the door closed, leaving only his bodyguard. The general swayed on his feet and, waving off any aid, lowered himself into the nearest chair.

“We can speak in front of Runar,” Manir said with a faint tug at the corners of his mouth that might have been a smile. “He’s seen me through worse.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The gray was already fading from his face. “Now,” he said, his voice deceptively casual, “suppose you explain to me what just happened.”

“A priest of Qr attacked you.”

“By attempting to wrench my heart from my chest from several yards away?” Manir did not open his eyes, but his voice dropped in pitch. “I may have been within a minute of explaining my sins to the Remover of Sorrows, but I know what I saw.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Danar said with a glance in the direction of the guard. “I don’t really understand it, myself. Why would a priest of any of our gods want to eliminate the Ar-King’s own general? That would be—”

“Treason as well as murder. My thought, as well. Why would the Scorpion-lovers attempt it?” Manir lifted his head and regarded Danar with unflinching directness. “Perhaps time will reveal the answer to that mystery. But Aidon politics do not explain why the priest took one look at you and fell down in a fit, or what you were doing back in my office.”

Benerod.

“I came back—I’d forgotten something,” Danar explained, “and I saw him menacing you.

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