Lunatic Read Free Page B

my mind."
    "Qurong's furious over the albinos. He's forcing the general to report to the priest."
    Cassak swore. He had half a mind to go run the priest through just for spite. Could too.
    Loyalty. His general's mantra.
    Loyalty to his supreme commander before all else.
    Loyalty to his general second.
    He carried no loyalty toward the priest.
    "Captain ..."
    "Water the horse. I've a throater to kill."

e need to think," Darsal whispered. She climbed down. Silvie followed, but neither she nor Johnis answered. Johnis looked about ready to jump out the window and take off in a suicide run.
    Thus far they'd gone unheard. Lucky.
    But luck never liked to be pushed.
    Darsal motioned to Silvie and grabbed a crate on one end. Silvie joined her and picked up the other end. They hoisted the box and lowered it over the hole that opened the attic floor to the room below. It slipped.
    They steadied the crate until it rested quietly in place. The dim light snuffed out, save the window. Johnis turned to stare.
    Silvie found a long cloth and drew it over the window, stuffing the corners along the edges of the frame to hold it up.

    The room grew dark.
    "Qurong is in Middle? Now?" Silvie again. "The Guard ... The Horde-"
    "Stop!" Johnis's voice, though soft, fell like glass among them, and Silvie flinched. "Five years," Johnis rasped. "Five years and ... Middle is ..."
    "Where is Thomas?" Darsal dared ask.
    They'd been told five years would pass in Middle between their leaving and their returning. But no one had said anything about this atrocity.
    Darsal felt tricked. Betrayed. "If Qurong is here and their new general is here, then the Scabs have ..."
    No one answered.
    Thomas gone. The others probably dead. Middle infested with Scabs, with that abomination called the Dark Priest.
    But ... how?
    "Dead." Silvie's blue eyes narrowed to slits and fixed on the floor, groping at knives that weren't there. The girl's parents had been killed by Scabs. One blade was all Silvie of Southern needed to fulfill her vow of revenge.
    "Or Scab." Darsal felt like the walls of the storage room were closing in, threatening to crush all three of them. The floor seemed to warp.
    Maybe it would collapse. Expose them to the enemy.
    "They've killed the entire Guard," Silvie said. "They'd have to. No one defeats the Guard. Unless the traitor ..."

    Darsal drew a sharp breath and blinked. "This is what we saved those bloody books for? This? After-"
    "Stop!" Johnis struck her. Darsal staggered back, more startled he'd hit her than actually hurt.
    Silvie caught Darsal before she could fall to the ground and righted her. "Johnis, keep it down." Thank Elyon, Qurong was shouting too loudly to hear them.
    Darsal pushed off. "I am not turning Horde, and I am not going to die like a rat in a cage."
    Johnis wasn't seeing Silvie or Darsal. "No, no ..." He darted back toward the crates and scaled up toward the window.
    Silvie tugged at his ankle.
    He shook her off. "Kiella, my parents. My mother ..:' His voice caught in his throat and lodged there.
    Rosa. Darsal groaned. Oh no. Not again.
    "Johnis, come down," Silvie whispered. "We'll have to find them. They didn't kill all of them. We'll just have to find the Guard and warn them."
    He was already pushing up the window, scooting something around to make more room. He kicked loose of Silvie and swung his leg up.
    Darsal grabbed him and jerked him down. She and Silvie both caught his flailing form and lowered his struggling, writhing mass to the ground before he hit. Darsal clamped a hand over his mouth. He kicked at her.
    Silvie planted her knee against his throat and chest, leaned close, then whispered something Darsal couldn't hear. Johnis stopped fighting and grew still.

    Qurong's voice wafted up from the conference room below. Sucrow hissed a reply, and then the general spoke.
    "How much time do you need?"
    "Six, maybe eight months," Marak said. "Sucrow's throaters have their uses. Eight months at the most."
    "Do it in