Return to Honor Read Free

major.
    “I said you should leave,” Emerson slurred.
    “I’ll leave when I’m damn well ready.”
    “I am your superior officer,” Emerson said. “I order you to leave.”
    “And I’m a powder mage. Field Marshal Tamas is my superior officer. Remove your hand, or I will remove it for you.”
    Through the whole exchange, Verundish had remained quiet. At Vlora’s threat she stood up and took Emerson by the arm. “Go sit down, Major,” she said. “You’re drunk.”
    Emerson jerked his arm from Verundish’s grip and tightened his own on Vlora’s shoulder. His whole body trembled. “Remove yourself, or I will throw you out the door.”
    Vlora reached up and grabbed Emerson by the front of his shirt. She kicked out with one foot, knocking his knee sideways, and brought his face down onto the table with enough force to knock the wind out of an ox. He bounced with a drunken shout, somehow still conscious, and struggled to reach for her.
    Vlora leapt to her feet and hauled Emerson up to his, holding him by both lapels, then slammed him down into the table. She was half his size, but the powder trance would allow her to manhandle five men just like him. A second thumping took the fight out of him completely.
    “Vlora,” Verundish said sharply.
    Vlora’s hands were wrapped in Emerson’s jacket, her arms shaking with rage. She could barely see through a cloud of red.
    “Vlora,” Verundish repeated, louder this time.
    Vlora let out her breath and released her grip, stumbling backward. The whole room was staring at them. She’d assaulted an officer in front of dozens of witnesses. Even if she was on Tamas’s good side, she might not have gotten away with it. Now…
    Verundish caught her by the arm. “Time for you to step outside,” she said.
    “Yeah,” Vlora muttered. She suddenly felt very small and far away, like she was looking at her actions from another place and time. How could she let herself be provoked like that?
    Vlora allowed herself to be escorted to the door, where Verundish took her by the shoulders and forced her to meet her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do to clean this up. Go on. Don’t worry about this trash. You’ve got work to do. If anyone can help you find Wohler, it’s Olem. Tell him I sent you.”
    *  *  *
    The Giggling Pig was a large whorehouse down where the Ad River flowed into the Adsea, just north of the docks in Adopest. Vlora had been in a few seedy parts of the city—either exploring with Taniel or on assignment for Tamas—but she usually stuck to the streets. She only had to open the door to see this was going to be a whole new experience.
    Soldiers lounged about the great common room with prostitutes of both sexes, all in various states of undress. Like the officers, the infantry preferred to spend the night in vice when they knew they were shipping off the next day. The drink flowed freely and dice rattled. Raucous laughter filled the room, and it smelled of beer and sex.
    Vlora took a deep breath of outside air and stepped inside. She half expected the whole room to freeze, turning to look at her, like when the villain steps on stage during a comedic play. But the only person who seemed to notice her was a tiny old woman in a rough-spun dress and apron.
    The woman’s head bobbed in a half curtsy, taking in Vlora’s rank insignia and silver powder-keg pin with sharp eyes. “Good evening, Captain,” she said. “My name’s Madame Gourina, and welcome to the Giggling Pig. What’s your pleasure this morning?”
    Vlora licked her lips, wondering when was the last time she shared a bed. Oh, right. That asshole she let seduce her, putting her in this whole mess. “I’m looking for Captain Olem,” she said.
    “And who can I say is looking for him?”
    “Captain Vlora.”
    Gourina gave her a pained look. “Captain Olem? I haven’t heard of him.”
    “Excuse me? You just asked…”
    “I’m old and addled, Captain. You’ll have to excuse me, I must not have