The Far Shore Read Free Page A

and sat down.
    Cassius noticed a servant close to the priests moving around. One of the holy men glared at him.
    ‘We bow to you, our king,’ announced Vyedra.
    Indavara nudged Cassius. ‘Not me.’
    All the locals bowed their heads, including the priests this time.
    Cassius was still watching the servant. The man bowed briefly, then turned and picked up something from one of the food tables. Cassius looked over his shoulder. On every plate with a joint of meat was a long, sharp carving knife.
    He pointed across the hall. ‘Indavara, there!’
    ‘Quiet,’ said someone to their right.
    The servant leapt between the two priests and on to the table. The orange light of the braziers sparked off the blade in his hand.
    Indavara was already on his feet and running.
    Cassius stood up as the assassin leapt again, this time over the kneeling dignitaries.
    Indavara pounded across the flagstones towards the throne.
    Some of the guards were moving but none stood a chance of getting there in time.
    Neither will Indavara
.
    Cassius picked up a large, empty wooden jug and threw it at the assassin. The jug bounced once, then skittered into the man’s ankle. He stumbled and fell to one knee, skidding on the smooth stone floor. As he struggled back up again, he shouted: ‘For Solba!’
    King Orycus shrank back into the throne.
    The quicker guards were still yards away.
    The assassin raised the blade high and jabbed it down at the king’s neck.
    His arm froze in mid-air.
    Eyes wide, the assassin looked down at the big, scarred hand gripping his wrist. He couldn’t see the second hand but he could feel the fingers digging into his neck.
    Indavara held him there as the guards closed in around them. Before he could do anything more, the assassin cried out. Indavara watched as blood seeped from the corner of the man’s mouth. He looked down and saw the king’s red-streaked blade slide out of the assailant’s gut.
    The man shuddered then suddenly went limp. Indavara let go and the guards took hold of him. The face of the would-be assassin was impossibly young, his cheeks marked with the spots of a teenager. Indavara backed away from the throne, leaving the king standing there alone, holding the bloodied sword in his hand.
    ‘All praise the king!’ came a shout from somewhere.
    ‘All praise the king!’
    Suddenly everyone was shouting.
    Cassius hurried over to Indavara, who shook his head when their eyes met.
    ‘That was too close.’
    ‘Could have been the shortest reign in history,’ replied Cassius. ‘Good work.’
    ‘Good work by whoever threw that jug. Slowed him down just enough.’
    ‘It was me. I threw it.’
    ‘You?’
    The soldiers half dragged, half carried the assassin out of the hall, leaving a trail of blood on the flagstones.
    Speaker Argunt came over and gripped their arms in turn. It took him a while to get out any words. ‘All of Karanda thanks you both. What speed of thought and action.’
    Cassius turned to Indavara, who gave a rare nod of approval.
    Vyedra came past and grabbed one of the older soldiers.
    ‘Four men to stand by the king. I want every one of these servants replaced. And take anything that looks like a weapon outside. The meat can be cut in the kitchens.’
    Speaker Argunt then tried to address the crowd but with his diminutive height, few people could see him, let alone hear him. One of the soldiers had taken the blade from the king, who had sat down and now looked rather dazed, his crown in his lap. After a few moments, he put it back on, stood up and raised his hand. Even the servants being herded out of the room and the soldiers herding them stood still and silent. Orycus beckoned Argunt forward, then whispered in his ear. The older man spoke:
    ‘Clear a space at the table there! The king will eat with our Roman friends.’
    The crowd answered with a roar.
    It was in fact more than an hour before Cassius and Indavara actually got to eat something. They were seated on either side of the