Читать книгу Conquest of Noomas - Charles Nuetzel - Страница 9
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
TROUBLED REUNION
I. Kigor Dorta
Kigor was lecturing on the art of defensive dueling, before a select class of young warriors, when the message arrived. The interruption was annoying.
Eager men and women crowded the large hall, clambering to learn from this famed teacher, and master swordsman who was in high demand across the country. Every academy in the realm sought his lectures and paid hefty fees for the privilege of his unsurpassed tutelage.
He had standing orders never to be interrupted under any circumstances during these lectures. So he was alarmed when the young courier stepped toward him holding an envelope with Proctor Romos’ seal. He immediately opened and read the message.
Come. Helandi connected.
Turning back to the podium, calmly dismissing the students with a brief apology, Kigor hastily left the lecture hall allowing no questions to be asked.
During the flight back home to Bel-loniea the courier told him of Adt’s return.
“He brought a young woman with him. She is from the Northern Territories…a place called Helandi?”
A smile swept across Kigor’s handsome features.
How ironic, he reflected, a woman from the land of Adt’s birth.
Helandi was where he had met Adt’s mother. Kigor’s memory shot back to the brief seasons spent with the only woman he had ever loved. The resulting son had become his life’s responsibility, the only thing more important than his dedication to Proctor Romos. Even without Muti instructions he would have taught the boy everything he knew about the sword.
Stillness blanketed the city as Kigor arrived at the Dorta Estates before dawn.
Adt would most certainly be found in his old suite in the residential west wing sector. The majority of the manor housed administrative offices and tutorial studios required to operate the Dorta Academy. The gym, the sparring rooms, and lecture halls were practical spaces for extensive combatant-play. Few students passed all his challenges. This was where Adt had refined his mastery of the sword, as a child growing up in these family estates.
Kigor hurried to the back wing, where his son’s personal quarters were located. He stood just outside the door, rigid; taking in the room which had been empty for so long. He wasn’t a man who easily experienced emotional reactions to anything. Long years of practice had trained him to hold feelings down beneath thickly constructed armor. He had always told his students that in battle there was no room for distractions. Yet as a pragmatist he had not ignored the fact that death is fated in war.
The notion of Adt having died had never completely impacted Kigor. None could match Adt’s abilities with the sword, but skill alone, could not protect a warrior forever.
His son had been reported dead in battle.
But the urgent message today, stated he was alive.
Until he saw Adt in the flesh, breathing, alive, Kigor would not allow himself to believe it. He had to learn the truth for himself.
Now he gazed at the scene, taking it in like a soothing cocktail. Young Dorta was lying in bed next to a stunning young woman. The sight of the lovers said enough. Seeing him there, lying peacefully in the bed, next to the lovely woman, sent a warm wave of contentment through Kigor.
With a calmed spirit, he left the estate and hurried to meet with Proctor Romos.
On the palace grounds, firm salutes from all sentries greeted Kigor Dorta the sword master of Bel-loniea, famed throughout the civilized world for his unsurpassed skill.
Upon approaching the Proctor’s resident wing, he hardly paused. He just nodded to the officer rigidly standing guard at the corridor.
The man saluted and stepped aside.
“You are expected.”
“Yes,” Kigor acknowledged in his richly deep voice.
Gliding down the hall, his graceful combination of militant march and swordsman’s gait formed the flowing dance of a lean, tightly wired man of razor sharp muscles tempered to a fine edge. The beard he had recently trimmed was brushed neatly in place. Steel-blue eyes narrowed as he approached the open door of the Proctor’s living quarters.
The room beyond was formal, comfortably furnished. A settee pressed against wall-to-wall bookcases. The adjoining library frequently hosted guests, such as chief advisors and friends.
Romos stepped from behind his desk when Kigor entered. Neither man spoke. Then they moved closer, placing hands to shoulders in the natural warm greeting of old colleagues and tight friends who, long before the births of their children, had shared combat forays from their cadet days. They had both been assigned to the missions into the Northern Territories during the plains conflicts long ago. Kigor never forgot those early voyages with the younger Proctor. They had earned their rites to manhood in those days, braving the frigid tempests of the Helandian fields.
The Proctor motioned with his hand.
“Sit.”
Kigor lowered himself into the settee and Romos started pacing, hands behind his back, chin up, head arched and deep in thought. The Proctor’s words were solemn.
“Serious international issues have arisen far sooner than any of us anticipated. Our world order will soon be challenged. All of our nations are at risk.
“The continent beyond the sea has become overrun by a Muti-driven empire. They are spreading quickly and are now threatening our nations.
“Helandi has made rapid advancements to halt their progress. Adt is deeply involved.”
Kigor stiffened upon hearing his son’s name, for the mention of Helandi in the summons had been a blunt link to Adt.
The Proctor sat down next to his comrade relating his meeting with Adt and the woman named Sarleni.
Romos spoke about a Messenger Adt and Sarleni had encountered. Something about a microsliver they had delivered to Andon Janis. But Kigor was heavily focused on the newly emerged presence of his son, Adt Dorta.
“So my son is already intimately connected,” Kigor said, with both pride and parental concern.
“More than you could imagine. He’s expected in Helandi.
“My dear friend, it has been our secret shared with the Mutis who supervised his growth. He was prepared.”
“For what?”
The Mutis had made no explanation during Adt’s training. Their silence had implied the obvious.
“She has emerged,” Romos stated. “My Muti has said Adt met her.”
It was Kigor’s turn to speak. Instead, he maintained silence. The pain was too deep: for he knew precisely that Romos was alluding to the Helandian woman who had stolen Kigor’s heart.
The mood had shifted.
The Proctor rose in the manner of a tired Traztu beast, stretching to his full height. He now assumed his official role as leader of a nation-state.
“We have been aware of occasional rumors about uprisings on the other side of the world. In previous times, Kamina was spoken of only in whispers. Those stories have since been substantiated.”
He held up his hand.
“Andon has access to the information brought back by Adt. We must act. And fast. We must draw upon all our known resources.
“Torlo Hannis will be commissioned. I’ll be seeing him today. We will be relying on his galactic experience. His abilities may be crucial if we are forced into an international war.
“Your reputation will be vital to the formation of a multi-national defense force. General Qui Shan and a number of other prominent military experts have been summoned. National doyens are being informed, as we speak. However, we have been warned to be careful about involving Mutis beyond our inner circle, until we have more information.”
That might prove difficult, Kigor worried.
Mutis could reach into a man and discern his thoughts and sometimes his future. Even so, the Muti were reluctant to specifically predict or reveal what they saw. Usually they would reply in cryptic form. Visions reflected on distant variables which did not concern people directly.
Thus, Kigor habitually avoided contact with these strange creatures who favored distance and isolation.
Romos raised his voice.
“Kigor, you will tell Adt everything. Right away! He and Torlo shall be trusted. As shall the Janis’ Muti. Trust it: None other at this time.”
His words sharpened.
“I am appointing you joint commander. You will consult with selected staff to enlist the services of the highest qualified warriors. Your international influence will bring together an Elite Force. You must all become thoroughly familiar with the data your son retrieved from the Messenger. I believe he was called Talni. Once briefed, the Elite will delegate tasks to their staff. Strategic plans must be kept under tight wraps for the officers of the security units assigned by Torlo.”
He chuckled hesitantly; then grew serious.
“Oh, my friend, it is a mess! We’re in a very real clash of more than mere nations. This isn’t a quarrel between municipalities or cultures over land or privileges; no political strife between villages or tribes.
This is far more severe. The Muti has risen against the human. They are not asking for rights or space. No! They want to annihilate us and erase all people from the planet!
We must shape an Armada to strike against a continental nation that calls itself an Empire: Kamina.”
Romos’ face softened as he looked at his old friend. “Kigor, seek your son. Hold nothing back. I have a meeting soon with Andon and others. I’ll keep you informed. We’ll meet later today, perhaps.”
The Proctor turned to his desk, and their meeting was over.
* * * *
Upon returning to his estates, Kigor dismissed all inquiries, wanting only to speak with his son.
There were no ceremonious accolades when they stepped into his office together, though the invariable feeling of shared, unspoken kindness was ever present between them. Father and son were not personal friends, beyond the parental bond of kinship. The warmth was real, and could be intense. He deeply loved his son. And the emotions were thickly layered between them. Yet for the most part they had been student and teacher until the young man eventually out-classed even his father.
It was clearly obvious that Adt had grown, and the serious look in the eyes of this fully matured man facing him was unsettling. This was a warrior who had seen things beyond the ordinary.
His son had changed.
Both men moved like silky shadows, their bodies honed as master swordsmen.
Kigor placed a hand warmly on Adt’s wide shoulder.
“I’m proud of you.”
He felt a lump in his throat, coughed, then hesitated a moment.
“We have some catching up to do since the Diano War. And you must tell me about this woman of Helandi.”
That was as close as he could manage. Then he regained his austere composure.
Adt replied; needing few words.
“She is here at this moment.”
He tapped his head and Kigor understood the implication. Helandians had the Mind skills.
“If you wish her with us.”
Kigor shook his head.
“Not necessary.”
Adt looked thoughtfully down.
“That works. Anyway, my dear Sarleni won’t connect. She wants us to have privacy. Perhaps she is right.”
Kigor understood. Any woman of Helandian birth most likely shared similar charms that had attracted him to Adt’s mother. “What has happened?”
Adt began relating his adventures with Sarleni. Once Kigor had heard the summary of Adt’s journey, his combat with the Muti, and encounter with the Messenger, he understood the complexity of what lay ahead.
“You know Ju-bilee is your mother, don’t you?”
“So she claimed, and never explained.”
“That would be like her.”
“Then tell me everything you know.”
“Everything would be personal.”
“Tell me anyway. After all, I have a right.”
Kigor swiftly parried.
“No more right than I, to ask you the same question. Tell me everything about your Sarleni!”
Adt smirked, having snared his father at his own game.
“That, too, is personal, Father.”
The older man smiled.
“Your wit has remained as sharp as your sword.”
“Sharper, since meeting Sarleni.”
“Yes. I do not doubt it.”
“I insist on respecting your privacy regarding Ju-bilee. So do me the honor of being first to speak.”
Both contestants had posed a verbal impasse. The next to react, lost the point in the match.
Kigor flexed his hands wide; then cupped fingers together. “About Ju-bilee…what a man shares with his woman, is between them. Some issues have broader boundaries. She has been invisible all these years by choice and design. Her purpose should be obvious to you. The woman is dedicated to her cause. We shared too short a journey and you were the resulting joy. Then her studies and vocation.…”
His voice broke off and his eyes were distant. Keeping the secret over all these years had been difficult. Perhaps he could share parts of the truth with his son.
“In time, son, I’ll tell you more. Right now…it is enough to say we had a love relationship and the feelings never completely submerged. I always have you to remind me.”
The man shifted nervously, then straightened, eyes snapping to Adt’s, “Your turn. What is your woman like? I realize she’s Helandian…though, I suspect, different from your mother.”
“That, she is,” Adt grinned.
“As you are different from me: I never had Ju-bilee’s genetic gifts: potent and damningly commanding.”
Adt leaned back, relating the details of his adventure to Kigor.
“Sarleni’s one bossy lady, too. We were brought together on the night of the terrible storm. It is a long story. She was struggling in a skirmish with the Diano when I found her. I managed to destroy them, but was wounded in the process. When the storm worsened, she led with commands befitting a royal Proctoress. I took her for a slavegirl. She thought I was a common hunter and made me her student, whom she bullied into learning HanJahn games! Once I grasped the concepts and the seriousness of her mission, it served.…”
Kigor listened, particularly intrigued by the interactions during their ordeal.
“At first I hated every inch of Sarleni’s lovely, deliciously beautiful, divine shape.”
“Instant love,” Kigor mused, with an inner sense of knowing. “Helandi women can charm a young man, can’t they?”
Kigor then recounted elements of his early life with Ju-bilee; enough for both men to gain an understanding of the Helandian women who had become entwined with their lives.
The duel thus ended. Father and son openly embraced with their eyes. Nothing remained clouded, hidden; nothing left unsaid. Both were blown wide open to honest love and trust. A new bonding had fused. Slowly the two men stood and the meeting concluded.
* * * *
Sarleni glanced up when Adt came through the door of their residence at the Dorta Estates. She had been getting used to their quarters: impeccably organized. Her husband’s father was obviously a very structured person.
She conversationally asked, as he hugged her, “Have you seen him, yet?”
“Yes. He’s under a lot of pressure these days, with more responsibilities than ever before.”
Then lamely added: “It wasn’t exactly how I would have planned our meeting. He is carrying a heavy burden which he keeps to himself: all private.”
Sarleni felt his uncertainty, pain, and frustration but made no effort to enter into his special mental territory. This was not the time for any Zygo. Most of their daily relationship was closer to normal than one might have expected. Habit selected the obvious. And verbal conversation was an easy fall-back.
“All these years I had believed my mother was lost forever, dead.
And now I discover that the most awesome woman I’ve ever met—the most militant, the most fearsome—turns out to be my mother! He should have told me something, at least. He should have prepared me.”
“Adt, it had to be difficult for Kigor, too. They both care deeply for you.”
He pulled her close and she took in the feelings spilling out from him.
“Well, we managed. My father shared a few things about her.”
I thought as much.
Reading my mind?
No! I try not to, without permission: difficult sometimes to ignore our connection.
“You often say, reading my mind is like breathing.”
It had been a problem for them to cross that natural bridge. They both tried to honor one another’s private spaces.
The Zygo connection requires a deep merging. And they had been the first of the Zygo duos to reach full Nexus. Toning down their strengths was sometimes difficult; so achieving complete privacy became a challenge.
You and your male privacy, she smiled, mildly amused.
Don’t you carry your own safe place in which to hide your feminine delicacies? He was calmer now.
We women keep our secrets…so you men continue to be fascinated and interested.
“And confused.”
“Confused or not.”
Her eyes met his in open tenderness.
You can let me in when it pleases you.
She had taught him about the HanJahn and the Mind Powers during their journey across the ocean. Once the link was established, the duo then utilized joint strengths which yielded capacities many factors beyond either partner’s singular potential. The ultimate Nexus which had been the goal of the HanJahn teachings, had thus far, only been attained by Adt and Sarleni. And while they were journeying, the Helandian Academy had been preparing scores on Zygo duos to follow in their footsteps.
It would fall upon Adt and Sarleni to assist the newly recruited pairs to hone their skills towards the Nexus.
“I’m glad you’re working with your father on the Messenger’s data. We’ll need to understand a great deal more about what has happened to the Muti before we leave. For soon we’ll be going to meet my family in Helandi. They are anxious to meet the handsome warrior from the mainland who captured my heart.”
She tenderly touched his cheek.
He frowned. “There are things to be resolved.”
“Reports, conferences and…I’ll want to give Torlo a detailed accounting of our story before we go.”
HanJahn methods have been designed to record memories.
“I wouldn’t doubt that Andon Janis, in his Foundation, might be working on systems along those lines.”
Adt impulsively drew her closer. Their lips touched.
An instant reading of your thoughts, my dear Adt, is not all that complicated; at least not for me.
You cheat, he joked as they kissed again.
Do we need an excuse? Sarleni challenged Adt, who was too enveloped by her to bother with an answer.
They blended together in a complete union of one.
II. Mahzit: The Public Voices
The room was dark. The young warrior’s head brutally screamed at him. Hangovers were monstrous even in Bel-loniea. He was enjoying a nasty one slamming through his skull.
Where am I? he wondered, dazed and disorientated. The air choked him with a putrid mix of vomit and raw sweat. Muffled voices distantly moaned.
Mahzit’s hands clutched his ears, hoping to drown out the loud pounding blasting at him from the rhythmic beat of his heart.
A few deep breaths refreshed his memory of the night before, crippling him into agonizing embarrassment. Impulsiveness had, apparently, dragged him into another bitter humiliation.
Mocking tones grated in his head from Sarleni’s stinging voice.
Mahzit, shame on you! You’re in a Bel-loniean tank with a bunch of other wasted sots.
Get out of my head, he groused, resentfully.
You need to fix the trouble you started.
Her scolding was evident with every word.
He groaned, inwardly relieved to feel his sister’s thoughts fade.
All he’d wanted to do was enjoy a nice evening in Bel-loniea. The long trip to Kamina and back had been stressful. They’d accomplished their mission to find Sarleni. He deserved a little relaxation with his comrades. What went wrong? How’d he end up here? He tried to remember. Memories assembled slowly.
He’d been assigned to the local barracks with the other Helandi officers from the rescue team. Having little to do that evening, they decided to visit the famous Bel-loniean Pleasure Palace. Local taverns commonly provided entertainment and comfort for warriors at the expense of the government. This was a commercial establishment highly recommended for its international flair.
Richly ornate tapestries adorned the foyer and main salons where dignitaries of Bel-loniea and wealthy international travelers were regularly welcomed. Its inner courtyard rang with half drunken revelry. Songs enlivened the atmosphere, drifting through the upper balcony where merry diners would disappear later in the evening for private partying. Shaded alcoves were hidden from view as he and his friends were ushered through a patio and into a brightly lit lounge, with its central fountain and elegant statues.
Crackling fireplaces warmly flickered in each corner. Corridors and staircases provided easy access to upper floors. The adjoining bar and booths were occupied so their hostess split them up at different tables, near a ceiling-high fireplace. They were having a splendid evening, already engaged in bold conversation with their table companions, and soon gained the attention of several attractive women. The Helandian warriors immersed themselves in the light hearted camaraderie.
Mahzit felt flushed from the drinks and as he surveyed the young ladies near the bar, an all too familiar intrusion had usurped his privacy: his sister’s voice. They’d hardly connected since he’d dropped her off at the Dorta Estates.
Sarleni, you certainly have bad timing. What do you want?
I talked to Torlo Hannis about giving you a position under his command. Expect new orders and be sharp, brother. Take advantage of your exposure to Kamina. I promised your loyalty, your dedication to duty and your intelligence. I lied a little.
Her smugness had been softly biting. He’d wrangled with Sarleni’s cutting personality since childhood. She’d grown into a cleverly determined woman.
I’m not nearly as bright as you are.
She retorted: No man is!
Actually he envied Sarleni’s relationship with her new soul mate. He wondered if that would ever happen to him: maybe someday—if he was lucky enough.
His eyes scanned across the beautiful young women and then back to a brown eyed blonde who was gazing invitingly towards him. Eager to approach her, he shot back at Sarleni. Go dance with your toy-man, then!
My Adt is special. So don’t go insulting him; at least not within hearing of his keen ears. His sword point can nick his name across your face in.…
I’m not defenseless! Mahzit feigned hurt pride.
Next to Adt you’re an amateur. Remember he’s a Dorta, son of the famous Kigor, master of the blade.
I remember.
Oh, go and impress those ladies. They’ll enjoy your charades!
Then she left his head.
Mahzit motioned the blonde to join him. She was quick to respond, sitting down next to him. He ordered drinks for both of them.
The young lady had a musically light voice. Alluring intimacy colored her words.
When the drinks came, they saluted each other, playfully teasing. The Porshi had freed up his natural male virility. He wanted to take her flesh against his own. Instead, he managed to curb his appetite to the conversation. After dinner, would be soon enough to continue their flirtation in a less public, and more secluded setting.
Mahzit was ordering Ka to finish off their meal when a voice at the next table diverted his attention.
“There’s talk of war!” Somebody muttered: “Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
“War talk is just idle nonsense clamoring at the wind,” the young blonde chided. “You men live on war talk.”
Even as she spoke, he felt a slight shift of her thigh touching his.
A gentle voice from the other table said, “War causes mass destruction. Innocent people pay heavily.”
“So what? Life is a struggle! The strong and lucky survive.”
That sneer came from a square faced man with a thick middle and beefy arms. Yelling, bickering, and drunken talk had risen to a tense pitch, reflecting the street talk of Bel-loniea. The atmosphere had switched from joviality to tense war talk.
Mahzit wanted to ignore the ruckus and concentrate on the young lady—her thigh—and the rest of her, too, later; upstairs.
He touched her shoulder, letting his fingers trace down the slender arm to delicate fingers.
“You are so strong, and I love being with a strong man like you.”
A slight shift of warm damp skin against his thigh beneath the table accented the soft voice. Mahzit was growing anxious, wanting to subtly whisk her away to a private room.
From the other table the conversation continued to blare loudly.
“…influential families support this action.”
“Can we trust anybody? Who are these Helandi foreigners? From the Northern Territories, I’ve heard! Can’t be trusted, if you ask me.”
Angry shouts annoyingly interrupted his private talk again, as he heard a serious voice.
“They say the House of Dorta is involved!”
The man opposite Mahzit picked up the debate.
“Quite frankly the rumors about Outlanders are unreliable.”
His eyes met Mahzit’s.
“We know of the Northern Primitives. But who are these Helandians? Fantasy? Young Dorta is a Kordatic fool!”
The woman next to Mahzit arched up.
“Are you calling Dorta a liar?”
“They are all suspect!” the man rasped.
“Have any of you seen this woman Dorta brought with him? No! How do we know a subnormal spirit from the Mystery Gods of Helandi has not seduced him? Nobody has ever seen this…mythical land! I will not be tainted by hearsay.”
The man’s jaw was set, stone-hard and stubbornly determined.
“She’s a dangerous demon who seduced the House of Dorta.”
Someone chimed in.
“Yes, I’ve heard about that woman. Rumors.…”
“Everybody has!” other voices echoed.
Mahzit leaped to his feet, hand gripped his sword belt.
The man glared in shock at Mahzit.
“What’s this?”
“I’m Helandi, from the Northern Territories, if you must know. Drop the subject. And apologize!”
The man scoffed with contempt.
“Apologize?”
“Or draw your sword!”
He would not sustain another insult from the woman’s verbal debates or this man’s over-bloated arrogance.
The throng seethed with anticipation.
A voice from the next table shouted.
“A duel! Clear space!”
“I don’t fight a helpless…Kordatic child.”
“I’m not helpless.”
Mahzit slowly drew his weapon.
“And you are an insolent Fiza!”
The woman gripped his thigh to communicate her caution over his challenge.
The rogue’s sword bashed against a goblet, spewing liquid and broken glass in all directions.
Voices cried out. People hustled to clear the space. The bully lifted like a riled Korda, bulging muscles rippling, as his sword crossed against Mahzit’s.
“Are you sure, rookie?” he raged loudly. “If you want this to continue, I shall prune your loins with death.”
“Do not exhaust your coffers with empty words!” Mahzit warned.
The blonde placed a hand on Mahzit’s shoulder.
“This cad isn’t worth fighting. Ignore him!”
Suddenly he had no need to impress her. She frowned, and then tilted her head, indicating the upper floor.
“Let’s leave. I prefer my lovers in one piece.”
She wanted him. And that would happen, once he had attended to this scoundrel.
“Later, after I teach this Roku a lesson in manners. He’s insulted Sarleni of Helandi!”
The brute objected indignantly. “I don’t even know the person!”
“She is the Dorta woman you dared to defile—and my sister!”
Cold ice cut across the other man’s face. The eyes hardened, the lips compressed and the man’s blade thrust out.
Mahzit lifted his sword against the other’s blade, letting the point glide into empty air. Flabbergasted by the quick parry, the bully attacked again: this time following his first thrust with a second and third; then a cut to the head.
Mahzit’s blade repelled each jab with minimal effort. He would have accepted an apology; rather than force a fight. Now it was too late to debate the issue.
Several onlookers had pushed the tables back, clearing an area for their duel.
Mainly on the defensive, Mahzit continued to block the other’s sword, foiling every counter attack. This was a drunken man, dangerous; yes. Not worth killing. He continued to parry and avoid the swinging blade dancing in front of him.
A sudden leap caused the man’s sword to come in contact with his arm. Mahzit’s blade sliced across the man’s chest, cutting the officer’s ribbon and leather shoulder strap. The man bellowed in rage.
A hushed gasp of admiration rose from the crowd as a result of Mahzit’s agile riposte. Mahzit took control, weaving his sword and dancing effortlessly around his opponent, making it obvious how easily he could carve this opponent into a trembling mass of screaming flesh.
He actually felt sorry for the fool.
The shaken officer backed away, cursing, at a generous distance, then complained caustically.
“Why must we continue?”
Mahzit had won his point. He’d gain no further profit by continuing the duel. And all he really wanted was some personal time with the woman.
Submitting a gentlemanly nod, Mahzit lowered his blade—a foolish mistake. The rogue leaped in, swinging wide.
A scream of distress sounded from a woman that almost distracted him.
With amazing agility, Mahzit twisted his blade around the other’s, slamming it down.
What happened next was a blur. Without thinking he let emotional fury send him bodily at the other man, knocking them both to the ground.
Voices shouted and men shoved in, swords drawn. Something hit the back of his head, as his opponent was being marshaled off under an escort of several armed warriors.
His adventure in the Pleasure Palace of Bel-loniea had ended when two security guards carried his body away like a limp bag.
Late in the morning, in the cell of the Bel-loniean military guardhouse, he learned the seriousness of his situation. The local authorities had halted the skirmish, and the man he had been fighting had signed charges against him for illegally dueling in public. Mahzit realized he was in deep trouble. The man was powerfully connected and bent on revenge.
What had started as a celebration had turned into a crushing defeat.
His future looked bleak.
