TKC 309
My stomach continues to roil even after Damin and Ross dump
Lorn Makar in the small and insulated chamber. Never had I used a talent to
cause harm and I do not know how to deal with the result of my actions.
Retreating to sit legs drawn up opposite where Lorn lies, I remain
silent. Damin flicks me a searching look, but as the focus must be with our captive
he soon turns away. Suddenly I feel bereft.
Siri sits beside me, briefly leaning her shoulder against
mine in support. She understands. Now I do not feel as lonely.
Leffandir paces, her face expressionless. She looks at no
one; she has focused her attention inward.
Siri healed Lorn enough for the man to be conscious and
Enris props him up against the padded wall opposite me and Siri. Enris crouches
at the man wounded feet. “Well done, Commander,” he murmurs, indicating the two
bolts that felled the man.
Gennerin stares down wordless. He holds a small crossbow in
one hand, a new bolt attached. Lorn Makar will not get away from him, even if
he was able to. “The crossbow is silent,” Gennerin eventually remarks in answer
to Enris.
“Indeed,” my brother murmurs. “Unfortunately, Lorn was a bit
vocal.”
“They will be looking for him now,” Damin says in a grim
tone. Jerking his head at Kay, he indicates that he and the westerner take up positions
at the torn hole. There the two men stand guard; Ross, upon sign from his
commander, joins them.
It is time for Lorn to talk. Gennerin stands at the man’s
left, while Mirlin hunkers to his right.
Enris stares into our uncle’s two-toned blue eyes. “Talk.”
Lorn is lucid, although agony assails him, clear in the way
he twitches. “Boy, I have nothing for you.”
“Then you die now.”
“If I die, your father does as well. Go ahead; my son is
ready to sit on the throne back on Makaran.”
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