Free Charles Ingrid - marked man 02 The Last Recall by Charles Ingrid Page B

they decided to form a nation."
    "What's the matter, Thomas—inventing new enemies now that we've got a truce with the lizards?"
    Before Thomas could retort to the man who had spoken out, Art Bartholomew interrupted. "Who says we've got a truce," he yelled back. "We've been at war with Denethan since he came to power. I say we've all been duped into doing nothing while he regroups. Just because we had a common enemy does not make him our ally."
    A hiss came from the shadowy corner of the room, by the kitchen doors. Thomas looked and saw Shankar, the Mojavan ambassador, draw his sinewy body to his full height.
    "I take offense at your remarks, Mr. Bartholomew."
    Art looked at the ambassador. His lip curled. "Take whatever you what, Mr, Ambassador. Just tell your raiders to stop stealing chickens from my farmers."
    "You have no proof!" The scaled man drew close, the teeth he bared a little too sharp for comfort.
    "No proof?" Bartholomew bulled his way out of his rank of listeners. "I've got shed skins—you name it, I can prove a lizard was there!"
    Shankar fairly shook with rage. He turned to Thomas. "Lord Protector!"
    Thomas put up one hand. "This is not a dictatorship like the Mojave, Mr. Ambassador. Mr. Bartholomew is allowed to think as he wishes. He's only in trouble if he decides to act upon it." He smiled at Bartholomew. "He has to weigh his actions against reactions to decide if it's worth it or not."
    Art Bartholomew's warty face turned livid. "Don't threaten me," he said softly, "Lord Protector or not."
    "It's not me you have to worry about. It's those untrustworthy Mojavans," Thomas returned. He drew
    Shankar aside. "As for your assumption of their guilt, I wouldn't dare suggest you look in other directions. Never mind that the nester recipe for chicken reads: first, steal a chicken." Looking beyond Bartholomew, he could see and hear the laughter, and the audience they had gathered began to turn away as the tension was defused.
    He brought Shankar with him as he stepped close to Bartholomew. He pitched his voice for their ears alone. "Art, you've been breathing down Shankar's neck ever since he arrived here. This may not be an alliance you approve of, but the Board of Mayors and Governors voted for it by a majority. I know you want to be DWP, but I suggest to you strongly that you not run on a platform of action or prejudice against those we must survive alongside."
    "Well spoken, Sir Thomas," Shankar began, but Thomas shook him to silence.
    "As for you, you fork-tongued old rogue, you quit needling those short of temper whose support we both depend on. Bartholomew has opened wells in his southern and easternmost reaches for you, and you need them. So may I suggest, gentlemen, a little compromise in temperament?"
    Bartholomew's mouth twitched. He leaned close as well and his brows narrowed to a vee. "No more chickens," he said.
    Shankar spread webbed hands. "I am sure I know not of what you speak."
    "Right. There are probably feathers all over your quarters. All right, all right." Art put his hands up. "Pax." He rocked back on his heels. "I'd like to speak with you privately, Sir Thomas, later."
    Thomas felt his eyebrow go up. "All right. If not today, then tomorrow. I've told Lady Nolan I'll help with the last of the candidate testing."
    The man with skin like a pebbled streambed nodded and stalked away. On Thomas' right, the Mojavan ambassador said, "With skin like that, he's probably one of my cousins and doesn't even know it!"
    That possibility would explain a lot of Bartholomew's bad attitude, Thomas thought, but he said only, "Oh, I think he knows it all right. A little rape between enemies doesn't help truces."
    "All the same," and Shankar put his webbed hand on Thomas' shoulder, "I cannot prove it now and all you have is my word, but the day of the massacre, I was one of my chieftain's trackers. Those who killed here and left met with a small party upon the trail leading from the peninsula. Then those trails