Free Cry of the Newborn by James Barclay Page B

I find your implication offensive.' Yuran's face was red in sunlight that was beginning to fade towards evening. 'My people know I do everything I can. I grieve for every one of them that dies on behalf of the Conquord while those that would defend them are pressed into campaign service in Tsard. Your attempts to sow suspicion are beneath contempt.'
    Jhered smiled, a bleak expression. 'I merely want to ensure everyone receives that to which they are entitled. The Exchequer is an easy target for blame. I have simply asked that all angles be considered.'
    They walked on, Jhered's experienced eye assessing damage and cost, his mind calculating, storing information. Perhaps this visit wasn't such a waste after all. This town had been hit hard, very hard for one so far from the border. It would suffer in the short term.
    Yuran stalked just behind him, the waves of outrage washing from him. Praetor Gorsal walked to his left, a distance between them. She was tight-lipped, clearly not trusting herself to speak further.
    A few yards ahead of them, a man shambled out into the street from a broken doorway. He was unshaven, filthy. His hair was lank and his face held a despair that touched Jhered's heart. He saw them, took them all in. His eyes settled on Jhered. His expression changed, darkened. He grabbed a piece of broken pottery and rushed at the Gatherer.
    Gorsal froze, a cry stifled on her lips. Jhered swayed inside the intended blow and blocked hard with his left arm. The pottery shard flew away to shatter against the far wall. Jhered grabbed the man by his upper arms, holding him away. Phlegm sprayed into Jhered's face with every wailing word.
    'She's gone because of you, you bastard. They're both gone. We only wanted to live in peace and because of you they've taken everything. All I loved is gone.' He relaxed just a little, the cords in his neck fading. 'Back. I just want them back. Where are they? They've taken my wife and son. You have to help me. You have to.'
    The man sagged. Jhered hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him close. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, his body heavy with his pain. Jhered felt each shudder and clutched him tighter.
    'Tsard will fall,' he said, his breath ruffling the man's hair. 'The Conquord will bring it to order and everything that has been taken will be returned. God will protect your loved ones. Believe in what I say. Trust the Advocate. Trust the Conquord.
    'What is your name?'
    'Jesson.' His voice was muffled in Jhered's chest. 'Han Jesson.'
    'Be strong, Han Jesson. I am Paul Jhered. I am the Exchequer of the Gatherers and I speak for the Conquord. We will return your wife and son.'
    He released Jesson into the arms of Praetor Gorsal. She was regarding him with an expression bordering on disbelief.
    'This man should not be alone,' said Jhered. 'Listen to me. The only way to stop the raids is to conquer Tsard. That is where your taxes go, it is where your citizens are drafted. There will be peace and Atreska will bloom, its people taken to the heart of the Conquord. We are all in this battle. And we will prevail.
    'Now, to the House of Masks. I must pray for the continuing cycles of those who have fallen.'
    Chapter 6
    844th cycle of God, 40th day of Solasrise
    11th year of the true Ascendancy
    'Settle down now, come on,' said Shela Hasi, clapping her hands.
    Three of them had dissolved into laughter again and a smile even tugged at the corner of Gorian's mouth. Rare and welcome. Ten years old and so serious. It seemed he was coming to terms perhaps too early with what he was. Kessian didn't want the moment to end. But end it must and nerves were already picking away at his mind, though he would never let the children see them. Soon. It had to be soon. Today, God, please.
    The four of them had walked with Shela and Kessian up the long slope to the orchard plateau above the harbour. It was, without doubt, the most glorious day of the year so far. The sun radiated down from an unbroken