Tanya Huff - Death Rites

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DEATH RITES

by Tanya Huff

Tanya Huff lives and writes in rural Ontario with her partner, four cats, and an unintentional chihuahua.

After sixteen fantasies, she wrote her first space opera, Valor's Choice (DAW, April 2000); her sequel to

Summon The Keeper, called The Second Summoning, is a DAW March 2001 release. In her spare time

she gardens and complains about the weather.

AS the sun rose and the Seventh Army rose with it, the assassin's body appeared, lifted up over the top

of the fortress wall by unseen hands.

"Marshal Arnon!"

Holding his kilt, the marshal stepped out of his tent in time to hear the soft melon crack of the assassin's

head hitting stone as the body reached the end of its arc. "Sound carries in these hills," he said

thoughtfully, threading straps through buckles and cinching them tight. Kilt secured, he glanced up first

at the wall and then at the senior of the two soldiers on guard. "Was that what you wanted me to see?"

"Yes, sir."

The marshal nodded and turned on one bare heel back toward the tent. "Tell Commander Zayit I want to

see her immediately. You have my permission to leave your post."

"Sir, if Orban is dead…"

Marshal Arnon glanced up from his breakfast. "I think we can safely say that Orban is dead,

Commander."

"Yes, sir. Orban's death—added to Visolela's and Ganit's—leaves the Seventh Army with only two

assassins. Both are very young and wouldn't stand a chance against Commander Jolan—ex-Commander

Jolan," she corrected hurriedly as the marshal's expression darkened.

"Especially as Jolan has already dealt with Orban, Visolela, and Ganit?"

Commander Zayit winced at the question clearly not intended to be answered. The failure of the three

assassins was, in a sense, the marshal's failure, and he wasn't the sort of man who'd appreciate the

reminder.

They'd effortlessly regained the three villages that had fallen under the ex-commander's control, but First

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and Second Divisions together had not yet been able to come up with a way to pry her out of her hilltop

fortress—which wasn't surprising since the place had fallen to Imperial expansion originally by betrayal

from within. All three dead assassins had managed to get inside the walls but with Jolan expecting

them…

A coin hit the table in front of her. Startled, she looked up to see the marshal's amber eyes locked on her

face.

"Crescent for your thoughts, Commander?"

"I was just thinking about the situation, sir."

"Yes, the situation." His lip curled. "It's beginning to look as though a siege is my only choice. So much

for a quick and glorious end to Jolan's treason."

"Yes, sir." A siege had been his only choice from the moment he'd allowed the ex-commander's small

army to reach the hill fort. Too bad it had taken the lives of so many good soldiers to prove it to him.

"You're thinking again. How long was the siege in '64?" he continued before she could work out the

response he required.

Zayit waited until he finished wiping his face with a damp cloth and said, "Almost two years, sir."

"Seventeen years ago." He indicated to his body servant that the table could be cleared. "And Jolan was

there."

"Yes, sir."

"How long do you think she was planning this… rebellion."

Probably from the moment some pissant third cousin of the Emperor was promoted over officers who

actually knew what they were doing. "I don't know, sir."

"No. Of course not."

Zayit stepped out of the way as Arnon stood and strode purposefully from his tent, falling into step

behind his left shoulder as he passed. When he stopped at his customary place and stared toward the

fortress, she wondered if he was thinking about the men and women who, by his command, had charged

the narrow approach and died. Not once, but twice.

"/ think we can safely say she's stocked up on arrows, rocks, and oil," had been the marshal's only

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Tanya Huff - Death Rites

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