The Mongoliad Book Three

Fieschi’s eyes darted toward Ocyrhoe.

 

“While I may not be leaping to your aid, Cardinal Fieschi, I cannot—in good conscience—let this girl return to Rome with you. Not after you tried to blame all of your current troubles on her. Letting you keep her would be akin to throwing her to the lions, don’t you think?”

 

Fieschi’s lip started to curl, and Ocyrhoe was worried that he might press his argument with the Emperor, but he came to a decision. “Keep her,” he snapped. “If she ever enters Rome again...” He left the threat unfinished, stalking out of the tent before any more could be said.

 

Ocyrhoe watched him go, both stunned and awed by what had just transpired. It had been delightful to watch the Emperor castigate the Cardinal, and in the end it had turned out as Léna had wished. She was safe, and out of Rome.

 

“Well,” the Emperor said in the silence that filled the tent in the wake of Fieschi’s departure. “That was an interesting conversation.” He looked at Ocyrhoe. “And here you are,” he noted.

 

Ocyrhoe had presence of mind to bow before the Emperor. “Here I am,” she said quietly, her mind still awhirl.

 

Frederick leaned forward, peering at Ocyrhoe. “Why did the Cardinal bring you along?” he asked. “Is it because he thought you might be useful to him?”

 

“They... they are my friends,” she said.

 

“And because they are your friends, Fieschi thought you might influence them, yes? Perhaps turn them against me?”

 

“I don’t know what the Cardinal was thinking,” Ocyrhoe admitted.

 

“I’m not sure he did either,” Frederick murmured. “It is true that I gave your friend and the priest horses,” he continued. “The Cardinal will send riders out to find them, and given the priest’s condition, I doubt they will be lost very long, and that concerns me because, unlike the Cardinal who prefers strut about and squawk denial like an outraged peacock, I am concerned that the priest is carrying something he shouldn’t. Something dangerous.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

 

 

 

The Fight for Hünern

 

 

 

Kim took a deep breath as he stepped out of his cage. He’d dreamed of the possibility of freedom, or at least dying in the act of attempting to secure his freedom, and now, he could not quite believe this might come true. The rage he had expected to be coursing through him was strangely absent. As he stood free of the cage, he felt only an all-encompassing certainty of purpose.

 

It was time to repay what had been done to him, to all of them. He met Lakshaman’s gaze and saw the same unmistakable sense of clarity in the other man’s eyes. He turned to Zug, expecting to see the same expression, but his gaze was arrested by the appearance of several Mongol guards at the entrance to the ger.

 

The guards, summoned by the Lakshaman’s noisy attempts to break the locks, were not entirely caught off guard by the escaped prisoners, but they were startled by the pair of Rose Knights. They paused a second too long, uncertain who to attack first.

 

Zug closed with the foremost of the three, intercepting a wild slash of the man’s curved sword by stepping under the cut. Zug seized the Mongol by the wrist, and levered a powerful palm strike to the guard’s elbow joint. The Mongol screamed as his elbow shattered. Zug, seizing the curved sword as the man released his hold on it, delivered a spine-snapping kick to the man’s hip that sent him careening into his companion to the left. The third Mongol’s attack was met with steel, and Zug used the momentum of the bind to wind his sword around and into the side of his enemy’s terrified face.

 

The uninjured Mongol extricated himself from his screaming friend in time to receive a death blow to the head from the sword of one of the Rose Knights, and Lakshaman pushed past the Rose Knight to shove the remaining Mongol down. He placed a foot on his chest to hold him in place, and then broke his neck with a savage heel kick to the side of his head.

 

Zug walked out of the tent with a supple insouciance that Kim found both intoxicating and infuriating. The Rose Knights trailed behind him, babbling in their tongue. Zug ignored them, walking with a purpose that seemed to agitate the young knights further with each step. Kim jogged after them, Lakshaman trailing behind him. Finally Zug stopped, looked at the young men, and then quietly shook his head. “Khan,” he said, enunciating the word clearly so that the Rose Knights would understand.

 

One of the knights nodded, and pointed off toward a line of flags that indicated the location of Onghwe’s massive tent. Zug nodded in a different direction, and the knights started jabbering at him again.

 

Zug looked at Kim. “Make them understand,” he said.

 

“Why me?” Kim retorted. “I agree with them. The Khan’s tent is that way.”

 

“I know where it is,” Zug growled. “But my naginata is stored over there.” He pointed. “I want my skullmaker.”

 

 

 

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