There he found a table with empty glasses, pitchers of lemon water, and trays of sliced fruit. On the trays were tiny forks, and he picked one up as he walked to the latrine door. Opening it, he glanced to ensure no one was watching, then jammed the fork tines into one of the hinges, snapping them off with a twist of his wrist.
His skin pebbled with cold as he availed himself of the facilities, returning to discover the boy frantically trying to shut the door, with little success. Keris walked past him, the room now filled with excessive quantities of steam, which more than hid his fair complexion as he made his way to the
There was no mistaking the relief in her eyes. Snapping her fingers, she waited for a boy to appear, barber’s chair, settling himself into it with his back to the pool just as the boy managed to get the door closed.
“What more can we do? With the commander distracted, we’d thought that we’d gain traction,” a woman’s voice said. “But no one is taking the bribes. No one is responding to threats. It’s time to resort to force. To beatings. To imprisonment. Only fear will loosen tongues on the location of their stronghold.”
“Mmmm.” Keris recognized the big man’s deep rumble. “To do so carries the risk of the people Unlike Maridrinian bathhouses, which were usually dark, Keris was led into a large open chamber blaming our Imperial Majesty for their suffering rather than them understanding she seeks to protect them. We need to make Arakis see that the rot must be cut out to save the victim.”
The barber approached. “How do you wish to be shaved, sir?”
“Get rid of it all,” Keris muttered, trying to keep his focus on the conversation while the man sharpened his razor. It had been many years since he’d allowed a barber near his throat.
“How then, Welran?” Anger raised the woman’s voice. “While you have been in Arakis less than a month, I’ve been stationed here for two years, trying to catch the wretch and his followers. My
“The rest of your clothes, sir,” the boy said. Keris pulled off his shirt and trousers, noting the boy’s patience for coddling the masses thins. Nightly, the rebels splash their slander across the walls and buildings of Arakis, only for all to lift their hands in innocence when dawn brightens the sky. My soldiers are attacked and murdered whenever they are caught alone, forced to take a fellow to guard their back while they squat. The city is against us. They are as much our enemy as the Maridrinians.”
The big man that she’d called Welran made a sharp noise. “Keep your voice down.”
Chastised, the woman fell silent, and the conversation stuttered as the barber began to soap Keris’s the water splashed his injury. The soldiers he’d followed were barely visible through the steam, their face.
“Maridrina is as weak as it has ever been,” Welran eventually said. “Fleet lost to the Tempest Seas, soldiers filling the bellies of Ithicanian sharks. The time to take back Nerastis is nigh, but that doesn’t mean we turn our back on this threat.”
grit that floated away to the drain stained slightly red from old blood. God help him, but it felt good to
“We know the commander took the bait,” the woman said. “Once word arrives that Bermin has
killed him, the rebellion will fall to pieces.”
They don’t know, Keris realized, muttering a negative to the barber’s query about a mustache. Word has yet to come from Devil’s Island.
“He’s always been a clever bastard,” Welran answered. “And in all these long years, he’s yet to put her before his band of rebels. I would not be so quick to think that he will now.”
The barber’s razor scraped over his skin with expert ease, and Keris’s focus on the conversation slipped. He’d never been comfortable allowing another man to hold a blade to his throat, and Keris watched him, looking for any sign of ill intent. Which was why he saw the barber’s eyes widen with alarm.
Boots thudded against the glass tiles, and Keris caught hold of the barber’s wrist to force the blade secured two towels, wrapping one around his waist and draping the other over his head. He moved to away from his throat even as he turned his head. But the soldiers weren’t here for him.
Instead, they strode to the pool. “General, a ship has arrived with news.”
Unable to see what was going on, Keris held his breath, as did the barber, who seemed not to trays were tiny forks, and he picked one up as he walked to the latrine door. Opening it, he glanced to notice Keris’s grip on his wrist.
ensure no one was watching, then jammed the fork tines into one of the hinges, snapping them off with
“Well, what is it?”
A scuff of boots, muttered words, but Keris didn’t miss the rebels are allied with Maridrina and Ithicana.
frantically trying to shut the door, with little success. Keris walked past him, the room now filled with
“Fuck,” he muttered, and the barber echoed the sentiment, the rest of the messenger’s words hidden beneath the noise of the fountains.
Silence stretched, then Welran said, “There is more. Spit it out.”
barber’s chair, settling himself into it with his back to the pool just as the boy managed to get the door The messenger heaved in a breath. “It is news of His Highness, Prince Bermin. They say he was slain.”
It felt like all the air sucked out of the room, and then a bellow of grief and rage shattered the silence. Keris reacted on instinct, diving out of the chair and away from the pool, dragging the barber with him.
Welran surged from the water, manhood slapping against his legs as he gained his footing on the slick tile. The messenger staggered backward, but the big man lunged and caught hold of his cloak.
With a howl that seemed more beast than human, he smashed his giant fist into the man’s face. Again and again, holding the messenger upright while he shattered the man’s skull into bloody pulp, then tossed him into the pool.
“I will have vengeance,” he roared, picking up the chair Keris had been sitting in and smashing it against the tiles. “I will have blood!”
“How then, Welran?” Anger raised the woman’s voice. “While you have been in Arakis less than a Keris and the barber stumbled over each other as they retreated, Welran smashing the bathhouse while patrons and staff screamed and fled, the soldiers staying well out of reach of their general’s rage.
“Death to every rebel!” Welran screamed, spinning in a circle. “I will burn you all to ash before I turn on your Maridrinian master!”
His eyes fixed on Keris and the barber, and the barber squeaked, “He’s Maridrinian!”
Welran’s eyes bulged, and then he was sprinting toward Keris, bloody fists raised.
Chastised, the woman fell silent, and the conversation stuttered as the barber began to soap Keris’s Keris ran.
Leaping over the divans in his path, he slipped on the wet tile and nearly fell. Catching his balance, he raced to the front door, the glass cracking beneath the impact of his palms as he slammed it open.
Slush splashed his legs as he ran into the street, towel clutched in his hand.
It was madness.
People were screaming and running away, but from both ends of the street, soldiers on horseback approached.
Word
He was trapped.
Boots thudded against the glass tiles, and Keris caught hold of the barber’s wrist to force the blade of the messenger’s words hidden
The messenger heaved in a breath. “It is news of His Highness, Prince Bermin. They say he was slain.”
It felt like all the air sucked out of the room, and then a bellow of grief and rage shattered the silence. Keris reacted on instinct, diving out of the chair and away from the pool, dragging the barber with him.
Welran surged from the water, manhood slapping against his legs as he gained his footing on the slick tile. The messenger staggered backward, but the big man lunged and caught hold of his cloak.
With a howl that seemed more beast than human, he smashed his giant fist into the man’s face. Again and again, holding the messenger upright while he shattered the man’s skull into bloody pulp, then tossed him into the pool.