The Last Narkoy: Gathow: Book 2 by Elizabeth Price (good e books to read .txt) 📗

“Speaking of leaving,” Cidele called out as she entered. In her hands, she carried a large crock of soup. “How long are you going for?” she asked, setting the crock down on the table. She glanced over to Garric and gave him a quick smile. “Garric.”

“Cidele,” he nodded back complacently.

Sedom lifted the lid to the crock, inhaling deeply. “Holinbroth?” she asked. As Cidele nodded, her eyes were tense on Sedom as she waited for an answer. “For as long as it takes. I don't know what to expect yet.” Sedom answered as she dipped her finger into the broth to taste it.

Cidele slapped her hand away. “Bowls,” she scolded.

Garric proceeded into the kitchen and returned with bowls and spoons for the three of them. Cidele took two bowls, filling one for Sedom, then one for herself, but not for Garric. She received a glaring, fiery glance from Sedom as she handed Garric her bowl.

“He is my servant and my friend. You will show him the same respect as you would anyone else,” she warned Cidele.

When Cidele tried to speak, her voice wavered. “It’s hard to show a monster like him any respect. Remember, he did kill Asa,” she stated with icy words.

Sedom took the empty bowl, filling it. “What I hear she had a mouth on her. If she would have remained silent, then she'd still be alive,” Sedom grumbled back, then turned to Garric. “Am I correct in assuming that?”

Garric's eyes turned to his soup. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Like I said, we needed her. She was the sister of the Braum. If nothing else the bounty from her would have been worthwhile keeping her alive. It wasn't my fault-”

“That her skull was bashed in?” Cidele yelled. She set down her bowl to brace herself against the table. “That woman died because of you, not someone else, but you personally strung her upside-down and… and drove her over horrible terrain allowing her to smash her head into the transport walls over and over and--”

Sedom grabbed Cidele's arm, pushing her away from the table, positioning herself between the two.

“Look, he's serving out a life sentence here with us now. The Braum has forgiven him for the acts against his sister. Even Zion manages to get along with him and he was Garric's prisoner. I suggest you put it behind you as well,” she warned.

Cidele looked over Sedom's shoulder to Garric, who was now sitting at the table staring down at his soup.

“Fine, only because you ask me to,” she grumbled back. “Know he will always be the enemy in my eyes.”

Sedom squeezed Cidele's shoulder. “It's not easy for me either, but I believe he's good for a second chance.”

The com on Sedom's desk beeped. Sedom rushed into her office, stumbling over boxes of supplies to reach the com by the door. “Sortec,” she called out.

“Sortec, our guests are here,” Zion called back.

“I'll be right there.” She returned to the dining room to find Cidele still glaring at Garric. He sat nervously at the table, attempting to ignore her.

“Garric you're with me,” she ordered with a snap of her fingers. “Cidele...” She paused, shaking her head in frustration. “Good soup.”

“You didn't even try it,” Cidele called back as the two left.

The two walked out into the empty streets of Gathow, towards the ship-bay where Sedom believed Zion was calling from. She was so frustrated with Garric and Cidele's argument that she forgot to ask where he was calling from and she was too full of pride to call him back.

Thankfully, she was correct. When they arrived in the ship bay, Zion and his two friends were waiting. Above them, several orbs hovered in formation, all of them beaming red and on alert.

“Sortec, danger,” called one of the orbs.

She held up her hand, causing the orbs to back away.

The first man she was certain was Qilo, a muscular Dormin male with cropped black hair and wide-set silver eyes. The second man instantly caused Sedom alarm, forcing her hand to her pistol. He was an equally tall, dark-skinned Clove man. His head was shaved bald except for an area of hair near the upper back of his head. From that area, he had grown his hair long and tied it into a four-foot-long braid. What bothered her most were his Marisheio Empire tattoos which cover his arms, back, neck and scalp.

“Zion!” Sedom called out. “What's with the Marisheio?” she called in his language.

“Calm yourself, Chadon. This is Rosanheer Torreh. We’re old friends,” Zion introduced.

Rosanheer offered his palm to Sedom, first moving aside his rifle, which was wrapped around his shoulder. “Chadon, a pleasure to serve you,” he returned, his words forced from his lips as if he was trying too hard.

Sedom accepted his handshake, but her eyes remained on Zion as if to ask if he were mental, allowing a Marisheio access to Gathow.

Zion still could pick up on her anxiety without reading her. “Rosanheer and I also go way back. He's served the Underground now for how long?”

“Four years,” Rosanheer grumbled back as if he didn’t care much for working for the Underground. “I have no love for the Empire… any Empire, not just the Marisheio.”

“You have no problem killing Marisheio?” she asked bluntly.

“No Chadon. I do it all the time. I killed a group of them a few days ago near Ortees. They wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he smiled back with a sly grin.

“Makes me wonder what the question was.” Sedom nodded slowly, her tongue flicking at her back tooth as she thought. “You were the cause of all the explosions?” she questioned.

Rosanheer shrugged. “Hey, I warned them to leave me alone. But they don’t care much for traitors and one thing led to another,” he admitted, shrugging