Dark Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

soldiers and most’ve our volunteers in the first attack.’
    ‘At least post another scout by Suggate, man!’ Noetos growled. ‘We need some warning if they outflank us.’
    ‘Aye, well, send one of your men.’
    ‘It’s already done.’
    Cohamma’s features went flat at his words.
    ‘Then stop jawin’ and incline yer milit’ry brain t’ getting’ these salties outta the city.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Noetos offered a lazy salute, and just like that effective command of the battle had been handed to him. He took in the scene around him: several soldiers, having witnessed his confrontation with the captain, watched him warily in the dimming light. He wondered if any other commanders had survived the Neherians’ initial attack. Soldiers were normally quartered in barracks within the Raceme Fortress or under the Summer Palace, and both places had been outflanked early in the conflict and were now well behind enemy lines. Unlikely, then, that his command of the remaining forces would be challenged.
    My defences. For now.
    A slow hour passed behind the barricades. Dagla sat propped against an oaken table, eyes closed, his left shoulder all over with blood. His chest was moving though. Good. Noetos had become quite fond of the boy. Gawl stood beside Dagla, alternating between poking his head over the barrier and ducking down to check on his…well, his friend. Noetos smiled. His ‘army’ of miners was doing just fine. Further down the line of carts and furniture Seren stood, talking quietly with Tumar, and Anomer and Arathé, who had just joined them. Beyond that, nothing but the rainsoaked gloom.
    Noetos walked over to his children, his mind crammed with a dozen different opening lines. Suddenly nervous, he chose one without thinking.
    ‘If you wanted me to wash, Arathé, you could have waited for this rain to do the job,’ he said.
    As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d made the wrong choice. The rain suddenly picked up in intensity, roaring all around them, and hail began to fall. For a vain moment Noetos hoped the noise had masked his foolish words. He became suddenly detached, as though a copy of him watched as they impacted upon his daughter, then his son, and saw their faces harden. Angry tears started from Arathé’s eyes.
    ‘Muhh vih (clap) eeah (clap), you maay (clap) (finger flick) oh (clap)!’
    She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, seemingly unaware of the hail clattering around them.
    ‘Mother’s dead, and you make a joke?’ Anomer interpreted, his voice flat.
    ‘The joke wasn’t about your mother’s death. I’ve told you how much I regret that.’
    Anomer took a sharp breath. ‘Arathé has today learned that her mother has been killed. Worse, despite my explanation, she seems to think it may have been her father’s fault. You certainly think you had something to do with it; she’s been in your mind, remember. And we stand here discussing this while under siege by the Neherians. Do you think this is a time for humour?’
    ‘Find shelter!’ people cried somewhere in the distance. ‘Get under cover!’ The words barely registered in Noetos’s mind.
    There is so much of your mother in your face, son, he wanted to say, but he knew the words could not be spoken, not now. In your face, and in your words .
    ‘No. No more humour,’ he said. ‘But I admit to being surprised that my daughter would react this way towards me before giving me a chance to explain what happened, or even before I could tell her how glad I am to discover she is alive. Arathé, we have a great deal to talk about. Can we leave any further impromptu swimming until then?’
    His daughter turned her face to him and, even in the gloom, he saw the unnatural flash of her eyes. In that moment he began to realise how dangerous his daughter might be. Pushing him off the wharf may have been a mild response.
    The hail pounded on the cobbles around them. The table offered shelter of a sort, but