Last Argument Of Kings

Last Argument Of Kings Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: Last Argument Of Kings Read Online Free PDF
Author: Joe Abercrombie
Kroy, arrange for work parties to be left behind to complete the repairs to Dunbrec, and a regiment of levies to man the defences. With a commander that knows his business, please. It would be embarrassing, to say the least, if we were to lose the fortress for a second time.'
    'There will be no mistake,' snarled Kroy at Poulder, 'you can depend on it.'
    'The rest of the army can cross the Whiteflow and form up on the far bank. Then we can begin to press east and northward, towards Carleon, using the harbour at Uffrith to bring in our supplies. We have driven the enemy out of Angland. Now we must press forward and grind Bethod to his knees.' And the Marshal twisted a heavy fist into his palm by way of demonstration.
    'My division will be across the river by tomorrow evening,' hissed Poulder at Kroy, 'and in good order!'
    Burr grimaced. 'We must move carefully, whatever the Closed Council say. The last time a Union army crossed the Whiteflow was when King Casamir invaded the North. I need hardly remind you that he was forced to withdraw in some disarray. Bethod has caught us out before, and will only grow stronger as he falls back into his own territory. We must work together. This is not a competition, gentlemen.'
    The two generals immediately competed with each other to be the one to agree most. West gave a long sigh, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

----
The New Man
    « ^ »
    'And so we return.' Bayaz frowned towards the city: a bright, white crescent spread out around the glittering bay. Slowly but decisively it came closer, reaching out and wrapping Jezal in its welcoming embrace. The features grew distinct, green parks peeping out between the houses, white spires thrusting up from the mass of buildings. He could see the towering walls of the Agriont, sunlight glinting from burnished domes above. The House of the Maker loomed high over all, but even that forbidding mass now seemed, somehow, to speak of warmth and safety.
    He was home. He had survived. It felt like a hundred years since he had stood at the stern of a not dissimilar ship, miserable and forlorn, watching Adua slide sadly away into the distance. Over the surging water, the snapping sailcloth, the cries of the seabirds, he began to distinguish the distant rumble of the city. It sounded like the most wonderful music he had ever heard. He closed his eyes and dragged the air in hard through his nostrils. The rotten salt tang of the bay was sweet as honey on his tongue.
    'One takes it you enjoyed the trip, then, Captain?' asked Bayaz, with heavy irony.
    Jezal could only grin. 'I'm enjoying the end of it.'
    'No need to be downhearted,' offered Brother Longfoot. 'Sometimes a difficult journey does not deliver its full benefit until long after one returns. The trials are brief, but the wisdom gained lasts a lifetime!'
    'Huh.' The First of the Magi curled his lip. 'Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever. Master Ninefingers! Are you determined to return to the North?'
    Logen took a brief break from frowning at the water. 'I've got no reason to stay.' He glanced sideways at Ferro, and she glared back.
    'Why look at me?'
    Logen shook his head. 'Do you know what? I've no fucking idea.' If there had been anything vaguely resembling a romance between them, it appeared now to have collapsed irreparably into a sullen dislike.
    'Well,' said Bayaz, raising his brows, 'if you are decided.' He held his hand out to the Northman and Jezal watched them shake. 'Give Bethod a kick from me, once you have him under your boot.'
    'That I will, unless he gets me under his.'
    'Never easy, kicking upwards. My thanks for your help, and for your manners. Perhaps you will be my guest again, one day, at the library. We will look out at the lake, and laugh about our high adventures in the west of the World.'
    'I'll hope for it.' But Logen hardly looked as if there was much laughter in him, or much hope either. He looked like a man who had run
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