Night of Wolves Read Online Free PDF Page A

even knew himself.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I dearly hope so. He was a kind man. I’ll pray for him, and pray that he’s with his family in the hereafter. Surely Ashhur can fault no man for missing his loved ones as much as Bobby did.”
    “Darius said he deserved Karak’s punishment.”
    Jerico pulled his armor over his head, shifted it, and then walked over to kiss the girl on the forehead.
    “He speaks out of hurt,” he said. “Pay him no mind. Now go, and tell your father I’m almost ready.”
    She smiled weakly, curtseyed, and then was gone. Jerico sighed.
    “Damn you, Darius,” he said, tightening the straps on his armor. “For once, couldn’t you know better?”
    It seemed half the town had gathered at Bobby’s home by the time he arrived. Jerico’s host, the tall Jeremy Hangfield, stood in the center, clearly in charge. He was a distant relative of a noble in Mordeina, and owned more land than the rest of Durham combined. Thankfully, the corrupting influence of his wealth never went beyond him and the tax man. The people treated him as their leader, lord in all but name.
    “There you are!” Jeremy said, spotting him near the back of the crowd. “Come, Jerico, come! Darius has refused to pray over him, but Bobby was a good man, and he deserves no worse than any one of us here.”
    The way parted before him, and he stepped to the porch of Bobby’s home. Inside, he saw a rope lying on the floor, having been cut from the rafter it’d been tied to. Wrapped in a blanket was Bobby’s corpse. His parents, their backs hunched, their skin deeply tanned by the sun, sat to the side, surrounded by their friends. Not far away, he saw the parents of Bobby’s dead wife, and they looked too drained to cry. They’d lost all their tears the days before, suffering for the fate of their daughter and grandchildren.
    Jerico knelt before Bobby’s parents and took their hands in his.
    “Is there anything you want me to say?” he asked.
    The father looked at him, his eyes puffy and red.
    “He wasn’t his self when he did it. You know that, right? He’d never…he’d never do this…”
    “He was already dead,” said the mother. “Died when Susie did.”
    He kissed both their hands, stood, and then looked to the crowd. Some wanted comfort. Some were there to support their friends, and couldn’t care less what he had to say. A knot grew in his stomach, and his tongue felt layered with sand. What could he say to them? He knew so little. At the Citadel, they’d taught him the words for funerals, what to say for the passing of men, women, and children. They’d never trained him to deal with the looks they’d give him, the near desperate desire for relief and comfort.
    Jerico gave them what he could, and it felt like exposing a piece of himself as he spoke. He told them of Bobby’s kindness, talked of the love of his family, and the grace he’d accepted from Ashhur. He said not a word of his suicide. Let the gods deal with that. When he finished, he gestured to Jeremy, who stepped forward, three men with him. They lifted Bobby into their arms and carried him out. They would bury him in the fields, forever to be a part of their village and their way of life.
    Afterward, Jerico mingled, accepted compliments for his speech, and then searched for Darius.
    He found him outside the town, sitting with his back to a lone tree growing atop a hill. The wind blew, and it felt wonderful against Jerico’s warm skin. Speaking to the public always made him flush and feel like his neck were on fire.
    “You weren’t there for the burial,” he said as he sat down beside him.
    “Don’t deserve it.”
    Jerico sighed. “Whether he hanged himself or not, he trusted both of us, and at least you could have—”
    “Not him,” Darius said, shooting him a glare. “ I don’t deserve to be there. He was hurting, and I led him out into the Wedge in hopes of aiding him. Instead, I made things worse. One of those that died