No Return Read Online Free PDF Page A

had decided to take a rest. Only her eyes moved, searching the sky.
    Suddenly, she shuddered and tried to lift her head.
    He clamped a hand around her jaw, holding her in place.
    “Hurts,” she said. “What—?”
    Vedas looked up, instinctually searching the crowd for Abse. “Shh,” he said without looking down. The smell struck him, and he winced. “You’ll be fine.”
    “I want—” The girl swatted weakly at the arm holding her head immobile.
    “Mommy. My legs hurt. Zeb.”
    At once, Vedas remembered her name. Sara Jol. Zeb was her brother. Had been her brother.
    He still could not meet the girl’s stare. Abse was nowhere to be seen. “Don’t worry,” Vedas said. “It’ll just be a second.”
    The girl spoke no more. She inhaled three quick, shallow breaths and died. After dinner, Abse and Vedas conferred in the library to discuss the incident.
    A waxpaper packet lay on the table between them. The death wage, an ounce of bonedust for the children’s parents: nearly half a year’s standard pay. “They came to Golna from the badlands of southern Casta a year ago,” Abse said. “They knew their children had been recruited and approved. We have no reason to expect recriminations. The man who killed them has reason to worry, of course. Perhaps his order does, as well. It was reckless,
    allowing the man to fight.”
    “We should have recognized the danger he posed.”
    “Ridiculous. We were at war, Vedas.”
    Vedas’s hand closed around the waxpaper packet. “I will take it to the parents.”
    Abse frowned. “Very well, though it is not your responsibility.”
    “Whose responsibility is it?”
    The abbey master opened his hands, palms up. “What are you looking for, Vedas? Let us be honest with one another. You want someone to blame other than yourself. You want someone to suffer as you suffer, and so you try to shame the order by implying that we have not taken responsibility. In your guilt you cannot see that it is not your fault when a recruit dies—not your fault, or mine. The children are warriors, just as you and I are warriors.
    The children are weapons for the greater glory of man, just as you and I are weapons for the same cause. You need not seek someone to blame, for there is no one to blame.”
    Vedas closed his eyes and breathed deep into his stomach, struggling to contain the rage the abbey master’s words roused within him. Since taking over as Head of Recruits at the age of seventeen, he had heard a variation on the speech three times. He could see the reason in it, but reason did not erase guilt—a fact the abbey master did not seem to understand. “I could have done more.”
    Abse rose, and still stood only a little taller than the sitting Vedas. “How? By standing behind them, by moving their arms and legs?” A rare expression of annoyance crossed the abbey master’s face. “You will not begin to think that way. A good leader readies as best he can, knowing that no amount of preparedness can assure the life of every man in his command. In time you will embrace this fact. In time, you will not cling so tightly to your pain. For now, however, you must simply move forward.”
    ‡
    The giant’s grapple caught the end of Vedas’s staff and ripped it from his hands. The rounded edge of one prong grazed his temple, spinning him to the ground. He shook the stars from his eyes and rolled to the left to avoid the swiftly descending warhammer, which landed, shattering pavement less than an inch from his leg. He rose into a crouch and immediately leaned back, planting a hand on the ground to steady himself as the man swung his grapple at Vedas’s face a second time. He felt the compacted air of its wake as a soft slap.
    The giant grunted, obviously surprised that he had not connected. Offbalance, he twisted to bring his weapons back around. Before he could do so, Vedas shifted his weight forward, sweeping his right foot into the man’s left ankle. Though it felt like striking a