like her to inform Miriam that her husband of less than a year would not be returning.
“No, I’ll tell her,” the general said. “I just have to find a gentle way in which to do it.”
“This internecine war has destroyed many a life, hasn’t it, Sir?”
“Too many, Major. Far too many.”
There was a long moment of silence then the general leaned back in his chair. “I was very pleased to hear the Jost situation has been successfully resolved. Good work, Chastain.”
“Thank you, Sir. I wish we could have taken the Storian captive, but one less rebel assassin is better than nothing.”
“It is definite, then? He was Storian?”
“I had a message on my Vid-Mem when I returned to my quarters. He had the mark on the sole of his left foot.”
The general winced. “A primary,” he noted. “Thank the Goddess you were able to take him out.”
“He could have given us much-needed information had I been able to capture him alive, but he didn’t give me any choice,” Chas confessed.
“Well, at least you survived the contact.” He eyed her carefully. “A few bruises and a scrape or two seems to be the extent of your injuries.”
“I was lucky,” Chas maintained.
The general waved away her modesty. “Luck had nothing to do with it, Major. You are good at what you do.”
Chastain smiled, the compliment being one that was rarely extended to an RG. “I take it you have a new mission for me?”
A dark scowl spread over the general’s face. “One demanded of us by the Caitliceachs.”
Chas’ eyes widened and General Alphon Morrison grinned mirthlessly. “Surprises you too, eh? I never thought the Council of Cosaint would ask for our help, did you?”
“No, Sir. Never in a millennia,” Chas said slowly. “What do they want us to do?”
“Keep the heir-apparent from being assassinated,” the general said.
Chas frowned. “That’s Prince Ruan, isn’t it?”
“The one and the same,” her superior officer replied.
“Don’t they call him the Wraith?”
“Aye, he is high up in the Order of Taibhse. Supposedly, he is one helluva warrior and if his documented kills are any indication, I can see where he’s earned his nickname.”
The frown on Chas’ face deepened. “I am Protastnúach so I have never understood the Caitliceachs, Sir. The whole idea of a race of people governed by a ruling family is anathema to the way I was brought up. Anything that smacks of kingship and all that folderol just irks me,” Chas remarked.
“It bothers me too, so I wasn’t keen on the idea of us providing protection for one of King Declan Cosaint’s brats.”
“Then why are we?”
“Orders came directly from the Tribunal to us, Major. We didn’t have any say in the matter. Despite our differences, the Caitliceachs are our allies.”
“His people can’t protect the heir-apparent?”
“Not as sufficiently as they would like. He’s a handful, I hear.”
“Aye, well, from what I’ve heard of Prince Ruan, he won’t appreciate us providing protection for him. Isn’t that what his surname means? Protection?”
“Aye, but protection of his people, not of himself,” the general explained. “I’m told he tends to be rather careless of his own safety and his mother nudged the king into having their son placed under safeguard.”
“Nevertheless, he might balk at me shadowing him.”
General Morrison leaned forward and braced his elbows on his desk. “That’s why he isn’t to know who or what you are, Major.”
Chas’ eyebrows drew toward one another. “I’m not to tell him I’m an RG?”
“By all means, no, you aren’t!” the general exclaimed. “The king’s attaché was adamant about that.”
“Then how in the blue blazes am I to protect him?”
“Stealth, my dear Major,” the general said with a chuckle. “By using stealth!”
* * * * *
The prisoner slumped against the heavy chains weighing down his arms. It was hard for him to sign his name on the paper that had
“No, I’ll tell her,” the general said. “I just have to find a gentle way in which to do it.”
“This internecine war has destroyed many a life, hasn’t it, Sir?”
“Too many, Major. Far too many.”
There was a long moment of silence then the general leaned back in his chair. “I was very pleased to hear the Jost situation has been successfully resolved. Good work, Chastain.”
“Thank you, Sir. I wish we could have taken the Storian captive, but one less rebel assassin is better than nothing.”
“It is definite, then? He was Storian?”
“I had a message on my Vid-Mem when I returned to my quarters. He had the mark on the sole of his left foot.”
The general winced. “A primary,” he noted. “Thank the Goddess you were able to take him out.”
“He could have given us much-needed information had I been able to capture him alive, but he didn’t give me any choice,” Chas confessed.
“Well, at least you survived the contact.” He eyed her carefully. “A few bruises and a scrape or two seems to be the extent of your injuries.”
“I was lucky,” Chas maintained.
The general waved away her modesty. “Luck had nothing to do with it, Major. You are good at what you do.”
Chastain smiled, the compliment being one that was rarely extended to an RG. “I take it you have a new mission for me?”
A dark scowl spread over the general’s face. “One demanded of us by the Caitliceachs.”
Chas’ eyes widened and General Alphon Morrison grinned mirthlessly. “Surprises you too, eh? I never thought the Council of Cosaint would ask for our help, did you?”
“No, Sir. Never in a millennia,” Chas said slowly. “What do they want us to do?”
“Keep the heir-apparent from being assassinated,” the general said.
Chas frowned. “That’s Prince Ruan, isn’t it?”
“The one and the same,” her superior officer replied.
“Don’t they call him the Wraith?”
“Aye, he is high up in the Order of Taibhse. Supposedly, he is one helluva warrior and if his documented kills are any indication, I can see where he’s earned his nickname.”
The frown on Chas’ face deepened. “I am Protastnúach so I have never understood the Caitliceachs, Sir. The whole idea of a race of people governed by a ruling family is anathema to the way I was brought up. Anything that smacks of kingship and all that folderol just irks me,” Chas remarked.
“It bothers me too, so I wasn’t keen on the idea of us providing protection for one of King Declan Cosaint’s brats.”
“Then why are we?”
“Orders came directly from the Tribunal to us, Major. We didn’t have any say in the matter. Despite our differences, the Caitliceachs are our allies.”
“His people can’t protect the heir-apparent?”
“Not as sufficiently as they would like. He’s a handful, I hear.”
“Aye, well, from what I’ve heard of Prince Ruan, he won’t appreciate us providing protection for him. Isn’t that what his surname means? Protection?”
“Aye, but protection of his people, not of himself,” the general explained. “I’m told he tends to be rather careless of his own safety and his mother nudged the king into having their son placed under safeguard.”
“Nevertheless, he might balk at me shadowing him.”
General Morrison leaned forward and braced his elbows on his desk. “That’s why he isn’t to know who or what you are, Major.”
Chas’ eyebrows drew toward one another. “I’m not to tell him I’m an RG?”
“By all means, no, you aren’t!” the general exclaimed. “The king’s attaché was adamant about that.”
“Then how in the blue blazes am I to protect him?”
“Stealth, my dear Major,” the general said with a chuckle. “By using stealth!”
* * * * *
The prisoner slumped against the heavy chains weighing down his arms. It was hard for him to sign his name on the paper that had
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