"Huff, Tanya - Kigh 02 - Fifth Quarter E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

knew what his answer would be. Although his most recent promotion
responsibilities kept him from exercising his skills,
Neegan was quite possibly the best military assassin in the seven armies.
"Aralt's locked himself up tight in the governors stronghold."
"I have two who could do the job. "
Leesh snorted in disbelief.
The marshal ignored the interruption. "Aralt's no fool for all his posturing.
He'll be expecting the attempt. "
"Yes," Neegan agreed.
"These the two who removed Pahbad?"
"Yes."
"You're assuming that two will succeed where a single assassin might fail." He'd
fought to have them trained together using that very argument and had been
proven right time after time but, this time. Chela shook her head. "No. They'd
never get to him."
Neegan smiled. "Would the marshal care to place a small wager. …"



As she slid her dagger back in its sheath, Vree felt the familiar bleakness that
came with the end of a mission. One moment, she and Bannon were a single unit
with the use of not one pair of eyes or ears or hands, but two; the next, she
stood alone. This time, the dislocation was almost painfully abrupt. This time,
they had no retreat, blood singing, back to safety. This time the separation
occurred just as senses climaxed at the "kill."
And there's nothing worse then melodrama in the middle of the night, she told
herself scornfully as she made her way around the table to Bannon's side,
ignoring with long practice the sexual undertones in the original, melodramatic
thought.
The marshal fought the urge to touch her throat where she could still feel the
cold pressure of the blade. "I'm inclined to believe Commander Neegan's
assurances that you two can target the governor. When can you go in?"
"We've been mapping the stronghold since the army arrived, Marshal." Bannon
spoke for them both. "If the weather holds, we could make an attempt as early as
tomorrow night."
Chela nodded. At this time of the year in the southern part of the Empire, there
would not be rain. "Make it then."



As they left the tent, Bannon reached out and smacked one of the guards at the
entrance on the butt. "Nice work," he said, loudly enough to turn heads.
"How'd you get in there, you little shit!" the soldier demanded, flushing a
ruddy scarlet in the torchlight.
Bannon laughed, dancing back out of his way. "I can't believe you didn't see us
march right by."
Well aware that this failure would mean nights spent at other, less prestigious
duty posts, the guard weighed the odds of nailing the brother before the sister
reacted and decided discretion was the better part of not having his throat
slit. "Sod off," he snarled.