"Charles Ingrid - The Sand Wars 05 - Return Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ingrid Charles)

He leaned close. So close that he imagined he could clearly see her
wide-set, expressive eyes—mellow brown heavily flecked with gold, amber,
like her naming. "You mock the emperor, and you mock me. Storm is not
dead. And I intend to find him."

Her words taunted him. "I hope you do, Baadluster. Hell isn't big enough
for both of you. Perhaps Jack'll get sent home." She whirled on her heels and
left him at the dais edge. The entourage of St. Colin's ministers closed ranks
about her and followed.

Keenly aware that he was being watched by the troop and cameras,
Baadluster drew himself up. He received the dismissing salute with dignity
as well as hatred.

The sky rumbled, and rain began to fall in earnest. The video crew began
to strike their equipment hastily, and, falling out, the troop broke into a jog
leaving the parade grounds, their suits churning the area into waves of mud.
Baadluster bowed himself against the elements and left swiftly. He did not
notice that one of St. Colin's retinue splintered off.



Jack broke the lock code to the shops and stepped in quietly, looking
around. No one from the dress troop would be in here yet, nor any of the
support techs, for that matter. The locker rooms would be filled to the brim
as they stripped the muddy suits and sluiced them down before loading the
equipment racks. He had time to do what he'd come for.

The sight and smell of the shop rooms gave him pause. Memories
flooded him of all the time he'd spent in shops like this, stripping down,
cleaning, and repairing his armor. In makeshift tents on frontier Milos, in the
mercenary shops side by side with his friend Kavin, now dead. Even here
on Malthen where he'd sworn false allegiance to a false emperor. He felt no
guilt for what he did now because the loyalty he'd sworn was only valid if
the ruler also upheld his oath.

Jack stirred. The security systems would be picking him up soon,
whether he wore the white light shield clipped to his belt or not. Besides, he
did not have the faith in electronic gadgetry that Amber had. He swiftly
located the inspection and racking area and found what he needed.

New suits, never worn, one still lying in its packing crate. Jack deftly
resealed it and found a crate for the second, then loaded them on the power
sled for transportation. He coded them for delivery to a blind address,
where help he'd hired would redirect them, making tracing difficult if not
virtually impossible. He jimmied open the dock doors and watched the
power sled disappear into the darkening afternoon. He should follow them
out, but the loading docks were strictly automated and his body heat would
set off alarms and consequences he'd be better off avoiding. He sealed the