Dave Duncan – The Cutting Edge – A Handful of Men. Book 1

“This may be rough,” the warlock said.”But I’ve got some friends standing by to shield us as soon as we arrive—I hope. If the enemy got there first, then . . . well, it’s worth a try.”

“Wait!” Shandie said.”What happens after?”

“I told you. You go into hiding and stay there.”

“No!” Holding his child in his arms, the imperor yet seemed to draw himself up in defiance.”Maybe my realm has been stolen from me, but I will not have my mind stolen also! I will not give up. I will fight!”

More thumping, closer this time—Ylo decided that the front door was under attack, too, now. What nonsense was this about fighting sorcery?

Then Shandie repeated it.”I will never rest until I have won back my impire!”

“Indeed?” the dwarf sneered.”You and what army?”

The imperor surveyed the room.”These good friends will do for a start. Maybe there aren’t very many of them, just a handful, but they’re loyal and they’re good. Are you with me?”

“Gods save the imperor!” Ylo said automatically, as no other answer came to mind at the moment.

“Gods save the imperor!” the others echoed, some louder than others.

Shandie looked at Rap.”And you?”

The faun smiled grimly.”I have no choice. Zinixo won’t rest, either—not until he has my guts in a pot and Krasnegar is gravel. Down with the tyrant!”

“Well said! Victory or death!” Shandie bellowed.

“No!” Astonishingly, the shout came from Eshiala. She lunged at her husband, as if to snatch their daughter away.”You must not!”

“My dear!”

The impress was almost screaming.”You must not risk our baby!” She tried to take the child from Shandie, and Maya awoke with a cry of bewilderment.

“Eshiala! Be silent!”

“She is more important than your precious throne!”

They were both yelling at once and the little princess howled between them.

“Gods of Fools!” the dwarf muttered.

Crash! The house rocked. The bells were suddenly louder.”Move us, Warlock!” Rap said.”Now!”

Strait the gate:

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishment the scroll;

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

— Henley, Invictus

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