Read Online Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades by Brian Staveley - Free Book Online

spent eight years training, and the man did not handle it well. He seemed to resent anyone more fortunate than him, and that put Valyn, with his royal name and luxurious childhood, just about at the top of the list.
    Valyn couldn’t count the number of times he’d drawn latrine duty or third watch or stable mop for barely discernible violations of minor regulations. It would have been a whole lot easier to feel pity for Rallen if someone hadn’t made him Master of Cadets. The choice had baffled Valyn at first—why would anyone put an inept, undisciplined wash-up in charge, especially one with no combat experience? After a few years on the Islands, however, he thought he was starting to understand. Kettral training wasn’t all about fighting. It was about dealing with people, about keeping calm in difficult situations. No one ever said as much, of course, but Valyn had started to suspect that Rallen was all part of the training. He took another breath and waited.
    “Ah,” the man said, shifting his gaze from the parchment at last. “Valyn. I’m sorry for your loss.”
    He sounded about as sorry as a butcher hawking his meat, but Valyn nodded. “Thank you.”
    “I hope, however,” the man continued, pursing his lips, “that you’re not here to beg for any sort of … leniency in your training as a result. Kettral remain Kettral, even when tragedy strikes.”
    “No begging, sir,” Valyn replied, trying to keep his temper in check. “A request.”
    “Oh, of course ! How foolish of me. The great Valyn hui’Malkeenian would never beg. You probably have slaves to do your begging for you, eh?”
    “No more than you do, sir.”
    Rallen’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that now? I won’t tolerate insouciance in my office, regardless of your situation —”
    “No insouciance, sir. Just a request.”
    “Well?” the man asked, waving his hand as though he’d been waiting all along for Valyn to voice it. “Are you going to make it, then, or are you going to continue to waste my time and yours?”
    Valyn hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I want to take a bird north. Off the Islands. To Ashk’lan. Kaden won’t know about our father’s death. He might be in danger.”
    For a moment Rallen just stared, eyes wide in his fleshy face. Then he doubled over with laughter—rolling, mirthless, sardonic laughter.
    “You want…,” he managed in between wheezes, “to take a bird. That’s wonderful. Truly wonderful. Every other cadet on the Islands is training for Hull’s Trial, training to become true Kettral, and you want … to just skip it! You truly are the son of an Emperor!”
    “It’s not for me, sir,” Valyn ground out. “I’m concerned about my brother.”
    “Oh, of course you are. And of course you’re the man for the job, eh? The Emperor has the entire Aedolian Guard, men trained for one purpose only—to watch over him—but you think a raw cadet who hasn’t even passed the Trial is going to take care of everything, eh? Probably the men in charge back in Annur haven’t even considered this, is that it? They don’t even realize just how good you really are!”
    Valyn hadn’t truly expected to be allowed the bird, but there was nothing to be lost in trying. At least it set him up for his real request. “Not me, then, but an established Wing. A Wing of veterans. The Flea, maybe—”
    Rallen was already waving him to silence. “The Flea is north with Fane and half a dozen other Wings, trying to sort out what in ’Shael’s name went wrong. Besides, this isn’t Kettral work. As I just got done telling you, the Emperor, bright be the days of his life, has the Aedolian Guard to protect him. Here on the Islands, you’re learning—those of you who can be taught—how to kill people, not how to keep them alive. The Emperor will be fine. This isn’t your concern—or mine, for that matter.”
    “But, sir,” Valyn began.
    “No,” Rallen said.
    “Maybe if I spoke with Daveen