Read Online White Wolf by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page B

straight at Todhe—and this time there was real fear in the youth’s eyes.
    Todhe ran forward and grabbed his father’s arm. “He is talking about me, father,” he said. “He is threatening me!”
    “Is this true?” thundered Raseev.
    “Did he torch my aunt’s house?” asked Rabalyn.
    “Of course he did not!”
    “Then he has nothing to fear, does he?”
    Rabalyn walked away. In that moment Todhe broke away from his father and drew a knife from his belt.
    “No, son!” yelled Raseev. The burly youth leapt at Rabalyn. Hearing the cry Rabalyn turned. Todhe’s knife flashed toward his face. Rabalyn swayed back. The blade missed him by inches. He hammered an overhand right to the side of Todhe’s jaw. The bigger youth, off balance, staggered. Rabalyn ran in and kicked Todhe in the stomach. Todhe dropped the knife and fell to his knees. Without thinking Rabalyn swept up the blade and plunged it into Todhe’s neck. The blade thudded against bone, then sliced through the youth’s jugular. Blood gushed over Rabalyn’s hand. Todhe gave a strangled cry and tried to stand. His knees gave way and he fell to his face on the ground. Raseev shouted: “No!” and ran to his son’s side. Rabalyn stood there, the knife in his hand dripping blood.
    For a moment nothing was said. The crowd stood stunned into silence. Then Raseev looked up. “Murder!” he shouted. “You all saw it! This vile creature has murdered my son!”
    Still no one moved. But then two soldiers of the Watch pushed themselves through the crowd. Rabalyn dropped the knife and ran, vaulting the low wall around the burning cottage and sprinting through the streets.
    He had no idea where he was going. All he knew was that he had to escape. The punishment for murder was public strangulation, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would be found guilty at trial. Todhe had dropped the knife. He was unarmed when Rabalyn slew him.
    Panicked now, the pain from his burns forgotten, the naked youth ran for his life.
    Raseev Kalikan’s view of himself was complex and distorted. People saw him as honest and a loyal worker for the good of the town and its people. Therefore, in his own mind, that was what he was. The fact that he misappropriated town funds for his own benefit, and awarded building contracts to those of his cronies who paid him bribes, did not alter his own view of himself. On those rare occasions when his conscience pricked him he would think: “But this is how the world works. If I didn’t do it, someone else would.” He used words like honor and principle, faith and patriotism. His voice was rich and deep and persuasive, and when he used those words in his public speeches he would often see tears in the eyes of the townsfolk who loved him. It was most moving, and, caught up in the moment, he would become quite emotional himself. Raseev Kalikan truly believed only in what was good for Raseev Kalikan. He was his own god and his own ambition. In short, Raseev Kalikan was a politician.
    His greatest talent was an innate feeling for which way the political wind was blowing.
    When the king’s armies had suffered defeats, and the ruler had turned on his advisers, the day of the Arbiters had dawned. Until now the Arbiters had been a minor force in the political life of Tantria, raging against what they saw as the malign influence of foreigners living within Tantria’s borders. Now they were preeminent. All the ills that had befallen the new nation were laid at the door of foreigners from Dospilis or Naashan or Ventria. Even the few Drenai merchants in the capital were viewed with deep suspicion. The irony was that the new leader of the Arbiters was himself a foreigner, Shakusan Ironmask, the captain of the Warhounds, the king’s mercenary bodyguard. Raseev had greeted the Arbiter representatives to the town warmly, and made them welcome in his own home. He had embraced their cause and pictured himself rising through the ranks, and perhaps moving on