‘The usual way,’ she replied. ‘With the thing between his legs.’
He turned away from the unconscious woman, adjusted’ his light tunic so that the shoulder seams were even and straight, then closed the clasps of his weapon belt. One of the Invigilator’s requirements for all officers of the I’atriotists: belt, dagger and shortsword. Ava liked the weight of them, the authority implicit in the privilege of wearing arms where all other Indians-barring soldiers-were f*******n by proclamation of the King.
As if we might rebel. The damned fool thinks he won that war. They all do. Dimwitted barbarians.
Ava Aaron walked to the door, stepped out into the corridor, and made his way towards the Invigilator’s office. The second bell after midday sounded a moment before he knocked on the door. A murmu
