Read Online His Own Good Sword (The Cymeriad #1) by Amanda McCrina - Free Book Online

serve the Empire as it has need of me, Lord
Magryn. My father’s name should make no difference to that.”
    “Of course not, Commander,” said Magryn, smoothly.
“Forgive me. I spoke only in jest.”
    He could tell Magryn was guessing at the reasons, putting things
together in his head. A Risto didn’t get sent to a place like
Souvin unless it were punishment for some misdeed. Magryn would know
that well enough.
    Laying that thought aside, he said, “I can count on your help,
Lord Magryn, to ensure cooperation between the garrison and the
village folk?”
    “Certainly, Commander,” Magryn said. “I’m at
your service, I and my household.”
    “I’ll be glad to have dealings with someone who knows
these people well,” Tyren said. He didn’t bother to hide
his contempt. “Thank you, Lord Magryn.”
    He went with Verio back out to the yard, to their horses.
    “That’s the kind of Cesino I dislike the most,” he
said as they mounted.
    “He has his uses occasionally,” Verio said.
    “A man who sucks the lifeblood of his own people so he can sell
himself to Choiro?”
    Verio shrugged. “He’s a Magryn. That’s what
matters. He has their respect. Makes our work a little easier—he
has their loyalty, we have his. You’ll find he’s useful.”
    “They fear him because we prop him up,” Tyren said. “I
doubt they respect him.”
    They’d come back into the heart of the village now—low
thatch-roofed stone huts scattered here and there across the grass as
if they’d just sprung up that way.
    “How’s their attitude towards the garrison?” Tyren
asked, looking round. There were few people directly about. Most of
those he could see were out in the grain fields below the northern
hillside. The village itself lay still and silent except for the
sound of the wind moving through the grass and the distant ringing of
metal from the smithy.
    “Quiet,” said Verio. “Mostly quiet. But the trouble
is, sir—the trouble is most of these people here, they show
themselves to be dutifully obedient, swear their allegiance to the
Emperor—and underneath it all, in their hearts, they’re
loyal to the rebellion. Easier for us if they were openly
hostile—easier to deal with. But instead they’re quiet
about it, and that’s harder to root out.”
    “So there’s a resistance movement in the Outland.”
    “Yes, sir. Small but persistent. Usually nothing more than
ambushing our supply trains or the pay wagon. Occasionally something
bigger. Last year they attacked a troop headed from Rien to Carent.”
    “I didn’t hear of that,” Tyren said.
    “In Choiro? No, in Choiro they keep the whole thing shut up,
probably. An embarrassment to admit something like that. Some
legate’s head would be off.”
    Tyren said nothing. Verio glanced at him sidelong, decided perhaps
he’d said too much, and spoke quickly of something else.
    “Ten years ago they thought they’d stamped out the
rebellion once for all. They caught the leader. Did you hear of
that?”
    Tyren smiled. “I’d have been nine years old,” he
said.
    Verio said, “Well, sir, they captured the leader. Here in the
village—a man named Sarre, Rylan Sarre. One of these damn fools
going on about the restoration of the Varri—of Tarien Varro’s
line.” He glanced over again. “You know the tradition,
I’m sure, sir.”
    “I know it,” said Tyren.
    “They made an example of him. Before my time, but they told me
about it. They executed him, and he’d a woman and a brat they
sold down in Rien. You’d think that would be the last of their
resistance, but it didn’t work that way. All these people
here—if they didn’t support rebellion before, they did
then. We lost some good men putting out that fire.”
    “I see.”
    “The garrison—I think they’ve learned to ignore us.
They hate us, maybe, but they ignore us. But I don’t think
it’ll always be that way.”
    Tyren looked at him curiously. “You think they’ll rise
against