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78 - The Walls
“Don’t do this,” said Anzi. She shifted, making certain she was concealing every part of Oza from Doufan’s view. “You’re not going to like how this ends.”
His glaive twisted in his grasp, a small rolling of the handle that made the keen edge of the curved blade on the end gleam under the torch light. “I’m obligated to make you an offer since that’s our way,” he said just as blithely. “Give me the boy, and I’ll make it painless for you.”
“It? And what’s ‘it’ supposed to be? You’re getting ahead of yourself.” She grasped the hilts of her swords and unsheathed them an inch. The other soldier’s glaive tip edged upward as well. “This is a bad time for you to play Bisset’s lapdog. The whole city’s falling apart. Get out of here, and I won’t bring this up to His Excellency when we see him next. Consider it a favor repaid if you don’t say a word about the guards.”
But he said nothing, and something about his cold composure
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