The Cutting Edge Read Online Free Page B

That had been what this leather-faced thug had been saluting.
    "Hardgraa," the monolith growled. "Chief of his bodyguard. "
    "Ylo," Ylo said. "Personal signifer." That felt curiously satisfying.
    Not believable, just satisfying.
    "Thought you might need these," Hardgraa remarked. He held out a wad of rags and a rolled red cloth.
    Of course a signifer's first duty would be to tend his standard-clean it, replace the bunting. That was what the legate had meant. Ylo took the offering with shaky hands. "Thanks." He forced his aching feet to move.
    The centurion paced beside him until they reached the standard. The easiest way to dispose of the cape was to put it on. It did keep the sun off, and the hood was certainly more comfortable than the massive, dented helmet. As Ylo was about to start work, the centurion muttered, "A moment, Signifer," and straightened the hood for him. Bug-eyed perfectionist!
    Ylo began polishing the lowest of the emblems. He would need a stool to reach the star, for he must never lay the pole on the ground. He tried to ignore the watching Hardgraa.
    "See that civilian over there, the one who looks like a retired priest?"
    Ylo forced his eyes to focus and grunted.
    "Sir Acopulo-his chief political advisor. And the butterball just going into the tent? Lord Umpily, chief of protocol. And me. Anything you need to know, any help you want . . . just ask. Ask any of us, but one of those three especially."
    Ylo grunted again, squinting against the incandescent desert sun reflecting in his eyes. "Thanks more."
    "Anything concerning security or his safety-anything at all, no matter how trivial-tell me with your next breath."
    Ylo nodded and decided not to mention his own ambitions for a sharp blade between the royal ribs. He went back to work. The centurion rubbed the bark on his chin. "You did say personal signifer, Signifer?"
    "Yes. "
    "Curious. An Yllipo? He must be making some sort of political statement. "
    Ylo clenched his teeth and went on polishing.
    "Important job. Sure to screw it up, of course. Maybe that's it."
    Still Ylo held his temper. His skin was streaming sweat under his chain mail and felt rubbed raw in places, as if the links had worn right through his tunic. Every joint ached, every muscle trembled with fatigue.
    Hardgraa scratched his cheek. "And I've never known Shandie to go for a pretty face before. Tribune of the Vth Cohort, now-he's a rogue. Vets all the young recruits ... but not Shandie."
    Ylo spun around, staggered, steadied himself with a hand on the accursed pole. He scowled at the crude, weatherbeaten veteran. A rock-eater, this one. He'd met some tough centurions in his time, but this looked like the original, the prototype. "I understood that his personal signifer was his chief of staff, Centurion?"
    "Correct. "
    "Then . . . I . . . you . . . " He was too muddled to find the right words.
    "You don't give me orders, Signifer. You pass on his orders. If he hasn't given any, you tell me what you think his orders would be. I obey those orders."
    Oh, Gods-responsibility!
    "We're a team!" The older man chuckled dryly. "You think we'll try to pull you down? You're expecting a rat pack, maybe?" Dumbly Ylo nodded. He was an outsider. He had been thrown into this close-knit coterie with his fur still wet and his fangs not grown. His loyalties were as questionable as his abilities, and they must all know that.
    The centurion shook his head. "If Shandie wants you, then he gets you. Trust us! You're in, understand? One of us. And the sooner you can be useful to him, the happier we'll all be. You can't do my job, and I can't do yours, because I'm not gentle born. We each sing our own songs, understand? A team. And if you ever let him down, in any way at all, I shall personally rearrange that pretty face until you look like a retired gladiator with a bad case of--"
    "What're you telling me, Centurion?"
    "The council of war's in half an hour. " Ylo threw down the rag.
    "Why the Evil didn't you say