The Changeling

32

"You're Cetlali Wisterkin!?" the soldier boomed, incensed. He spat the words in her face, along with the rabid white froth at the corners of his cracked pink lips.

She grimaced and flailed away from him.

"Let me go!" She snarled, sounding a bit helpless. The man laughed in her face as she tried to pull out of his grip. She saw Dalal and Xocthl already standing with their hands on their pommels at the edges of her vision.

Waiting and furious that someone's hands were on her in such a way. They knew better than to think she couldn't handle herself. She wouldn't exactly complain about their support with the soldier and his cronies, filling up the room with their rage.

The soldier yanked on her again, snarling right in her face, "So you're the reason the Ogre went wild? A stubby bitch like you? What kind of magic do you work under that skirt of yours

to drive men to madness? Want to give me a taste?" He laughed along with the echoes of his group, while she thrashed like a tempestuous storm against him. His other hand grabbed at her thighs.

The moment exploded. An

incomprehensible rage surged through Cetlali at the audacity of this man. Not only was he ruining her first proper night out in ages, but insinuating Ovar's actions were in any way her responsibility was reprehensible. On impulse, she drew back and rammed her forehead into the man's face. After that, he was too busy cradling a broken nose to keep a hold of her.

She regained some balance and swung both of her clasped fists squarely in his groin. He thunked to the floor like a felled tree, wailing and bleeding. She staggered away as a shaking hand went to her pulsing head, a wonderful reward for her troubles.

A flurry of shouts took over the reigning silence of the room. Veerke stepped into the middle of it with a pristine smile on her face.

"Gentlemen, I feel that this establishment can

no longer be welcoming to you." Her voice was sharp but had a dangerous softness as she faced the group. The men pulled back their floundering associate as he limped along and whined.

Another soldier stepped forward, his sword drawn and aimed in the vague direction of Veerke. Cetlali straightened, a cold fury steeling in her chest. The tension in the room wasn't unique to her when everyone saw Veerke was in even the most remote of dangers. As the successful owner of such a prominent temple, the employees and community adored her.

The pale scrawny looking man flinched at the chill of the room. He looked around in the stillness, trying to seem brave now that he realized he was premature to pull his sword.

Despite all the bravado, his words shook, "We'll be off, of course, but we'll be taking her with us.

Ovar Tate wants that bitch bad enough to burn my homelands to ashes and murder my kin," his words were frantic, "so I have a right mind to give her over and get him to stop."

Veerke scowled, stepping in front of where Cetlali leaned on the table. "You'll do no such thing. I have already notified the Municipal Army of your disruption. The gall you have to draw your weapons in an Indulgence Temple will see you all arrested or thrown from the city and reviled completely."

He clenched his jaw with a challenging glare at Veerke as he raised his sword and pressed the edge against her cheek. He looked around, eyes wide and cheeks twitching with the effort to be facetious. The soldier's grim smile spread as he took in all the stunned faces, intent on absorbing them. He looked back at Veerke, who regarded him with a teary fury.

"Don't happen to see the Municipal Army here right now, do I?" He gently twisted his blade against the supple curve of her jaw. His tone was a deadly mix of cruel and confident.