Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

near here. We’d hear it if there was. Wherever we’re going, we’ll have to get there on foot.” “We can do that,” said Hazel. “It’s not that big a city.” “Hold everything,” said Owen.
    “When I first suggested a spy run into Brahmin City, I had in mind something a little more surreptitious than just strolling around in broad daylight.”
    “Owen,” said Hazel, “there’s no one here to see us. And I for one have no intention of going back into that sewer for anything short of incoming fire. And pretty damn heavy fire at that. As long as we keep our ears and eyes open, no one’s going to be able to sneak up on us in this quiet.” “I hate it when you’re right,” said Owen. “Okay, let’s take a little walk, see if we can find someone to answer a few pointed questions. Weapons at the ready, people, but don’t open fire unless you have to. We’re good, but I’m not sure even we could take out a whole army of Hadenmen. Personally, I’d still like to get in and out of this city without being spotted, but if we have to make contact with the Hadenmen, I still favor trying some kind of negotiation. Maybe we can make them see that even they can’t take on the whole Empire, even if it is weakened at present.”
    “Good luck,” said Hazel. “You’re going to need it.” Owen sniffed, and set off down the street. Midnight moved quickly after him, and slipped her arm chummily through his so they could walk together. Owen
    looked a little embarrassed, but didn’t try to pull away. Partly because he didn’t want to be rude and upset her, and partly because he wasn’t entirely sure Midnight would let him. She had a particularly muscular arm. Hazel and Bonnie strolled after them, both smiling at Owen’s discomfiture. “Is your Owen as much a stuffed shirt?” said Hazel. “Some,” said Bonnie. “But I’ve been working on him. He’s loosened up a lot since we got married. What’s your Owen like between the sheets?” “We… haven’t made that kind of commitment yet,” said Hazel. “What’s commitment got to do with it?” said Bonnie.
    “I’m talking about sex, not love. Hell, I bedded my Owen less than twenty-four hours after I first met him. He was so cute… I couldn’t keep my hands off his aristocratic ass. And men are always so much more reasonable when they’re getting their ashes hauled regularly. Try it.”
    “I’ll bear it in mind,” said Hazel.
    “So,” said Owen to Midnight. “What was your Owen like?” “A hero, though he never wanted to be,”
    said Midnight. “Impulsive, hardheaded, and too damn brave for his own good. He never cared about the odds; as long as it was for the cause, he’d jump right in with both feet and cut down anything that moved.
    A warrior, like all his Family.”
    “Doesn’t sound a lot like me,” said Owen. “I only fought when I had to, when there was no other way.”
    “My Owen… faced a harder fight than you. Our war was long and hard, and brought out the beast in all who fought in it. My Owen was a man of blood and destiny, who stormed through the battlefield in search of slaughter, grinning like a wolf. He lived for combat, never happier than when snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. He liked the long odds. He said they helped to even out the advantages the Maze had given him. The Deathstalker was always an honorable man, in his way. We had whole planets to avenge, and we knew nothing of mercy anymore. War was hell, and so we made ourselves into demons. We were warriors then, and life was so simple. If only the rebellion had never ended. We could have been happy forever.”
    They walked on in silence for a while. Midnight had said all she had to say, and Owen was damned if he knew what to say in reply. He knew what she meant, about the beast. He’d felt it stir within him, the blood-drenched rage that cared nothing for causes or honor, that lived only for the knife-edge adrenaline rush of the battlefield. But he’d always fought it down, because he was a scholar, not a warrior; a man, not a beast. He wondered if Midnight’s Owen had been very different from him, if he wore the mark of the beast openly, with pride. Or if they could have looked upon each other and seen only their own face looking back. Owen shivered suddenly. He often wondered how much the rebellion had changed him, whether it had turned him despite his wishes into the vicious warrior his Family had always wanted. But now it seemed he could