Page 271 of Scorched Earth
“Men talk when they’re drunk. And this was years ago. And Hostus is dead. What does it matter?”
“Hostus knew information about my strategies, which nearly got me killed. I never did discover who ratted me out to him about my plans with Grypus. Which means the rat never got caught.” Quintus had reached them, expression murderous, but Marcus held up a hand for him to pause. “And that rat went on to do what rats do best.”
Gibzen went very still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Was Hostus paying you off?”
Such a good dog,Hostus’s voice echoed up from Marcus’s memories.He’d make an excellent replacement for your deserter.“Or did he just promise to help you move up in the ranks?”
“This is bullshit.”
“You hated Agrippa. Everyone knew it.”
“Yeah, because he always madeyoulook bad. Doesn’t mean I tried to kill him.”
“I know, but you did watch someone else try to kill him and did nothing to help.” Gibzen opened his mouth, but Marcus cut him off. “I can’t prove you knew the truth, nor that you were on the take with Hostus, but I can’t help but be suspicious given that Titus told me he’d paid off someone close to me for information. Someone he’d promised to help move up the ranks.”
The men close enough to hear stiffened in shock, and Gibzen didn’t miss their reaction.
“Wasn’t me.”
“Someone took thatfreshly minted goldfrom Titus and made a deal with the enemy. With Ashok, who was Urcon’s puppet master.Someone who wanted Teriana deadso things could go back to normal.Someonestupid enoughnot to realize just how the enemy might use her against me. Against us.”
The Thirty-Seventh were all pressing closer, faces hard and eyes growing darker with each one of Marcus’s accusations, his words repeated back through the ranks.
“Who knew the exact hour Teriana was returning that day?” Marcus raised his voice so that it carried over the listening men. “Me. Titus. Felix.You.”
“You can’t be serious.” Gibzen’s eyes jumped from Marcus to the men pressing inward, the Thirty-Seventh’s lines and protocols abandoned in their desperation to hear the truth. “Those were my men who Ashok killed.”
“No, they wereAgrippa’smen,” Marcus said. “Over the years since Hydrilla, you’ve weeded all one hundred of them out of your ranks with excuses, accidents, and deaths. Don’t think it hasn’t been noticed.”
“So? I made my century my own. Every centurion does.”
“How did you find Ashok’s trail so quickly? How were you lucky enough to find one of Teriana’s hair beads so as to prove she’d been taken?”
“It’s my job!”
Marcus had no concrete proof, not really, and while the thousand little coincidences and rising patterns painted a damning picture, Marcus wanted the gods-damned truth. “Gibzen, you’re out.” He motioned to Servius. “Get Racker back here. Burn the Thirty-Seventh’s mark off him, then strip him and send him on his way. I’m not keeping someone in my ranks who isn’t loyal to me.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Gibzen twisted in a circle, looking like he might run, but the shields around them locked, spears lowering.
“Be glad I’m not hanging you for treason,” Marcus said. “Instead, I’m going to allow you to make your own way. No longer primus. No longer Thirty-Seventh. A man like you is of no value to me.”
Gibzen’s eyes bulged. “You’d be dead a dozen times over without me! You’d never have made it out of Lescendor alive without me!”
“Perhaps.” Marcus lifted one shoulder. “But any man can do what you do. You’re muscle, Gibzen. Replaceable. And I don’t want someone under my command who I can’t trust.”
Racker pushed through the shields surrounding them, his roll ofsurgical blades tucked under one arm. “I’ll need a brazier,” he said, sounding annoyed that one wasn’t waiting. “Let’s get this over with.”
Gibzen moved to draw his blade, but Quintus and Felix were on him in a heartbeat. Closing the distance, Marcus took Gibzen’s gladius and tossed it aside, then took his helmet and armor, casting them in the same pile. The smell of smoke from the brazier blew over them, and Gibzen visibly tensed.
“It’s a good deal.” Marcus knew his tone did not match the simmering rage that boiled his blood. “Lose a couple of tattoos in exchange for your life. I bet there’s any number of men in our ranks who’d volunteer for the opportunity. No more war. No more battles. No more killing. No more bodies. It’s a better life that you can look forward to.”
“You need me. You need me!” Gibzen screamed as Felix and Servius forced him to the ground, tearing off his tunic.
“Why do I need you?” Marcus glanced at Racker, who’d removed a glittering scalpel.
“Keep him steady,” the surgeon muttered. “Don’t want him to bleed to death and waste this effort.”
