Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 202
pathetic. That's no way to die, Chan. I would have expected
more of an ‘agent of Ravenon’."
He raised the sword, aiming it straight at Chan’s heart.
"I've been told to kill you neatly and quickly," he said. "And I
will. But not before you tell me something."
"Huh?" Chan levered himself up with his arms; his legs
seemed unresponsive. Turcaret stepped forward and kicked
him behind the knees. The man went sprawling off his chair.
Turcaret raised the sword, turning it so that it gleamed in
the lamplight. Chan’s eyes were fixed on it.
"Tell me this, or I'll make it a slow death rather than a
quick one," Turcaret said.
"Why are the Heaven hooks coming to take Jordan
Mason?"
August's epee flashed in the dimness. One of the men
who had entered the room screamed and fell, clutching his leg.
The other dove forward, reaching for his own blade. This
brought him up against the bed.
Jordan looked up into the startled eyes of a man wearing
Turcaret’s livery.
"Run, Jordan!" August's thrust clove the air where the
man had been an instant ago. Jordan rolled sideways and
ended up in the middle of the room. He could see the other
two struggling, hands locked to wrists. The man August had
stabbed was crawling toward the door; his left calf streamed
blood. August had ham-strung him.
"Run!"
Jordan staggered to his feet, and ran. He was in shock
from the unexpected violence, and didn't even bother to check
whether there were more men in the hall. He stumbled down
the steps, mindless, until stopped by a heavy thump above him.