# How Men Do It (RCG 19)



## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Book XIX: How Men Do It, Assassin Chronicles.

Blurb: The Chevalier Ramsay must return to the Abyss to conduct a bit of damage control in the Seventh Gate in spite of the danger of running into old acquaintances. His old enemies, routed from New Babylon, begin searching for him and the Mighty Djinni with a new plan for bringing chaos to the world of men. Omar must try to run his New World Order from behind the scenes with a new attitude and a new outlook on life. Back at the Isle of Ramsay, Montague is left trying to fend off unknown forces trying to steal some of the Red Cross of Gold's powerful relics. Mark's unruly son, Luke Andrew, joins his father's Order in spite of the obstacles he might face and must prove himself worthy of an apprenticeship. Things do not improve when the new King of the Faeries decides that he needs to get to know the royal family a bit better.


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## Ann in Arlington (Oct 27, 2008)

Hi Brendan, and congratulations on your book. (Though I thought you were well past XII )

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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The Red Cross of Gold X:. Genesis 6:5, hints at things to come from one of the Council Members' sons, Konrad von Hetz' (junior). He is arrogant, selfish and cruel, but the father is always the last to know. Here's a cozy little scene where Konrad (junior) is tormenting his best friend.

_"They're immortal. Haven't you been listening to me at all?" 
"Come on now, Konrad!" Ernst tore his attention from the screen to look at Konrad as if he had lost his mind.
"And so am I," Konrad told him proudly.
"Yeah, sure. How do you know?" Ernst asked and laughed nervously. He had seen this same look on Konrad's face before. His friend was not joking.
"How else would I know? I killed myself and here I am, none the worse for wear," the slender boy said and held out his arms for inspection.
"Konrad!" Ernst gasped and stood up, backing away from him. "You have lost your fucking mind."
"Oh, no I haven't," Konrad stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "I'll prove it to you. You name the method and I'll do it. Anything but decapitation or a broken neck or something like being lost at the bottom of the sea."
"No!" Ernst objected and his blue eyes widened in fear. "I'm not fucking around like that, Konrad. No."
"Why not? Are you afraid?" Konrad narrowed his eyes at his companion and smiled wickedly. "I'll tell you what! You kill me. That would be a twist, wouldn't it? Haven't you ever wanted to kill someone, Ernie?"
"Konrad," Ernst's voice took on a pleading tone as he continued to back away until Konrad rushed to take him by the collar. 
The taller boy pulled a wicked, double-edged dagger from his pocket and pressed it against the smaller boy's neck.
"I'll make a deal with you. You kill me or I'll kill you," Konrad said as he pressed the knife a bit and blood ran from the shallow cut.
"Stop it!" Ernst shouted at him. "Stop it! All right! Let me think!"
Konrad let go of the boy and went back to the computer. He leaned down again to look closely at the Knight of Death, who still stood gazing out over the sea. "I'll get back to you, old friend." 
He clicked the mouse and turned to his friend. "Choose your method, sir. And make it good. Remember, if you fail to kill me, I get my chance at you."_



*For those of you familiar with the Assassin Chronicle series, I now have 19 of the books published on Kindle and 18 in paperback. To avoid loading the board with a separate thread for each book, I simply keep a few threads and rotate the books around to keep them fresh.*


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

There is much magick and mystical mayhem in the Assassin Chronicles. Here there be dragons, djinnis, wizards, knights and faery creatures. Here is a little excerpt from Book #14, the Skull of Sidon.

_The Djinni floated above the ground briefly and Simon crossed himself quickly. Lemarik settled back to the sand and pulled off his purple robe. He stood before them dressed in Lucio's clothes as was his habit now. He reached up both hands to his beard and crumpled it in his hands. The beard seemed to melt away. He blinked slowly at them as he rolled up the purple robe and handed it to Lavon. 
He seemed to forget about the two Knights momentarily and spoke with Lavon in a low voice. "Nicole has left us, son. She will go home to Scotland and I will go to Persia. I wanted to take Oriel with me, but she will not leave her Champlain. Come with me, my golden son. We will be glorious together." Lavon's mouth fell open. He had been begging and pleading with Oriel to tell him what she intended to do about Louis Champlain. He had told her that if she wanted to stay with Louis, that he would not put up a fight, that he only wanted her to be happy. "Come with me, Lavon." Lemarik held out his hand. "My beautiful daughter needs a husband and my grandsons and my granddaughter need a father. Come with me, son." Lemarik looked into the eyes of gold. Lavon reached out his hand and they were gone.
Corrigan spun about and Simon looked all around. They turned on Jozsef and he stumbled backwards from them with his sword raised in front of him.
"Where did they go?" Corrigan asked him. Ramsay's ancient sword lay on the sand at Jozsef's feet where Lavon had dropped it when he had vanished.
"To Persia?" Jozsef's eyes darted back and forth between the two Knights._


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Lord Adar is paying a visit to the Queen of the Abyss and she is showing her hospitality.

_"My grandson and I are hungry. Won't you fetch us some of that meat?" He told her and waved one hand casually toward the firepit. The Boggans were creeping back down the steps, cowering against the wall.
"Plotius!" The Queen shouted at her goblin captain. The beast hunkered down in front of the queen. His hairy knuckles dragging the floor. A silver helmet glittered on his unlikely pate with a long nose piece covering his ugly snout. "What meat is that you have tonight?" The Queen waved one hand lazily at the Boggan.
"A nice juicy elven pony, my Queen," Plotius grumbled and smiled at her. His voice did not match his looks. A strange memory of this creature singing made Mark Andrew frown. "Fat and full of blood."
"Ahhh. Our Lord Adar would like to try some of your cooking," she told him and then smiled at Jozsef. "He is quite a good cook, you will find and he sings like the finest songbird in the forest, if you like forests."
"On second thought." Mark Andrew's face betrayed his disgust. "I am not really hungry. Perhaps a bit of wine or mead? I rather like the elven fare."
"Ohhh, my Queen. Fergul and I have just captured a fine barrel of Tuathan beer. Would the Lord Adar wish to drink a cup with us?" He swayed back and forth in front of her like a child trying to please a parent.
"Yes. Yes. Bring three cups, Plotius. I will join you and we will allow our precious John du Morte to join us." 
"Wait, Plotius!" Mark Andrew called to the Boggan. "You say you captured the keg? Would the owner be near at hand?"
"No, my Lord," Plotius frowned apologetically. "There is nothing left of the elf, your greatness. If we had but known you preferred elvish fare we would have saved some for you."_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Things get completely out of hand in _Book XX, Cross Purposes _ of the _Assassin Chronicles _ when Sister Meredith's magick gets all out of whack again. A fight with hobgoblins on Midsummer's Night does not go well for the Knight of the Temple.

_Sometime during the night, Nicole's fever worsened. Lucio actually had to fight with her to keep her on the rather small bed as she tossed and turned and moaned and groaned and kicked all the cover on the floor repeatedly. She talked about all sorts of garbled things between spells of silence and spells of moaning and clutching her stomach where the infected wound was doing its best to kill her. He had managed to get the tight black jacket off of her and now lay behind her with both his arms wrapped around her arms as she clutched her stomach. Even in this terrible state of affairs, he could smell her hair and her close proximity was doing strange things to his head. Her blonde locks were limp with perspiration, but she still smelt like burnt sugar and pumpkin spice cake. A very strange odor that reminded him of someone else&#8230; some other time. She kicked and turned over facing him, folding her arms against his chest.
"Lucio?" Her voice was a bare whisper. 
"Yes?" He put his chin on top of her head.
"I have to tell you something," she whispered.
"It's all right. You don't have to tell me anything."
"No. I have to tell you," her voice trailed off. "There are things you need to know."
"You can tell me when you're feeling better."
"No. I may not have time."
"You are not going to die. I won't allow it."
She laughed very weakly. "That would be a blessing. Lucio, I have always loved you."
"I know."
"I mean that I have always loved you though I didn't really show it."
"You tried," he told her. "Sometimes things just don't work out. Some things are just not meant to be. Like Meredith and myself. It was not meant to be. And then Ruth and Jasmine. God has not done well by me, la dolce mia. I have not done well by Him."
"You have done better than you think," she answered. "If you get back to Lothian, tell Montague to watch Jozsef. If you see Armand, read the letter."
"What letter?" He drew back to look down at her in the darkness.
"The letter that Il Dolce Mio gave him," she said.
She was drifting again. The fever was still burning in her head.
"Armand has it," she said. "Find him and find the letter."
"I will," he said and smoothed down her hair. He kissed her forehead and a shiver ran through him.
"Swear it!" She raised her eyes to him briefly.
"I swear it."_


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

Tuathan beer?  Does that come in a 'lite'?  I have to watch my waistline.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Wouldn't it be wonderful to have hundreds of years to celebrate Christmas? The Knights and crew and cast of the Assassin Chronicles wish everyone the best in the Holiday Season!! Here's a little excerpt from the 5th book of the Assassin Chronicles aptly called The Red Cross of Gold [URL=V:]V:. the Quinta Essentia: The Assassin Chronicles[/url]

_"I will go as soon as possible, your Grace." Champlain's spirits seem to lift at once. Action was what he desired. He had come to the end of his path and did not know which way to turn. He would be glad to have a new direction to take. Before he left the impromptu meeting with the Grand Master, he took the Grand Master's hand and kissed his golden ring. "By your leave, Sir, I would prepare to go at once." 
The thought of visiting with John Paul again made his heart glad. He'd not seen him in ages, but he'd kept up with his many exploits. If nothing else, Ramsay should have been proud of his son. Louis was of the opinion that Mark Andrew needed some cheering up and that he might be able to help in that regard, since the Scot liked a good strong drink in the evening and a tall tale in front of the fire and there was no hearth in all of dark Scotland more worthy of a good story than the one in Sir Ramsay's library. In the elder days, he had made annual trips to Scotland in the Yuletide season to enjoy the snow and the warmth of the Scottish hearth and good Scotch whiskey. Some of his Brothers had asked why he would want to spend one of the most joyous times of the year with the brooding Knight of Death, but Louis had more than a string of good tales in common with the man. They both loved the simple life and a measure of solitude to go with it. Besides, Ramsay usually employed the best cooks the Order had to offer and his Christmas table was not to be missed._


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

Merry Christmas to the Knights and the crew and cast of the Assassin Chronicles, and to their illustrious author.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The Red Cross of Gold XXI:. The Dead Confess No Sins will be coming out on Kindle in Mid-January. So all you _Assassin Chronicles_ fans get ready for more adventure and clamity as the Knight of Death tries to get things back on track for Armageddon. If you think you have troubles, think again. What if you had a world of trouble of the worst possible kind and still had to save the world so everyone would be around for the Apocalypse? Not a good thing.

Coming to an eBook reader near you: *THE DEAD CONFESS NO SINS*


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

This is a note to anyone who may have already purchased the Dead Confess No Sins. The book was released a bit early on DTP due to an unfortunate keystroke and I want to apologize to anyone who has already purchased it. The copy was not quite ready for publication and contained a number of small errors and additions that could be mysterious to readers. The revised edition is in process at the moment and should be out later on today or tomorrow. I would suggest returning the book when I make the announcement and getting the new copy for your Kindle. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience. In the meantime, I would like to offer up to all new readers the fourth book, *the Hesperian Dragon*, in the series in honor of

APPRECIATE YOUR DRAGONS DAY!! (Thanks Jenna Johnson!)


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

OK! Great! The completed version of _the Dead Confess No Sins_ is now available at Amazon for Kindle.
-
Book 21 of the Assassin Series listed $2.99. REMINDER: Anyone who bought the book prior to 2:00 PM Today should return the book and then buy the revised version. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience.

Description: The Chevalier du Morte must continue his ruse in order to accomplish his triple mission in the Abyss, the Underworld and the Overworld. The Ancient Evil, thwarted in his attempt to use the very power of God, turns his attention to the fair lands and people of the faery realms. 
Sir Ramsay, still under Semiramis' curse struggles to maintain control of the Order of the Red Cross of Gold from afar as woodland elves, Tuathans and men join forces to fight against the Ancient Evil and try to subdue the enraged Annoni at the same time. The Knight of Death's troubles increase when the Knight of the Golden Eagle murders one of his Brothers and becomes a fugitive.
There is no place to run and no place to hide when the former Grand Master takes control of the remaining Templars and flees to the Underworld. And if they do not have enough trouble, the second scourge is called up from beyond the Abyss to wage war against them. Even the dead are recruited to the cause.


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

ip! ip! ohhray! good job!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The battles between good and evil heat up in The Red Cross of Gold XXI:. The Dead Confess No Sins. Here is part of a conversation between the faeries and the Djinnis concerning a mutual problem: a slightly insane dragon.

_Away to the south and the east, beneath the spreading limbs of five great oak trees, the dancing blue flames of five elven fires lit the area under the trees. Dozens of blue and green orbs drifted in and out among the branches. In the center of the area lit by the fire, a small group of elves sat on the ground in a rough circle. Il Dolce Mio sat between Sim and Fenn, his two senior captains. Lemarik paced around the inner circle. Bart, the Knocker, Paddy Puffingtowne and his cousin Seamus all sat on a log directly behind the King and the yellow Ifrit was perched on the roots of one of the oaks, watching them from his dark eyes. Here was a gathering of mystical creatures of unprecedented variety.

"We cannot allow the dragon to take the child." Lemarik was telling them in his sing-song voice. "This will never do! Lucius of Venetia will not relinquish his son any more than any one of us would. It is outrageous!"

"Inanna is a great and powerful beast, my brother," Il Dolce Mio spoke up. "She has never harmed us. She has never asked for anything."

"And now she wants this child. I tell you it is not unheard of," the voice of the yellow clad Djinni drifted across the circle. "In days of old, when many dragons roamed the lands, there were such demands made and met. Some dragons asked for children on a regular basis in return for peace. Others asked for gold, some asked for virgins."

"I will not be party to making sacrifices to a dragon," Lemarik answered his fellow creature. "These are not days of old. This dragon belongs to my father. She owes her very existence to him. She has no right to make demands."

"The help of the dragon is not needed," Il Dolce Mio told them. "We will defeat the red serpent on our own. We do not need her help. And so we will not have to consider giving the child to her."

"There is growing treachery among the Brothers of the Order. They fight with each other." Fenn looked about at the grave faces surrounding him. "Perhaps we should put them out of the plan altogether and trap the dragon ourselves. Their bickerings are most unproductive and very disturbing."

"We need the magick of the Royal Uncle to bring her to the proper place, Fenn," Sim objected.

"If the Royal Uncle could bring the dragon to the meadow, he would not have been seeking the help of the beast," Bombarik reminded them. "His magick is not powerful enough to command this thing. Only her master could command such a thing. Does no one among you know where to find the red beast's master?"

"Her master is not among us. Nor is he sympathetic to our cause." Lemarik spun on him. "Would you call up the evil of Marduk?"

At the mention of the dark Lord's name, the elves cringed and a murmur encircled the group as they shook their heads emphatically.

"You commanded her at one time." Il Dolce Mio looked up at his brother. "Can you not summon her?"

Lemarik stopped swaying about the circle and stood in front of the King.

"It would be very dangerous. She has changed much since she lived under my palace in the Mountains of the Moon. The Queen of the Abyss healed her and then became one with her. Her mind is twisted and full of evil intent. I would not try such a thing now. She may be able to read my thoughts. It could be that I would bring more destruction upon us."

"I am not afraid to try this thing." The Ifrit stood up and his dark eyes flashed. "I have much power. If we work together&#8230;"

"No!" Lemarik shook his head and spread his hands in front of him. "I do not trust you, my old friend. I learned long ago of the treacheries which lie in the hearts of the Ifrit."

"As you said, these are not days of old. I am likewise trapped here with my master. I would only wish to be done with this thing so that I might be free again." Bombarik smiled at him. "It would serve my purposes as well as yours to help you in this respect."_


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Me n the crew tried to keep a dragon as a pet/mascot/member of the crew but we had to let her, go she had gas so bad from eating brusels sprouts an well that caused her heartburn and as a result it caused her to burn up a couple of small villages before we could pillage thus prompting the first bumper sticker "REMEMBER PILLAGE FIRST THEN BURN"...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

I have to get one of those stickers for my truck!  LOL.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In this one instance, Mark has been able to avoid one mistake. Can he avoid others? Can he turn some of them around? Read on and find out. The Red Cross of Gold [URL=V:]V:. the Quinta Essentia: The Assassin Chronicles[/url]

_"And you can seriously turn me down? Now? Here?" she asked. It was unbelievable. She knew how she affected him. How easy it was for her to make his resolve melt. She knew nothing had changed in that regard. It was the first time she had realized just how strongly he felt about this thing, but this was not the Dark Ages and they were not going to die and go to hell for loving each other. Fidelity. Adultery. Hell fire and damnation. Even if she had to make him mad as Hell, she always got what she wanted in the end. "You can send me away?"

"I can," he said. "I am the Alchemist." He had prepared himself for just this occasion. There were herbal remedies for everything. One only had to know what to take in advance. The effects were short-lived, but potent enough for Sampson to resist Delilah. For Romeo to spurn Juliet. For Zeus to&#8230;

"Are you sure?" she asked and reached past the sword to check the truth of his words.

"Are you willing to sleep with a sword?" he asked.

"I am not afraid of your blade," she said and laughed. He had outwitted her, but her fear was assuaged by the fact that he had used magick to resist her. She was flattered and disappointed at the same time.

"And are you willing to take full responsibility for any blood that might be shed?"

"I am," she answered a bit more solemnly, wondering what he was talking about now.

"Then so be it."

Mark placed the hilt of the golden sword between her bare breasts, kissed her lightly on the lips and wrapped her hands around the hilt. "It has always given me great comfort in trying times. May it do the same for you, Sister." He turned on his back and was asleep almost immediately. _

Book Description: $2.99 Mark Ramsay's troubles increase as he tries unsuccessfully to come to terms with the fact that he has been gone from his beloved Scotland for 21 years during which time Meredith has married his best Brother and constant nemesis, Lucio Dambretti. On top of his woes, he must use his alchemical mysteries to help place the fabled Philosopher's Stone in the Golden Key that unlocks the Ark of the Covenant. While he's busy trying to reclaim his life and his home, an ancient enemy resurfaces and begins to wreak havoc on the Order of the Red Cross of Gold.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

The Brothers of the Red Cross of Gold are desperately trying to help the Elves prepare to meet a foe that they cannot hope to defeat. The poisonous arrows will help, but probably not enough. Even though they might all perish, the poison was not something to be toyed with:

_"Don't worry," Armand told him. "One drop of this and a man would suffer a terrible death!"
"That is very true," Lemarik agreed and took Ruth's arm pulling her away from the table as Armand removed the glass stopper in the bottle. The other Knights stepped back as he poured the stuff into a stone bowl made of polished granite. The poison had the consistency of melted tar and the bowl popped and cracked as the stuff hissed into the cold depression.
"Get the covers ready," Armand told his Brothers. "I'll dip the points and then I want you to wrap them in cloth and put them in the quivers. Don't touch the stuff whatever you do."
Barry and Guy nodded solemnly and stood ready on either side of him. A small stack of cloth squares lay in front of each of them and four quivers leaned against the table. Eight archers would carry the poisoned arrows for use against the dragon. Eight lancers would carry poisoned lances in special pouches on their ponies.
Armand dipped the first arrow in the black stuff and twisted it slowly in the air in front of him, allowing the stuff to dry a bit before handing it to Barry. Barry covered the tip with a square of cloth and then twisted it tight with a pair of metal tongs. He slipped it, point-first into the quiver.
Il Dolce Mio skipped into the laboratory and stopped. The acrid odor of the poison made him wrinkle his small nose. He stepped forward cautiously and laid his dagger and scabbard on the worktable.
Armand eyed him curiously.
"What do you want me to do, your Grace?" Armand asked him.
"I want you to treat my dagger with the poison." 
"I don't think that's very wise, your Highness." Barry frowned at him. "Why do you want a poison dagger?"
"Close combat," the King told him shortly.
"But you won't be getting that close to the beast," Guy de Lyons objected. They had not planned to take the King with them. Or, at least, it had not been mentioned.
"Indulge me." Il Dolce Mio's expression changed and he looked at them from under his dark brows. "I am not a child!"
"Yes, your Grace." Armand picked up the scabbard of the King and drew the silver dagger from it. He held up the elven work of art and shook his head. It would be a shame to ruin it.
_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Is it possible to commit an un-confessable sin? The Knight of Death seems to think so:

_The dream about Luke Matthew and the slaughter of his Templar contingency, his first command, had come again. The fourth or fifth time in as many days and he hadn't thought about that event in ages. It had been the first time he had committed a sin he felt he could not confess. And, yet, he had finally confessed it and had not received the punishment he had expected. But the circumstances had been a bit... unusual. The Holy Crusades had made monsters of men and saints of monsters. Templars were hanged for killing infidels on the one hand and then applauded for killing innocents on the other. No one seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing at any given time. The conflict in Vietnam during the second half of the twentieth century was probably the best modern comparison to what the crusades had been. No one seemed to know or care what went on until someone important noticed or felt compelled to make a complaint. These complaints were always followed by a quick search for the guilty, punishment for the innocent and great praise for the ruthless tyrants in charge. 
His life had been all downhill after that fateful day or so it seemed.
"If you feel you need to confess, Mark," she said softly and leaned toward him to brush his hair back from his damp forehead "then you should. I think that Simon would be more than willing to hear it. He has never let you down in that respect before, has he?"
"Before is the key word here, Merry," Mark sighed and looked up at her from a pained frown. "Before covers a lot of ground. And think of the circumstances now. How could I say it to him? You were&#8230; he was&#8230; Things have changed between us. It's hard for me to speak with him on private matters. Especially concerning you. Besides, Merry, there's confession and then there's confession."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I mean there are things a man confesses and things he does not," he shrugged and brushed away her hand again. "There are things fit for the ears of a priest and things best never spoken."
"That's ludicrous!" Merry objected. "You mean to tell me that you don't confess everything? That you only confess selected items? Things that you think are proper for a priest to hear?"
"Of course," he told her irritably. "You know that!"
"I do not know that," she said and sat down on the bed beside him. "I didn't know there were unconfessable sins, Mark. That doesn't make any sense."
"Well, ask Louis about it or Barry. They'll tell you," he said. "But I'm not talking about unconfessable sins, Meredith. I'm not talking about unforgivable sins. There's a difference."
"Just close your eyes and say it!" she told him in exasperation. "I would confess it for you, if I could. I feel like I'm responsible anyway. It was my stupid idea to start with. You would have never thought of it. I suppose I must feel about like Eve did when she convinced Adam to eat the apple. I'm sorry, Mark Andrew. If there is anything I can do... anything..."
"That's how you got into trouble the last time." He smiled at her ruefully. "Don't make promises you can't keep. There's nothing you can do except, maybe..." He threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed as the lights dimmed for the last time and went out. The room was thrown into total darkness. The old generator in the basement had been on the blink for three years, nay four. The strobing light of the storm cast bluish hues about the room as he got to his knees in front of her.
_


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Deep down I think just about everyone has an "un-confessable sin"...


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In the nineteenth installment of the Assassin Chronicles, How Men Do It, the faeries in the underworld have a new king. Faeries belong to the 'other world' or 'underworld', which lies between our plane of existence on Earth and the Abyss, sometimes called hell or Hades. They sometimes interact with humans, but they are generally shy, music-loving creatures of gentle nature, or so the tales go, but there are many different kinds of faeries and they are not all shy and benevolent or harmless. Though all of them love music, they do not all necessarily love mankind.

_ "That is truly beautiful," Constance Schumacher d'Ornan whispered as she sat looking up at the roof of the keep where Simeon's father lay in the chapel.
"It is," Simeon nodded his agreement.
The sound of bagpipes, penny whistles and dulcimers drifted down to the top of the round tower where they sat in the moonlight.
"How long do you think they will come here?" She asked him.
"I have no idea," Simeon smiled sadly at her. He and Izzy and Zebulon had climbed up there to see where the music was coming from every night since it started, but they had never been able to accomplish anything other than scaring off whoever was playing it. The music was old and beautifully suited to the ancient Irish stronghold. "Poppi would enjoy it. Someone certainly loved him."
"I'm sure he does enjoy it, Simeon, and everyone loved him," Constance assured her husband, Simon of Grenoble's second eldest son. He was actually the tallest of the boys and had more muscle mass than the others, but he seemed to be the most docile, good-natured fellow. Not exactly sweet, but certainly cuddly. His fluffy blonde hair had just the hint of curl in it and he had dimples, the only set in the family. Constance believed herself very fortunate to have won his heart. "Do you think it's faeries?"
"I'm sure it is. Andy says it is. He says it's Paddy Puffingtowne and some of his friends, but they are very shy of the big people. That's what they call us: big people as opposed to them being the 'little people' or 'wee folk'."
"Ahh. So Andy knows about the faeries?" Her face lit up. Things had been so terrible since her sister-in-law and Simeon's grandfather, Master d'Brouchart, had brought the body of the Healer to the island and placed it in the chapel. The thought of faeries presiding over the island was a refreshing thought in comparison to the black mood that had descended over them.
"Andy knows everything about them," Simeon told her. "Didn't you know? He used to visit them in the underworld when he was a boy."
"Really?" She snuggled against his side and pulled the woolen shawl close about her shoulders as he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple. "Did he ever tell you about them?"
"He tried, but we were shamefully cruel to Andy. We thought he was making stuff up. And then when he started bleeding, we thought he was cutting himself for attention. We were stupid, mean boys, Connie."
"All boys are stupid and mean in some way or another," she laughed. "Didn't you know that?" She said it, but she couldn't ever remember Simeon being mean or stupid. He was thoughtful and kind, but he took no gruff off of anyone. Not even Vallen Martin could intimidate Simeon. She remembered hearing her father-in-law referring to him as the Lion of Juda and saying he should have named him Samson instead of Simeon.
His eyes widened and he turned his head slowly to look at her in surprise. "I didn't know you felt that way about boys."_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Luke Andrew is having some trouble convincing the Order of the Red Cross of Gold that he is trustworthy. Considering his past activities, it is understandable that they wouldn't quite trust him. The Red Cross of Gold XIX:. How Men Do It. $2.99

_"I swear on my father's grave." Luke raised his right hand. "I am telling the truth, Master."
"Your father has no grave." Konrad closed his eyes and then looked up at the rough wood ceiling of the cell.
"Well, he should have one. He died an honorable and brave death," Luke told him in all seriousness. "But of course, it couldn't end so well. He is now rejoined with the Grand Master who almost pulled all of my hair out."
"Have you told anyone about this?" Konrad asked him.
"No, of course not." Luke got up and went to the small, barred window in the stone wall. "I told them that I would give my statement to you and so I have."
"But you are not telling me everything, Luke." Konrad crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his legs out in front of him in his familiar pose. "They want to know where you buried the skulls or where you hid them."
"I'll not tell them," he shook his head. "I am a Templar now and I take my orders from the old man. The Grand Master trusted me with this job and I don't intend to let him down. I can't afford to. The New Order of the Temple is dead. I have no place to go." Luke turned from the window and looked at the dark Knight intently. "Omar can't return to the overworld. He told me what happened. He can't reclaim his empire and without him, I would be at the mercy of Abyaz Babar." Luke waved one arm about and then lowered his voice. "Personally, I would not want to be in Babar's shoes right now. Without the Prophet to back him up, he is nothing. Omar made him what he is. My God! He was an illiterate shepherd. A goat-herding Bedouin when General Lyon found him. The kindly general cut out his tongue. And Konrad... I mean, Master von Hetz. The general is still out there. He may not be Abbe Lyon any more, but he is still there. You know him. Ernst Schweikert, your old buddy. Ernst was bad enough, but now he carries around the Scorpion Lord, himself. The man is unpredictable and totally evil. And don't forget my father's old friend al Hafiz al Sajek. And Lord Nergal. Great Scot! The entire underworld is in the overworld and my father is down there trying to repair the damage they did. If he doesn't succeed, we're all going to have to find the Starship Enterprise and beam out of here."
"They will never buy it, Luke," Konrad shook his head. "I understand what you are saying and it is all very true. But they will not believe that you know nothing of Sir Barry and Rachel Leah. What do you think happened to them?"
Luke sat down on the edge of the hard cot and leaned his elbows on his knees.
"I don't know. I was under the tower. I saw no one. If they came there, it was after I left with the skulls. Father said he would take care of the hole and so he did. Maybe he took them with him." Luke looked up with a hopeful expression. _


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

In book nineteen of the Assassin Chronicles, Omar, the Prophet, has come to a humiliating low and Luke must learn hard lessons about life and Karma. The man he thought was his father was not quite what he seemed and now he must appeal to his other relatives for help. Desperation can a show a man the error of his ways in very short order, but the injuries Luke has inflicted on his family might cause them to leave him high and dry. The Red Cross of Gold XIX:. How Men Do It, only $2.99 at amazon.com. Also available in paperback form.

_"I can walk," the Prophet told him and was then jerked forward.
"Ye'd best larn t' run!" Luke shouted at him as he pulled him toward the stairs. 
The four of them made their way as quickly as possible back down the stairs. Lemarik was still standing in the middle of the table. Luke led them to the far side of the stairwell to the corridor leading to the cellar.
"Lemarik!" Simon turned back to call to the Djinni. Omar spun around in front of him and called to his father, blinking blearily.
"I cannot touch the smoke, my friends!" Lemarik's voice drifted to them as the smoke rose higher. "I will catch up with you later. Take care of my beautiful son, Omar."
"Father!" Omar shouted as Simon shoved him ahead of him. 
"Where are we going?" Simon called to Luke Andrew.
"This way. Stop! Wait here." Luke hurried into the lab and came back with a long bundle wrapped in white cloth. The mist had not come this way. Luke threw open a wooden door beneath the stairwell. The interior was dark. "In there. We'll go and visit old Luff."
"What?" Simon looked at the dark opening with trepidation.
"No time," Luke said and shoved the Healer viciously and he pulled the shrieking Lydia after him. Omar turned about dizzily in the hall.
"Dammit, Omar!" Luke grabbed him. "Snap out of it."
He shoved the discombobulated Prophet into the door under the stairs.
The Prophet shouted as he plummeted into the darkness under the stairs and then shrieked as he slid down what seemed to be a very smooth chute made of cold stone. The light from the open door above was suddenly cut off.
Luke spun about in the hall. Why had the fog or whatever it was not come here? He did not want to leave his father's head in the lab. It made his flesh crawl and to think of what was upstairs made his head spin, but he had been so close. So close. He wondered where Jozsef had gotten off to. Perhaps this Queen of whom he knew very little would take the Grand Master and leave. He rushed into the lab and sat down on the tall stool. He unwrapped the great sword Excalibur and slid it carefully into the belt which held the scabbard in which his father's golden sword was encased. Now he wore both swords of power and his staghorn dagger, though the presence of so many formidable weapons did nothing to allay his fears. He glanced at the head of his father under the glass dome of the bell jar positioned directly under the oil lamp and just beyond the brass bowl full of water.
He tried force his mind to calm down, closed his eyes and then looked into the water. He could see the reflection of his father's lifeless eyes in the surface of the liquid. He had no idea what he was doing. He picked up the little brown bottle and removed the cork. He took a bit of the red elixir on his finger and made a cross on his forehead.
"Father," he said in a low voice "if ever there was any love in your heart for your true son, hear me now. Speak to me. Tell me what I should do to get out of this place. I promise to take Omar and Lydia and Simon and Jozsef with me. I promise to look after them if I can find them and the Golden Eagle, too, if I can find him."
Colors swirled on the surface of the water and coalesced. He held the bottle of red liquid over the bowl and let one tiny drop of the Dragon's Blood drip into the water. When the ripples subsided, he let go an involuntary shriek at the sight of his uncle's face. Luke Matthew peered at him from the dish.
"Uncle?" He swallowed hard and whispered the word.
"What is it you want, my son?" The voice was not Luke Matthew. It was smoother, less gruff than he remembered. 
"I want out of this place!" Luke shouted at the apparition. "Where is my father?"
"He is not here." The face wavered in the water.
"John?" Luke leaned over the bowl. "John Paul."
"Yes? Luke Andrew?"
"Oh, my God. John Paul. I'm sorry. Forgive me. John Paul. You must help me. John. I'm sorry. I&#8230;"_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Some interesting personalities get thrown together in The Red Cross of Gold XIX:. How Men Do It, the nineteenth book in the Assassin Chronicles series. They don't exactly get along well and things are not going very well in the underworld. This book is a turning point for Mark Andrew's son, Luke. $2.99 at Amazon. Also available in paperback and at Smashwords. Not intended for younger readers.

_"What the hell is all the noise about?" He asked his nephew. It was hard for him to separate Jozsef from Omar except for the beard.
"The Queen is ill in the woods and lost. Dambretti is with her," Jozsef told him. "We must go out and look for her." He did not want to mention to his drunken uncle that Sam was having a baby. He did not like Luke's attitude and the fact that he was sitting at the table getting drunk when they were in such danger here. He really didn't like Luke at all and it seemed that he now looked more like Mark Andrew than ever before and that made Jozsef dislike him even more. Only the shape of his jaw and his chin was different, reminding Jozsef of his grandmother, Meredith and he had the dimple in his chin like Lemarik. 
"She doesn't need my help," Luke Andrew told him and waved one, black-gloved hand at him. "The little bitch hated me." He was very drunk.
Jozsef stopped in his tracks and drew a deep breath. The hilt of the King's golden sword protruded from the frogs at Luke Andrew's hip. Jozsef had planned on taking it for himself. First, he had been cheated more or less out of his father's sword and now this ingrate, son-of-a-bitch was wearing his grandfather's sword.
"You'd best watch your tongue, uncle, or you'll find it on the floor," he told him darkly.
Luke pushed himself up shakily and turned to lean against the table, raising his chin slightly.
"And who do you suppose is going to relieve me of it? Not you."
"You're drunk!" Jozsef wrinkled his nose at his uncle. "And I don't have time for this. Where are Simon and Lemarik?"
"Upstairs," Luke waved one arm haphazardly. "Downstairs. Who knows? Who cares?"_


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

If you found a local stream clogged with glassy, black marbles flowing like water, would you investigate or run? Run would be the better choice if you found yourself lost in the underworld. Excerpt from The Red Cross of Gold, Assassin Chronicles Book 19, $2.99 at Amazon.

_"It's impossible to tell how deep it might be!" Simon shouted to him. "We might sink out of sight."
"Ugghh." Omar made a twisted face at the thought and knelt on one knee beside the morass. He leaned out over the stream and jabbed the point of the dagger straight into the white spot in the center of one of the marbles with the intent of skewering one for a closer look.
A very high pitched scream filled the air and Omar scrambled back from the edge of the embankment. The one scream was joined by others and very soon, the entire world was filled with an ear-splitting screech as millions of voices joined to become one. Simon reached for Omar's hand and dragged him up the grassy bank to the meadow. The three terrified travelers turned and fled back in the direction from which they had come in panicked abandon. When the noise finally abated, they slowed and then collapsed on the grass, breathing hard, unable to speak for quite some time.
Simon sat up and pulled his water skin off his shoulder and took a drink. He passed the skin to Lydia and then Omar. They stared at each other in disbelief.
"My dagger!" Omar moaned regretfully and looked back in the direction of the stream. "I dropped it."
"Leave it," Simon told him. "We'll have to turn north toward the outcroppings and look for someplace to safely cross this thing."
"It was alive," Lydia told them wide-eyed her voice barely above a whisper._


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## vikingwarrior22 (May 25, 2009)

Now don't be giving away trade secrets "How Men Do It" Laddie !!


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Is suicide ever justifiable? And even if it is, why would Simon think he needed to kill himself? And will the Red Cross of Gold continue to take in outcasts and unsavory elements into its folds? What will become of the purpose and mission if they keep allowing such things to happen?
Book 19, How Men Do It, is available at Amazon for $2.99 and is also available in paperback and Smashwords.

_Barry frowned at Armand in disbelief. "Suicide? There is nothing worse, Armand. Nothing. Suicide is the greatest crime a man can commit. There is no honor in suicide. There is no&#8230;" his voice failed him.
"There are times when suicide is the right thing," Guy de Lyons objected to Barry's summation in Simon's defense. "I have spent a great deal of my life studying the Art of War and the mentality of the warrior. When a warrior can no longer stand against the foe he faces and he feels that the cause is best served by his own death, then suicide is quite an honorable death and considered very brave by many cultures."
"We are not Japanese! We are soldiers of Christ and suicide is a sin," Barry told him. "Simon has condemned his soul to hell. Simon, our beloved Simon. There is no amount of love or anguish or prayer that we can do to help save his soul. It makes my heart hurt. I have never felt such pain in all my life. If he were here, I would kill him myself for inflicting such agony on his Brothers."
Barry pressed his hands to his face and sat down again. He was inconsolable in his grief and making no sense. 
"I have found a letter that Simon left in his room," Montague told them and pulled a parchment letter folded and sealed with wax in the old style, addressed very carefully to William Montague, Seneschal, Honorable Knight of the Holy City, poor Knight of Solomon's Temple, Order of the Red Cross of Gold, Lothian, Scotland. The seal was unbroken. He laid it very carefully in the center of the table. The four Knights and three apprentices at the table looked at the letter as if it were a creature from the Abyss. "I have been unable to break the seal. I cannot do it."
"I won't do it," Louis spoke up.
"Surely not I," Guy de Lyons shook his head, but continued to stare at the letter.
"Armand. You are the historian." Montague turned his eyes on the Knight of the Throne.
"No. No. Not me. I cannot. Holy mother and Child. I cannot," Armand whispered as he sat frozen in his seat.
"We should give it to Monsieur d'Brouchart. He is Simon's father," Barry suggested and Louis agreed readily. Barry began to cry in earnest and Louis cringed. He had never seen Barry cry about anything&#8230; ever. He'd not thought it possible.
"If the Grand Master were here, surely he would have addressed it to him." Armand supplied another possibility. "We should save it until Brother Ramsay returns."
De Lyons agreed whole-heartedly with this suggestion.
"That might be a feasible plan," Montague nodded and looked at Planxty. "Unless Mr. Grine or Apolonio would care to open it?"
"Oh, nay, I could not do such a thing, Sir," Planxty shook his head and tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Do not ask me to do it," Apolonio told them. "I have no right."
"Keep it for my Master," Christopher spoke up. "Surely he is the one to do it."
"We were supposed to go to the island for his funeral," Barry told them. "How can we do that?"
"There is nothing stopping us," Montague responded. "We can still go as planned. There will just be one less member in the party." He glared at Christopher Stewart again.
"I mean, how can we give Simon a funeral?" Barry asked them. "He's not dead."
Montague leaned back slightly in the chair and fell silent. Barry's denial was not a good sign. He did not want to lose another Knight to insanity.
"His father and Oriel want to give him a service and then place him back in the chapel on the roof," Louis explained quietly. "There he will wait until the Grand Master returns."
"And if he does not return?" Barry looked around the table at each of them, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeves.
"Then we will allow Luke Andrew Ramsay to perform the rite&#8230; after an appropriate waiting period has been voted on," Konrad said from the hallway behind them, startling them. "I tell you, Brothers, he has been given the gift by the Grand Master. Like everything Mark Ramsay has done in the past, this too, must have a reason. I have had news from Reuben that Jasmine de Bleu's body has disappeared from the chapel. Only Simon remains now."
"Then she has returned to the overworld," Christopher perked up. "This could be good news. It may mean that the Master will be returning soon."
"Has anyone told Luke Andrew yet?" Montague gave Konrad a sidelong glance. He would not under any circumstances allow Luke Andrew Ramsay to perform such a holy rite over Simon of Grenoble, of all people. He expected Luke Andrew to leave them any moment and go on his own way. He simply could not believe that Luke Andrew had changed so profoundly that he would give up his rapacious ways to join their cause. If Jasmine was out of the trance, then Luke would most likely go off to find her and that would be that. And Montague would have been relieved to see him go. He wanted nothing to do with him. He wanted his Grand Master back and he wanted things to resume what little normalcy that they had left. Luke Andrew frightened him and made him shudder every time he looked at him. It was almost as if Luke had consumed his father and tried to take on his outward appearance. It would not have surprised the Seneschal if Luke Andrew had not come back and demanded that every one accept him as Grand Master.
"I was just on my way to tell him," Konrad said gruffly as he passed by the table and stopped to look back at them angrily. "I didn't know we were having a meeting."
"We are not in council, Brother," Montague told him sharply. "You would have been notified."
"Since you are all here, I would like to make known that I have decided to take Luke Andrew on as my apprentice. He attended the Academy for three years. His records are duly retained in the archives and he is, by right of birth, entitled to claim his father's lands as long as they stay under the umbrella of the Order's agreements concerning the disposition of communal and personal properties belonging to Knighted men," the dark Knight told them and then walked swiftly from the room, leaving them in shocked silence. "In other words, as long as he stays within the Order, takes the Templar oath, swears proper allegiance and answers to the Grand Master."
William Montague felt the blood drain from his face. There had to be some way to bar Luke Andrew from the Order. He stood abruptly and took Armand by the arm.
"Come with me, Brother," he said in a low voice. "There must be something that can be done about this."
_


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## mamiller (Apr 28, 2009)

Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Brendan...to you and your wonderful family.


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Has it been that long since I've been here, Miss Miller, or is this an early wish? I hope you are doing well and you had a great Thanksgiving. I'm already looking forward to 2012 Thanksgiving, which, if the conspiracy theorists are correct, will be the last Turkey Day as we know it. *Sigh*

Here's a little sample of _The Red Cross of Gold XIX:. How Men Do It_ (be sure to start with book 1: The Knight of Death):

_"Father," he said in a low voice "if ever there was any love in your heart for your true son, hear me now. Speak to me. Tell me what I should do to get out of this place. I promise to take Omar and Lydia and Simon and Jozsef with me. I promise to look after them if I can find them and the Golden Eagle, too, if I can find him."
Colors swirled on the surface of the water and coalesced. He held the bottle of red liquid over the bowl and let one tiny drop of the Dragon's Blood drip into the water. When the ripples subsided, he let go an involuntary shriek at the sight of his uncle's face. Luke Matthew peered at him from the dish.
"Uncle?" He swallowed hard and whispered the word.
"What is it you want, my son?" The voice was not Luke Matthew. It was smoother, less gruff than he remembered. 
"I want out of this place!" Luke shouted at the apparition. "Where is my father?"
"He is not here." The face wavered in the water.
"John?" Luke leaned over the bowl. "John Paul."
"Yes? Luke Andrew?"
"Oh, my God. John Paul. I'm sorry. Forgive me. John Paul. You must help me. John. I'm sorry. I&#8230;"
"Hush." The vision frowned at him. "You must forgive yourself, Luke. Your sins are forgiven. You wear the Cross now. The Blood of the Dragon. The crucifixion. Protect my father. Stay away from the Queen."
"John!" Luke was horrified now. He had killed John Paul or at least he had caused him to die. But&#8230; brother. Please. Tell me how to stop her."
"You cannot stop her," John shook his head. "God's will be done." The vision blurred and vanished.
"No. Wait. Wait!" Luke grabbed inanely at the water. He looked up at his father's pale face. He slid from the stool and took another bit of the elixir on his index finger. His hands were shaking as he approached the bench. He drew in a deep breath and reached out to draw a cross on his father's cold forehead. Surely this was what John Paul had been trying to tell him to do, but he did not see the purpose of it. He let out the breath he was holding and then felt a coldness unlike anything he had ever felt before in his feet as if they had suddenly become encased in ice and he heard a terrific wailing shriek in the lab with him as if the very walls were screaming at him. He clamped his hands over his ears and looked down. The black fog had entered the lab and was traveling up his legs. With a slow realization he felt the cold creeping up his legs as the mist thickened about him. He screamed and tried to step forward, but he could not feel the floor. He stumbled and grabbed the work counter very near his father's head.
"Help me, father!" He shouted into the face of the dead King. He was slipping, grabbing for his father's hair and then felt himself falling into the black morass at his feet. He wrapped his arms about his hideous prize as he fell. The cold enveloped his face and there was no more light._


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## Brenda Carroll (May 21, 2009)

Book 19 of the Assassin Chronicles may have a somewhat misleading title, but there is no shortage of magick between the covers either. Pardon the pun. In this scene, the Djinni surprises his half-brother by giving him a magickal gift from the Treasures of Briton. Get "How Men Do It" for $3.99 at Amazon.com and Smashwords. Also available in paperback from Amazon.

_
"Son of Adar!" He said and stopped at the bottom of the stairs and drew his dagger from his belt.
Luke frowned at the Djinni and then blinked at the glinting blade of the dagger in his half-brother's hand.
"What? Are you going to kill me now?" Luke asked him and really didn't care. He'd fight the Djinni, if that's what he wanted to do. He'd fight Jozsef and Lemarik. He'd fight Jozsef and Lemarik and Simon of Grenoble and Anna and the whole rotten bunch. He really didn't give a damn.
"Oh. No. No. No. No. No." Lemarik swayed across the floor toward him. "I want only to express my gratitude for what you did for my beautiful son, Omar. I have learned from him that you would not leave him in his time of need. He has also told me that you vanquished the Scorpion Lord and that you also slew the rogue, Michael Townsley. These are great deeds of valor and you should be proud of your accomplishments, Son of Adar. I have procured this dagger from Anna. It is one of the treasures of Briton, taken from the tomb of Myrddyn, the great sorcerer of King Arthur. I know that your father would want you to have it."
Luke blinked at him. Lemarik had a strange way of turning things, even evil things into good simply by supplying a different perspective. His drunken mind tried to make the switch from depression to satisfaction at receiving such accolades and compliments from Omar's father. He would never have believed it possible to win the respect of the Mighty Djinni.
The Djinni laid the beautifully carved dagger on the table in front of him. Its stag horn handle was covered with carvings of running deer and archers portrayed in the hunt. The silver and gold blade was covered with intricate etchings of mystical beasts with fierce faces.
"It was made by the Tuathan artisans. A faery weapon of great power. It can slice through the toughest hide and the thickest bone with ease and no magick can turn its edge," Lemarik told him gravely. "It is a magnificent gift and I offer it to you in your father's name as your older brother. And when you throw it, it will return to you&#8230; as long as you use in good faith."
Luke did not know what to say. Lemarik had never called him brother.
"I am&#8230; honored," he said slowly and picked up the dagger. He immediately felt guilty. His reasons for killing Abbe Lyons and Michael Townsley had not been exactly as Omar must have described them. Certainly the dagger would not have returned to his hand if he had used it to kill these two men or whatever they had been._


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