Did she want to? Would the very thing Kamen loved her for—her pure Tamari nature—drive them apart? Kamen growled and punched the wall as he stormed down the torch-lit corridor. Just thinking about it boiled his blood. He had no desire to return to the main hall to sit and talk and listen to the Ausir lords prattle on about their pedigrees and how well they were suited to rule. Someone had assassinated the Ausir King, and Kamen suspected that some horned devil who shared the festhall with him was responsible. A stack of metal basins towered near some closed door at the top of the stairs. Kamen swerved to kick the pots down the steps, and the crashing sound silenced the sound of distant voices raised in excitement. Were the Ausir playing a game? At a time like this? Banar, the festhall master, met him on the stairs. “My lord?” He was all jowly smiles. Kamen wanted to punch the fat man in the face, but he checked his anger. Banar looked at the scattered basins only for a moment, snapping his fingers and setting his slaves to cleaning up the mess.
