worry and that he was there if anything should happen.
Outside, the despondent sky hung low, heavy with gray clouds that promised rain.
Adrian led Connor to the side of the inn. “What
do you think they want with your father?”
“I don’t know. I ... I don’t like it, though.”
“Neither do I,” Adrian said. “They said
something to your father; whatever it was it really worried him.”
“I didn’t like the looks on their faces,
either,” Connor said, his mouth tight.
The private room where Alexis and his companions
had taken Jon Moor was near the back of the common room, beside the stairs that
led to the upper floors of the inn. Adrian and Connor walked around the
building and into the alley at the back. Cut into the wall at the approximate
height of a man was a glass window meant to air out the room and let some light
in. The window was open, held up by a wooden rod. Adrian and Connor looked up at
it, but neither was tall enough to reach it.
“What--” Adrian began, but Connor turned away
and began to pull some empty crates from across the alley.
They aligned the small crates beneath the
window. Adrian, the lighter of the two, stepped onto the boxes. The crates
began to creak, warning him that they could collapse at any moment.
“Would you hurry up?” Connor hissed. “I don’t
want to be caught sneaking into my own father’s inn.”
Adrian waved at Connor to be quiet, and then
peeked into the dim light of the room. His blood was racing. He fully expected
them to get caught at any moment.. Silently, he gestured Connor onto the crates
beside him. Connor joined him, seemingly ignorant of the creaks and squeaks of
their wooden platforms. Adrian motioned him to silence as they crouched beneath
the window.
Adrian turned to whisper into his cousin’s ear.
“I think this is far enough. We can make out what they are saying.” Connor
nodded absently. From the other side of the wall came the voices.
2
“What is this all about?” Jon asked again. He
sat on one side of a table, while the three men were seated across from him,
watching him closely.
“My name is Hamar Ronan,” said the blunt man
sitting in the middle. “These are my companions, Owain Lannit and Alexis
Marshall. We are here on orders of King Aeiron.”
“King Aeiron?” Jon asked, baffled. “Why?”
“You will learn soon enough ,” said the man with
the flame-orange hair who Hamar had introduced as Owain.
Questions whirled in Jon’s head, but these men
only gave him bits of information at a time, and then watched to see how he
digested those bits. A surging anger began to well inside him. He didn’t want
to be the center of these men’s games. “You are going to have to be clearer. I
still don’t know what this is all about.”
“Very well,” said Hamar. He began to strip his
left glove. “We are men of the Legion --”
“Legionnaires?” asked Jon, bewildered. He
wondered why he should be so surprised; who else would the King send but men of
his Legion. If the King had indeed sent them.
“Yes--”
“Even him?” asked Jon, nodding towards the
youth.
“Even him,” answered Hamar tightly, holding up
the back of his left hand so that Jon could clearly see the mark of the Legion
tattooed there, a maroon eagle in a the middle of a complicated ring of vines.
“As to why we are here; we were sent here to find an Ascillian child.”
A silence filled the room as Hamar’s words
settled. Jon gaped at the three men across from him. His breathing stilled,
though his heart beat faster, and he sat motionless. Darkness crept along the
edges of his vision, and he welcomed the possibility of losing consciousness,
if only to escape this conversation. But the faintness passed and he was forced
to confront the men before him. This had started as good a day as any other,
but he was suddenly certain that it would end being one of the worst of his
life. “There ... there is no Ascillian child here.”
“We believe
Outside, the despondent sky hung low, heavy with gray clouds that promised rain.
Adrian led Connor to the side of the inn. “What
do you think they want with your father?”
“I don’t know. I ... I don’t like it, though.”
“Neither do I,” Adrian said. “They said
something to your father; whatever it was it really worried him.”
“I didn’t like the looks on their faces,
either,” Connor said, his mouth tight.
The private room where Alexis and his companions
had taken Jon Moor was near the back of the common room, beside the stairs that
led to the upper floors of the inn. Adrian and Connor walked around the
building and into the alley at the back. Cut into the wall at the approximate
height of a man was a glass window meant to air out the room and let some light
in. The window was open, held up by a wooden rod. Adrian and Connor looked up at
it, but neither was tall enough to reach it.
“What--” Adrian began, but Connor turned away
and began to pull some empty crates from across the alley.
They aligned the small crates beneath the
window. Adrian, the lighter of the two, stepped onto the boxes. The crates
began to creak, warning him that they could collapse at any moment.
“Would you hurry up?” Connor hissed. “I don’t
want to be caught sneaking into my own father’s inn.”
Adrian waved at Connor to be quiet, and then
peeked into the dim light of the room. His blood was racing. He fully expected
them to get caught at any moment.. Silently, he gestured Connor onto the crates
beside him. Connor joined him, seemingly ignorant of the creaks and squeaks of
their wooden platforms. Adrian motioned him to silence as they crouched beneath
the window.
Adrian turned to whisper into his cousin’s ear.
“I think this is far enough. We can make out what they are saying.” Connor
nodded absently. From the other side of the wall came the voices.
2
“What is this all about?” Jon asked again. He
sat on one side of a table, while the three men were seated across from him,
watching him closely.
“My name is Hamar Ronan,” said the blunt man
sitting in the middle. “These are my companions, Owain Lannit and Alexis
Marshall. We are here on orders of King Aeiron.”
“King Aeiron?” Jon asked, baffled. “Why?”
“You will learn soon enough ,” said the man with
the flame-orange hair who Hamar had introduced as Owain.
Questions whirled in Jon’s head, but these men
only gave him bits of information at a time, and then watched to see how he
digested those bits. A surging anger began to well inside him. He didn’t want
to be the center of these men’s games. “You are going to have to be clearer. I
still don’t know what this is all about.”
“Very well,” said Hamar. He began to strip his
left glove. “We are men of the Legion --”
“Legionnaires?” asked Jon, bewildered. He
wondered why he should be so surprised; who else would the King send but men of
his Legion. If the King had indeed sent them.
“Yes--”
“Even him?” asked Jon, nodding towards the
youth.
“Even him,” answered Hamar tightly, holding up
the back of his left hand so that Jon could clearly see the mark of the Legion
tattooed there, a maroon eagle in a the middle of a complicated ring of vines.
“As to why we are here; we were sent here to find an Ascillian child.”
A silence filled the room as Hamar’s words
settled. Jon gaped at the three men across from him. His breathing stilled,
though his heart beat faster, and he sat motionless. Darkness crept along the
edges of his vision, and he welcomed the possibility of losing consciousness,
if only to escape this conversation. But the faintness passed and he was forced
to confront the men before him. This had started as good a day as any other,
but he was suddenly certain that it would end being one of the worst of his
life. “There ... there is no Ascillian child here.”
“We believe