Yentro?
And so King Cailech, who could tease at a secret as a dog gnawed at a bone, did not kill the Morgravian soldier as his heart wanted to. Instead, driven by instincts he was still unsure about, he had incarcerated him. Had even had near-fatal wounds healed and cared for to preserve the Morgravian’s life, in order that he might prove useful in luring Koreldy back to the Razors and to death.
Cailech had not taken the escape of his prisoners with any grace. If not for the recapture of Gueryn le Gant, he would have had his own men executed for allowing the three Morgravians to slip past their guard. They had had help of course, through Cailech’s own second in command. Lothryn’s deceit was a matter that continued to make the King’s gut twist, for first and foremost they were the closest of comrades. Brothers, no less. It seemed unthinkable—even now—that Lothryn had chosen betrayal and Cailech was uncertain yet whether this was because of the woman he seemed to have developed sympathies for; or because his wife had died birthing the King’s son; or, most likely, Lothryn’s disapproval of Cailech’s recent treatment of captured Morgravians had burgeoned into a far more damaging issue. Whatever it was, it mattered little. Loyalty had been asked, Lothryn had refused to give it, and now he had paid.
Returning his thoughts to the prisoner below him, the King felt sure that Koreldy was not finished with this one yet. He would return to rescue him and then Cailech would deal with them both. He smiled humorlessly at the thought.
His musings were disturbed by movement from Gueryn. A flicker of the prisoner’s eyelids told him that the starving man was aware of the King’s presence. However, he also knew the candle that the jailer had lit threw a deceptively warm pallor over the Morgravian. The chill was biting and the constant
drip, drip
of water in one corner of the cell was enough to drive anyone mad. It had created a mossy slime down one rough wall and the earthy smell from that growing mass did little to mask the stink from Gueryn, who had long ago given up caring for himself or his health. In fact, he had deliberately lain amid his own dirt, hoping infection would find his old arrow wound—a gift from Cailech—and kill him. He was clearly determined to die.
All of this enraged the King, but he held on to his famous temper now as he spoke to his prisoner. “Understand, Le Gant, that I will keep you alive. I must, for you will bring Koreldy back and not only will I have his secret but I will also take his life, which is now forfeit. I know you hear me, soldier.” The man did move now, properly—enough to let Cailech know that he was paying attention.
“Why the silence, Morgravian? I would have thought you’d welcome some company by now.”
“Not with you,” the voice croaked, weak but still tinged with anger.
Cailech nodded, pleased to have the recognition. At least the prisoner had not lost his wits.
“We will make you well, Gueryn. And then you will return here to your dungeon.”
“And I will repeat the process,” Gueryn said defiantly, still not opening his eyes.
“As will I. You might crave death, soldier, but I will not grant it. Get used to the idea and make it better for yourself. Choose to live. Who knows, you might even see Koreldy before you both die at the time of my choosing and manner.”
“You’re so naive, Cailech,” Gueryn chided, weak as he felt. “No wonder Celimus isn’t worried about a threat from the north,” he lied. “He knows you can be provoked into a hasty decision and your kingdom dismantled at the time of his choosing and manner.”
Gueryn knew his words would enrage the man who stood over him and he waited for the kick or punch that would surely come. Instead he heard the King of the Mountains choking back his anger.
“Don’t be so sure, soldier. Your king is the ruin of Morgravia and I will be its ultimate destroyer.”
Gueryn had no time to
And so King Cailech, who could tease at a secret as a dog gnawed at a bone, did not kill the Morgravian soldier as his heart wanted to. Instead, driven by instincts he was still unsure about, he had incarcerated him. Had even had near-fatal wounds healed and cared for to preserve the Morgravian’s life, in order that he might prove useful in luring Koreldy back to the Razors and to death.
Cailech had not taken the escape of his prisoners with any grace. If not for the recapture of Gueryn le Gant, he would have had his own men executed for allowing the three Morgravians to slip past their guard. They had had help of course, through Cailech’s own second in command. Lothryn’s deceit was a matter that continued to make the King’s gut twist, for first and foremost they were the closest of comrades. Brothers, no less. It seemed unthinkable—even now—that Lothryn had chosen betrayal and Cailech was uncertain yet whether this was because of the woman he seemed to have developed sympathies for; or because his wife had died birthing the King’s son; or, most likely, Lothryn’s disapproval of Cailech’s recent treatment of captured Morgravians had burgeoned into a far more damaging issue. Whatever it was, it mattered little. Loyalty had been asked, Lothryn had refused to give it, and now he had paid.
Returning his thoughts to the prisoner below him, the King felt sure that Koreldy was not finished with this one yet. He would return to rescue him and then Cailech would deal with them both. He smiled humorlessly at the thought.
His musings were disturbed by movement from Gueryn. A flicker of the prisoner’s eyelids told him that the starving man was aware of the King’s presence. However, he also knew the candle that the jailer had lit threw a deceptively warm pallor over the Morgravian. The chill was biting and the constant
drip, drip
of water in one corner of the cell was enough to drive anyone mad. It had created a mossy slime down one rough wall and the earthy smell from that growing mass did little to mask the stink from Gueryn, who had long ago given up caring for himself or his health. In fact, he had deliberately lain amid his own dirt, hoping infection would find his old arrow wound—a gift from Cailech—and kill him. He was clearly determined to die.
All of this enraged the King, but he held on to his famous temper now as he spoke to his prisoner. “Understand, Le Gant, that I will keep you alive. I must, for you will bring Koreldy back and not only will I have his secret but I will also take his life, which is now forfeit. I know you hear me, soldier.” The man did move now, properly—enough to let Cailech know that he was paying attention.
“Why the silence, Morgravian? I would have thought you’d welcome some company by now.”
“Not with you,” the voice croaked, weak but still tinged with anger.
Cailech nodded, pleased to have the recognition. At least the prisoner had not lost his wits.
“We will make you well, Gueryn. And then you will return here to your dungeon.”
“And I will repeat the process,” Gueryn said defiantly, still not opening his eyes.
“As will I. You might crave death, soldier, but I will not grant it. Get used to the idea and make it better for yourself. Choose to live. Who knows, you might even see Koreldy before you both die at the time of my choosing and manner.”
“You’re so naive, Cailech,” Gueryn chided, weak as he felt. “No wonder Celimus isn’t worried about a threat from the north,” he lied. “He knows you can be provoked into a hasty decision and your kingdom dismantled at the time of his choosing and manner.”
Gueryn knew his words would enrage the man who stood over him and he waited for the kick or punch that would surely come. Instead he heard the King of the Mountains choking back his anger.
“Don’t be so sure, soldier. Your king is the ruin of Morgravia and I will be its ultimate destroyer.”
Gueryn had no time to
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