certainly didn’t want to spoil the surprises with worry over the Followers in the mysterious village of Paladise. Paladise! What a name.
Mikkai guided him through the castle without a problem. Apparently, the map dragon had seen somewhere the blueprints for many of the greater homes in Amara. The difficulty was finding Namee. They visited all the likely places for the host to be and found plenty of guests but not the wizard. Finally, a servant suggested they look in the kitchens.
Bardon’s boots clattered on the stone steps as he followed Mikkai. As they got closer, he didn’t need his guide. His nose could have led him to the cavernous rooms where chefs congregated with their minions around floured tables, bubbling pots, and red-hot ovens. Happy chatter flowed among the staff. Wizard Namee sat at a pastry table, eating bits and pieces of stolen dough in between slurps of hearty chukkajoop broth from a bowl.
The wizard raised his chalice to Bardon. “Come join me. Are you hungry? Better grab a bite now. Ten o’clock is an absurd hour to begin dinner, but it’s tradition, you know. Tradition. How can we dance the whole night through if we start at a more seemly hour? It’s tradition to dance till dawn. If we start at six, no one can last until the morning star appears. So we have to start at ten.
“My wife says it is because in the old days, before wizards cooled the air in the castle, dancers dropped dead from the heat. Now that would ruin the festivities, wouldn’t it? But I say times have changed. I can cool the air. And she says it’s romantic to start at ten and cool the air anyway. So I come to the kitchen to do a taste test. Wouldn’t want to serve my guests something foul.”
He raised a braised leg of a large heatherhen, laughed, then sank his teeth into the meat. “Besides, I get too busy mixing with the guests to sit down and have a proper meal. And it would seem that my stomach does not like a ten o’clock supper. I’m usually not hungry that time of night.” He took a bite of a roll that the baker had just placed on his plate. “Hot! Ouch! Hot!” He drank and gestured for Bardon to sit with him.
Bardon chose a chair next to his host but waved away a servant’s offer of a plate and bowl. He took the tankard.
Namee arched an eyebrow. “I deduce that you are not hungry.”
“No sir, I’m not.”
“Then it is me you seek out. The culinary arts of my fine staff did not lure you away from our fascinating guests above.”
“Yes, that’s right, sir.”
He sighed, put down his chalice, and pushed his plate aside. “What is it?”
Bardon leaned closer. “Have you heard of a group of people calling themselves Followers?”
Wizard Namee pursed his lips, swirled the liquid in his chalice, then took a drink. “I have.”
The simple answer perplexed Bardon. Wizard Namee sounded cautious, and caution was not one of the wizard’s hallmarks. “What do you think of them?”
“I find them curious.”
“I came across a group of Followers in a village in my district. What can you tell me about those you’ve encountered?”
“They seem harmless. A bit more intense than most folks, but I surmise that it is a pendulum swing. The citizens of Amara acknowledge their mistake in being too apathetic during our former troubles. Now this group has shifted to the other extreme. Time will balance it out.”
“Nonetheless, I feel the need to report my finding to Paladin.”
“He won’t be here tonight.”
“May I use your gateway?”
“Indeed.” He signaled for a servant to come to his side. “Don’t worry overmuch on this, Sir Bardon. This won’t be a popular movement. Their ranks will be slim.”
“Why do you say that, sir? Is there something you know that I can add to my report?”
“Only that these Followers aren’t inclined to enjoy themselves. Odd clothing, dull food, and no entertainment. I also understand that one has to be enlightened in order to be given the privilege of
Mikkai guided him through the castle without a problem. Apparently, the map dragon had seen somewhere the blueprints for many of the greater homes in Amara. The difficulty was finding Namee. They visited all the likely places for the host to be and found plenty of guests but not the wizard. Finally, a servant suggested they look in the kitchens.
Bardon’s boots clattered on the stone steps as he followed Mikkai. As they got closer, he didn’t need his guide. His nose could have led him to the cavernous rooms where chefs congregated with their minions around floured tables, bubbling pots, and red-hot ovens. Happy chatter flowed among the staff. Wizard Namee sat at a pastry table, eating bits and pieces of stolen dough in between slurps of hearty chukkajoop broth from a bowl.
The wizard raised his chalice to Bardon. “Come join me. Are you hungry? Better grab a bite now. Ten o’clock is an absurd hour to begin dinner, but it’s tradition, you know. Tradition. How can we dance the whole night through if we start at a more seemly hour? It’s tradition to dance till dawn. If we start at six, no one can last until the morning star appears. So we have to start at ten.
“My wife says it is because in the old days, before wizards cooled the air in the castle, dancers dropped dead from the heat. Now that would ruin the festivities, wouldn’t it? But I say times have changed. I can cool the air. And she says it’s romantic to start at ten and cool the air anyway. So I come to the kitchen to do a taste test. Wouldn’t want to serve my guests something foul.”
He raised a braised leg of a large heatherhen, laughed, then sank his teeth into the meat. “Besides, I get too busy mixing with the guests to sit down and have a proper meal. And it would seem that my stomach does not like a ten o’clock supper. I’m usually not hungry that time of night.” He took a bite of a roll that the baker had just placed on his plate. “Hot! Ouch! Hot!” He drank and gestured for Bardon to sit with him.
Bardon chose a chair next to his host but waved away a servant’s offer of a plate and bowl. He took the tankard.
Namee arched an eyebrow. “I deduce that you are not hungry.”
“No sir, I’m not.”
“Then it is me you seek out. The culinary arts of my fine staff did not lure you away from our fascinating guests above.”
“Yes, that’s right, sir.”
He sighed, put down his chalice, and pushed his plate aside. “What is it?”
Bardon leaned closer. “Have you heard of a group of people calling themselves Followers?”
Wizard Namee pursed his lips, swirled the liquid in his chalice, then took a drink. “I have.”
The simple answer perplexed Bardon. Wizard Namee sounded cautious, and caution was not one of the wizard’s hallmarks. “What do you think of them?”
“I find them curious.”
“I came across a group of Followers in a village in my district. What can you tell me about those you’ve encountered?”
“They seem harmless. A bit more intense than most folks, but I surmise that it is a pendulum swing. The citizens of Amara acknowledge their mistake in being too apathetic during our former troubles. Now this group has shifted to the other extreme. Time will balance it out.”
“Nonetheless, I feel the need to report my finding to Paladin.”
“He won’t be here tonight.”
“May I use your gateway?”
“Indeed.” He signaled for a servant to come to his side. “Don’t worry overmuch on this, Sir Bardon. This won’t be a popular movement. Their ranks will be slim.”
“Why do you say that, sir? Is there something you know that I can add to my report?”
“Only that these Followers aren’t inclined to enjoy themselves. Odd clothing, dull food, and no entertainment. I also understand that one has to be enlightened in order to be given the privilege of
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