producing offspring. Sounds anomalous to me.”
Bardon rose. “Yes, strange and inconsistent with previous teachings from our scholars.”
A tumanhofer bowed to Wizard Namee.
“This is Namutdonlowmack. He’ll escort you to the gateway chamber. Be back in time for dinner, young man. It will be a feast worth tasting.”
Once in the hallway, Bardon spoke to the servant. “It isn’t necessary to escort me. Mikkai can direct me.”
“Certainly, Sir Bardon, but I wish to speak with you.” The tumanhofer glanced around at the many people wandering and socializing in the halls. “This way, sir.”
Namutdonlowmack darted down a corridor and scuttled up a winding set of stairs leading to the top of one of Namee’s towers.
“Would you mind sending your dragon to make sure no one lurks in the shadows? I do not want what I have to say to be heard.”
Curious, Bardon nodded to the dragon who had perched in a window. With the signal, Mikkai winged off on his mission. As soon as he left, Bardon sized up the tumanhofer and determined from his frown that Namutdonlowmack was not going to spend the time in idle conversation. Bardon sighed, leaned against the window frame, and watched the skies. While they waited, two more large dragons landed in the field.
Mikkai returned. Bardon nodded in response to the minor dragon’s chitter. “He says there is no one in the tower other than ourselves.”
The tumanhofer hesitated.
“I have an urgent message to deliver, and I have little time.”
“I’m aware of the nature of your message, Sir Bardon.”
“You are?”
“Of course.” Namutdonlowmack shuffled his feet. “I wasn’t near enough to listen to your conversation with Wizard Namee until I moved a bit closer. It is important to know what is going on in the castle. I am one of his most trusted servants. If he had not wanted me to hear, he would have said so.”
Bardon nodded. “The kitchen is not the best place for private conversation. But please, I must go.”
“And Wizard Namee’s control of sound included his knowing where sound is traveling, when it bounces off barriers, and in the case of conversation, who can hear.”
“Yes, a very useful talent. The point, Namutdonlowmack.”
“Wizard Namee wishes me to relay information that he did not feel he could speak of in the kitchen. About the people who interest you. Two things. First, there are representatives of the Followers here for the ball.”
“I thought they spurned such activities.”
“These men do not profess outwardly to be of this society. They are here seeking information and to look for potential converts.”
“Converts? What a strange choice of words. How does one convert a person from one doctrine to the same doctrine?”
“You have already begun to suspect that their doctrine is not the same. That is why I chose to speak with you.”
“Go on.”
“So they look for recruits, if the term ‘converts’ does not please you.”
“None of this pleases me. But I feel you have a personal quarrel with the Followers.”
Bardon caught the slight jerk of Namutdonlowmack’s head, and the fierce gleam in the tumanhofer’s eye backed up the intensity of that affirmation.
“My brother’s son, my nephew, thought the words these men spoke appealing. He followed. And got lost. We did not hear from him for six months.”
Bardon waited. The tumanhofer cleared his throat and looked out the window. “He’s dead. We know he’s dead.”
Bardon leaned forward. “But how do you connect his death with the Followers?”
“It’s what we don’t connect. He went with them to one of their villages. Only their villages have no citizens other than o’rants and mariones. He owned a shop in Baranst. Now the shop is owned by another man who bought it from a marione.”
“And his death?”
“We don’t know, but when the family started making inquiries, we met with stony faces and false leads. Then one of them—pretending he wasn’t one of them,
Bardon rose. “Yes, strange and inconsistent with previous teachings from our scholars.”
A tumanhofer bowed to Wizard Namee.
“This is Namutdonlowmack. He’ll escort you to the gateway chamber. Be back in time for dinner, young man. It will be a feast worth tasting.”
Once in the hallway, Bardon spoke to the servant. “It isn’t necessary to escort me. Mikkai can direct me.”
“Certainly, Sir Bardon, but I wish to speak with you.” The tumanhofer glanced around at the many people wandering and socializing in the halls. “This way, sir.”
Namutdonlowmack darted down a corridor and scuttled up a winding set of stairs leading to the top of one of Namee’s towers.
“Would you mind sending your dragon to make sure no one lurks in the shadows? I do not want what I have to say to be heard.”
Curious, Bardon nodded to the dragon who had perched in a window. With the signal, Mikkai winged off on his mission. As soon as he left, Bardon sized up the tumanhofer and determined from his frown that Namutdonlowmack was not going to spend the time in idle conversation. Bardon sighed, leaned against the window frame, and watched the skies. While they waited, two more large dragons landed in the field.
Mikkai returned. Bardon nodded in response to the minor dragon’s chitter. “He says there is no one in the tower other than ourselves.”
The tumanhofer hesitated.
“I have an urgent message to deliver, and I have little time.”
“I’m aware of the nature of your message, Sir Bardon.”
“You are?”
“Of course.” Namutdonlowmack shuffled his feet. “I wasn’t near enough to listen to your conversation with Wizard Namee until I moved a bit closer. It is important to know what is going on in the castle. I am one of his most trusted servants. If he had not wanted me to hear, he would have said so.”
Bardon nodded. “The kitchen is not the best place for private conversation. But please, I must go.”
“And Wizard Namee’s control of sound included his knowing where sound is traveling, when it bounces off barriers, and in the case of conversation, who can hear.”
“Yes, a very useful talent. The point, Namutdonlowmack.”
“Wizard Namee wishes me to relay information that he did not feel he could speak of in the kitchen. About the people who interest you. Two things. First, there are representatives of the Followers here for the ball.”
“I thought they spurned such activities.”
“These men do not profess outwardly to be of this society. They are here seeking information and to look for potential converts.”
“Converts? What a strange choice of words. How does one convert a person from one doctrine to the same doctrine?”
“You have already begun to suspect that their doctrine is not the same. That is why I chose to speak with you.”
“Go on.”
“So they look for recruits, if the term ‘converts’ does not please you.”
“None of this pleases me. But I feel you have a personal quarrel with the Followers.”
Bardon caught the slight jerk of Namutdonlowmack’s head, and the fierce gleam in the tumanhofer’s eye backed up the intensity of that affirmation.
“My brother’s son, my nephew, thought the words these men spoke appealing. He followed. And got lost. We did not hear from him for six months.”
Bardon waited. The tumanhofer cleared his throat and looked out the window. “He’s dead. We know he’s dead.”
Bardon leaned forward. “But how do you connect his death with the Followers?”
“It’s what we don’t connect. He went with them to one of their villages. Only their villages have no citizens other than o’rants and mariones. He owned a shop in Baranst. Now the shop is owned by another man who bought it from a marione.”
“And his death?”
“We don’t know, but when the family started making inquiries, we met with stony faces and false leads. Then one of them—pretending he wasn’t one of them,
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